Back at School with the Tucker Twins
by Nell Speed · English · Gutenberg #36089 · 321,277 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Back at School with the Tucker Twins
Author: Nell Speed
Illustrator: A. O. Scott
Release date: May 13, 2011 [eBook #36089]
Language: English
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[Illustration: Zebedee lost his balance and shot over our heads into the
soft snow.--_Page 190_]
BACK AT SCHOOL WITH THE TUCKER TWINS
by
NELL SPEED
Author of "The Molly Brown Series," "The Carter
Girls Series," etc.
[Illustration]
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.
Copyright, 1917,
by
Hurst & Company, Inc.
Made in U.S.A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE GET AWAY 5
II. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY 18
III. GRESHAM AGAIN 27
IV. RULES AND RESULTS 41
V. SOME LETTERS 52
VI. THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY 64
VII. WHEN GHOST MEETS GHOST 83
VIII. INCRIMINATING EVIDENCE 97
IX. ECCLESIASTICAL POWER 110
X. VIRGINIA VERSUS CAROLINA 119
XI. THANKSGIVING DINNER 136
XII. THE BALL 148
XIII. NODS AND BECKS 159
XIV. HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS 184
XV. CHRISTMAS GUESTS 199
XVI. CHRISTMAS EVE AT BRACKEN 211
XVII. SANTA CLAUS 220
XVIII. CHRISTMAS FOR SALLY WINN 237
XIX. BACK IN THE TREAD-MILL 255
XX. THE FIRE DRILL 265
XXI. THE REALITY 281
XXII. IN MOTLEY RAIMENT 300
Back at School with the Tucker Twins.
CHAPTER I.
THE GETAWAY.
Could it be possible that only one year had passed since I started to
boarding school? So much had happened in that time, I had met so many
persons, made so many friends, and my horizon had broadened so that it
seemed more like ten years.
There I was once more on the train headed for Richmond, having arisen at
the unearthly hour of five. Dear old Mammy Susan had as usual warmed up
my bath water and prepared a bountiful breakfast. Father had been unable
to accompany me to Richmond to put me on the Gresham train as we had
planned, all because poor Sally Winn had made a desperate effort to
depart this life in the night.
It was all so exactly as it had been the year before, I had to pinch
myself to realize it was not just a dream of what had happened. My new
mail order suit was a little different cut from the last year's, as
Cousin Sue Lee, in planning my wardrobe, insisted upon up-to-date style,
and my suit case did not look so shiny new. That was about the only
difference that I could see. The colt had had a year to settle down in,
but he was quite as lively as ever. My last hug with Mammy Susan was cut
short by his refusing to stand still another minute, and as I piled into
the buggy with Father, the spirited horse whirled us around on one wheel
and we covered the six miles to Milton in such a short time that I had
half an hour to wait for my train.
Sitting in the station at Richmond awaiting the arrival of my dear
Tuckers and Annie Pore, I thought that if the first part of my journey
had been a repetition of last year, now, at least, some variation was in
order. Here I was waiting for friends I had already made, instead of
wondering if I should meet any one on the train going to Gresham.
Annie Pore came first, her boat, from Price's Landing, having arrived
early. Could this be the same Annie? This young lady had a suit on
rather too much like mine for my taste, as I simply hate to look like
everybody else! But a mail order house does not profess to sell only one
of a kind, and I myself had introduced Annie to the mysteries of
ordering by catalogue, so I really had no kick coming; but I couldn't
help wishing that our tastes and pocketbooks had not coincided so
exactly. When I thought of the Annie of last September and the Annie of
this, I hated myself for caring.
My mind still retained the picture of the forlorn little English girl
with her tear-stained face and crumpled hat, her ill-fitting clothes and
bulging telescope. Now she looked like other girls, except that she was
a great deal more beautiful. In place of the battered old telescope, she
carried a brand new suit case; and a neat little hand bag held her
ticket and trunk check, also a reservation in the parlor car. She was
still timid but when she spied me a look of intense joy and relief came
over her face, and in a moment we were locked in each other's arms. How
school girls can hug!
"Oh, Page, I'm glad to see you! I had a terrible feeling I had missed my
train, but of course if you are here, I couldn't have."
"Still the anxious traveler, aren't you, dear? We've at least twenty
minutes."
"Harvie Price was to meet me at the boat landing and bring me up here,
but I was afraid to wait for him. He believes in just catching a train
and it makes me extremely nervous not to be ahead of time. I am afraid
he will think it very rude of me."
"Maybe it will teach him a lesson and he will learn from the early bird
how better to conduct himself," I comforted her. "Now the Tuckers say it
is much better to have a train wait for you than wait for a
train.--Speaking of angels,--here they are!"
In they trooped, Mr. Tucker laden with suit cases and umbrellas, and
Dum carrying gingerly in both hands a box about a foot square which
contained something very precious, it was evident, as she most carefully
deposited it on a bench before she gave me her accustomed bear hug. Dee
had Brindle, her beloved bull dog, in her arms and she dispensed with
the ceremony of putting him down before she embraced Annie and me, so we
both got a good licking in the left ear from that affectionate canine.
"Zebedee is mad with me for bringing him, as it means he will have to
keep him in the newspaper office until luncheon time, but somehow I
could not part with him before it was absolutely necessary. It hurt his
feelings terribly when I went last year and did not let him see me off,"
and Dee wept a little Tucker tear on the wrinkled and rolling neck of
her dog. To one who did not know Brindle, he seemed to be choking with
emotion, but Brindle's make-up was such that every intaken breath was a
sniffle and every outgoing one a snort.
Mr. Tucker's handsome and speaking countenance beamed with delight as
he waited his turn to give Annie and me the warm handshake that was as
much a part of the Tuckers as anything else about that delightful trio.
"What a place this station would be to have the Lobster Quadrille!" he
exclaimed. "I am so glad to see you, little Page, and you, Miss Annie,
that I feel as though I must dance, but that might get us in bad with
that dignified-looking porter over there and so maybe we had better
refrain--Besides, I could not dance on this day when my Tweedles are
leaving me," and instead of dancing as he had threatened, this youngest
of all the Tuckers, in spite of being the parent, began to show decided
signs of shedding tears.
"Now, Zebedee, this is ridiculous! You act worse than you did last
year," admonished Dum.
"Well, it is worse than it was last year," and Zebedee drew his girls to
him while Brindle choked and chortled and tried to lick all three of
them at once. "You see, last year we did not know just how bad it would
be, and this year we know."
"That's so!" tweedled the twins. "If you could only go with us to
Gresham, it wouldn't be so bad."
"If we had just been triplets instead of twins and a father!" said
Zebedee, and then we all of us laughed.
Just then Harvie Price arrived in a state of breathless excitement,
having missed Annie at the pier and, aware of her timidity, fearing
something dire had befallen her.
Harvie had a great tenderness for his one-time playmate and usually
assumed the big brother air with her, but the large box of candy he
produced for the journey, and which he handed to her with very much a
"Sweets to the sweet" expression, was not so very big brotherish to my
way of thinking. Brothers have to be very big brothers indeed and
sisters very little sisters for the former to remember that the latter
might be pleased by some little attention in the way of candy on a trip.
I don't mean to criticise brothers, as I'd rather have one than anything
in all the world. I'd excuse him from all gallant attentions if he
would only just exist.
"If you had not brought Brindle, I believe I would go half way with you
girls, and come back on the train we strike at the Junction," said
Zebedee.
"If you go, I will, too," chimed in Harvie.
"Now, Virginia Tucker! Just see what you have done! You put that dog
before your own flesh and blood!" exclaimed Dum.
"No such thing! He is my own flesh and blood, Caroline Tucker," and Dee
held the ugly bull dog close in her arms.
"Tut! Tut! Don't have a row for Heaven's sake," begged their father.
When Dum and Dee Tucker called one another by their Christian names, no
one knew so well as their devoted parent how close they were to a breach
that could only be healed by _trial de combat_. It was almost as serious
a state of affairs as when they addressed him as Father or Mr. Tucker.
"Do you know, I believe with a little strategy we can take Brindle,
too, and not in the baggage car either. I know how he hates that."
"Oh, Zebedee, how? Dum, I'm sorry I called you Caroline," and Dee gave
her twin an affectionate pat.
"Forget it! Forget it! Besides, I called you Virginia first."
"Well, stop making up now. Sometimes you Tweedles make up with more
racket than you do fighting it out. Now listen! We can dress Brindle up
like a baby if you girls can dive in your grips for suitable
apparel--anything white and fluffy will do. Take off that veil you've
got twisted 'round your neck, Dum, and here is a cap all ready for
baby," and he fashioned a wonderful little Dutch cap out of his large
linen handkerchief and tied it under the unresisting and flabby chin of
Brindle.
We were so convulsed we could hardly contain our merriment, but contain
it we were forced to do, because of the exceedingly dignified and easily
shocked porter who stood at the door of the elevator like a uniformed
bronze statue.
"Gather 'round me, girls," begged Dee, "so we can have a suitable
dressing room for Brindle. He is very modest."
Brindle was so accustomed to being dressed up by Dee, who had played
with him as though he were a doll ever since he had been a tiny soft
puppy, that he submitted with great docility to the role he was forced
to play. We all wanted Zebedee and Harvie to go with us to the Junction
if it could be managed, but the cast-iron rules of the railroads forbade
the carrying of dogs into the coaches. Brindle was there and there was
nothing to do with him but take him, and take him we did. Annie had a
short petticoat made of soft sheer material with lace whipped on the
bottom and little hand tucks and hemstitching. This she took out of her
new suitcase, proud to be the one to have the proper dress for baby. Dee
tied the skirt around Brindle's neck and pulled it down over his passive
legs.
"Yes, my baby has never worn anything but handmade clothes," said Dee
with all the airs of a young mother.
Then Dum's automobile veil, the pride of her heart because of its
wonderful blue colour, covered the sniffling, snuffling nose of our
baby. The transformation was completed just as our train was called, and
with preternaturally solemn countenances we trooped through the gate,
the handmade dress of the baby hanging over Dee's arm in a most
life-like manner.
The man who punched the tickets at the gate looked rather earnestly at
the very young girl with the rather large bunchy baby, and of course
just as Dee passed him, Brindle had to let forth one of his especially
loud snorts. Dee turned pale but Zebedee came to the rescue with:
"My dear, I am afraid poor little Jo Jo has taken an awful cold. I have
some sweet spirits of nitre in my case which I will administer as soon
as we are settled in the Pullman."
Dee looked gratefully at her thoughtful father and whispered:
"Gather around me closely, girls."
We gathered, while Harvie and Zebedee brought up the rear.
We passed the solicitous Pullman porter, who even offered to take the
baby, and we sank finally into our seats in a state of collapse. I had
long ago found out that she who followed the Tuckers, father and
daughters, would get into more or less scrapes; but she would have a
mighty good time doing it and would always get out with no loss of life
or honour.
"Zebedee!" gasped Dee. "Why did you call Brindle, Jo Jo?"
"Why, Jo Jo, the dog-faced boy! He was one of the marvels of my youth.
No side show was complete without him. If the worst comes to the worst
we can be a freak show traveling West, on our way to the fair in
Kalamazoo."
"What will you be?" I laughed.
"Oh, I'll be 'Eat-'em-alive' and Miss Annie will have to be the lion
tamer. They are always beautiful blondes. Dum and Dee of course will be
the Siamese Twins disconnected for the convenience of travel."
"And me--what will I be?"
"Oh, you will have to be the little white rabbit I'm going to eat
alive," and he made a horribly big mouth that I know would have made
poor Jo Jo bark if he could have seen it through his thick blue veil,
but the conductor appeared at this crucial moment and Zebedee had to sit
up and behave.
CHAPTER II.
THE BIRTHDAY PARTY.
"Tickets, please!" this from the Pullman conductor, a tall, soldierly
looking person with a very grim mouth.
He punched all of us in sober silence. Harvie and Zebedee had not had
time to buy Pullman seats, as they had been so taken up with the robing
of Brindle. At the last minute Harvie had rushed to the ticket window
and secured their tickets but they had to pay for their seats on the
train. In making the change the conductor dropped some silver, and in
stooping for it he and Zebedee bumped heads. Then the official was
thrown by a lurching of the train against our precious baby's feet. This
was too much for the patient Brindle and he emitted a low and ominous
growl. The conductor looked much startled. We sat electrified. The ever
tactful Dee arose to the occasion.
"Why, honey, Mother didn't tell you to go like a bow wow. I thought my
precious was asleep." Turning to the mystified conductor she continued,
"He has so many cunning little tricks and we never know when he is going
to get them off. He can go moo like a cow, and mew like a kitty, and can
grunt just like a piggy wiggy," and what should that dog, with human
intelligence, do but give a most astounding lifelike grunt. The
conductor's grim mouth broke into a grin and we went off into such
shouts of laughter that if Brindle had not been a very well-behaved
person he would certainly have barked with us.
Zebedee followed the man to the end of the car and with the aid of one
of his very good and ever ready cigars, and a little extra payment of
fare, persuaded him to let our whole crowd move into the drawing-room,
explaining that we were to lunch on the train. When we were once settled
in the drawing-room with a little table ready for the spread to which
all of us were prepared to contribute (remembering from the year before
the meagre bill of fare the buffet on that train offered), Dum disclosed
the contents of the precious big box which she carried. It was a
wonderful Lady Baltimore cake. A single pink candle was tucked in the
side of the box and this was stuck in the centre of the delectable
confection.
"Whose birthday is it? I didn't know it was anybody's," I said.
"Why, this is the birthday of our friendship, yours and Annie's and the
Tuckers'," tweedled the twins.
"We felt like commemorating it somehow," explained Zebedee. "You see, it
is one of the best things that ever happened to us."
"Me, too!" chimed in Annie and I. And so it was.
When, the year before, Annie and I had been sitting in the station
waiting for the train to Gresham, Annie was as forlorn a specimen of
little English girl as could be found in America, I am sure; and while I
was not forlorn, just because I never am forlorn as my interest in
people is so intense that I am always sure something exciting is going
to happen in a moment, no doubt I looked almost as forlorn as Annie,
alone and friendless. The Tuckers, ever charming and delightful, came
bounding into our presence, and they have been doing it ever since. They
always come with some scheme for fun and frolic and their ever ready wit
and good humour has an effect on all with whom they come in contact.
Annie was certainly made over by a year's friendship with them. Some of
the teachers at Gresham thought I had worked the change in Annie, but I
just know it was the twins.
As for Mr. Tucker--Zebedee--he was next to my father in my regard, and
so different from my father that they could go along abreast without
taking from each other. There was never such a man as Mr. Tucker.
Thirty-seven himself and the father of twins of sixteen, he seemed to
have bathed in the fountain of eternal youth,--and yet I have seen him,
when occasion demanded it, assume the dignity of a George Washington.
Occasion did not demand it at that birthday party and so he "frisked and
he frolicked" very like the little rabs in the Uncle Remus story. One
could never tell where he would be next. I knew a great deal of his glee
was assumed to keep up the spirits of his dear Tweedles as the time for
the arrival at the fateful junction was slowly but surely approaching.
It was very early for luncheon but have it we must before Harvie and
Zebedee left us. Mammy Susan had as usual put up enough food for a
regiment in my lunch box. But enough food for a regiment seems to vanish
before a mere squad if it happens to be as good food as my dear old
Mammy Susan was sure to provide.
What fun we had! The little table groaned with good things to eat. Even
the baby's blue veil was carefully removed and he was allowed a large
slice of Lady Baltimore, which he gobbled up in most unseemly haste. The
little pink candle burned merrily and the toasts were most sincere:
that there would be many, many happy returns of the day, as many, in
fact, as there were to be days. Our friendship, now only a year old, was
to live as long as we did, and we determined then and there to celebrate
every year that we could. September fifteenth was to be a red letter day
with us wherever we might be.
The Junction was imminent and it meant telling good-bye to Zebedee,
Harvie and Brindle. Dum grumbled a little about the loss of her veil but
Brindle had to make his return trip in the same role of baby, and
Annie's petticoat and Dum's veil had to be sacrificed. Zebedee promised
to return them in short order. The pain of parting was much lessened by
the amusement caused by the appearance of man and baby. He held the
infant with great and loving care and Brindle chortled and gurgled with
satisfaction.
The Pullman conductor said nothing as Zebedee disembarked but his eyes
had an unwonted twinkle and his grim mouth was twitching at the corners.
I believe he knew all the time but could not bear to break up our
pleasant party by consigning Brindle to the baggage car. The train
conductor was in a broad grin and the porter looked dazed.
"Is you partin' from yo' baby, lady?" he said to Dee.
"Yes!" wept Dee with real Tucker tears, "he has to go back with his
grandfather."
"Grandpaw? That there ain't no grandpaw, that young gent."
"Yes, he is," sobbed Dee. "He is just as much Jo Jo's grandfather as I
am his mother, and I am certainly all the mother he has, poor lamb," and
the kindly coloured man looked very sorry for the grieving young mother.
"Is you fo'ced by circumstantials over which you ain't got controlment
to abandon yo' offspring?" he questioned.
"Yes," blundered Dee, something rare with her, "I have to go to boarding
school and they don't allow do----babies there."
"Well, well, too bad! Too bad! It pears like a pity you couldn't a got
studyin' off'n yo mind befo' you indulged in matrimonial venturesomes.
When a young lady gits married, she--"
"Oh, I'm not married!" The porter's eyes turned white, he rolled them up
so far. Dee saw her break and hastened to her own rescue. The rest of us
were petrified with suppressed merriment. "That is, I'm not to say much
married; you see, my husband is dead."
"Oh! Sorrow is indeed visited you early. But grieve not. One so young as
you is kin git many husbands, perhaps, befo' the day of recognition
arrives."
We were glad when his duties called him off because the laugh in us was
obliged to come out. Our train backed up to get on the other track and
the last we saw of Zebedee and Harvie they were standing in dejected
attitudes, Zebedee grasping a squirming Brindle firmly in his arms while
Harvie, acting as train-bearer, gracefully held aloft the trailing
petticoat. Brindle had espied through the blue veil a possible canine
acquaintance and was struggling with all his might to get down and make
either a friend or enemy as the case might prove.
Dee simply had to stop crying; in fact, she had stopped long before she
felt that she should. She was forced to squeeze tears out to keep up the
deception she had begun.
"Oh, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive."
"You came mighty near making yourself your own grandmother, you got so
mixed up," laughed Dum. "Brindle is so pedigreed I don't believe he
would thank you for the bar sinister you put on him."
CHAPTER III.
GRESHAM AGAIN.
How strange it was to be back at school and to belong there, greeting
old girls and being greeted as an old girl! We piled into the same bus,
this time not getting separated as we had the first year, and who should
be there saving seats for us but dear old Mary Flannagan, her head
redder than ever and her good, fine face beaming with joy at our
appearance. Our bus filled up with Juniors, all of us happy and gay and
glad to see one another. Miss Sayre, a pupil teacher of last year and a
full teacher for the present, got in with us. She was very popular with
our class and not very much older than we were, so we talked before her
without the least restraint.
"I'm glad to see you, Page," she said, finding a place between Mary and
me that Mary's bunchy skirt had successfully filled before.
"You girls look so well and rosy I know you have had a good summer."
"Splendid!" I exclaimed. "You know Tweedles had a house party down at
Willoughby, and there was a boys' camp near us, and the fun we had with
them! I never had such a good time in my life!"
"Guess who came on the train with me!" broke in Mary. "Shorty Hawkins!
He said----"
"Well, who do you think came down to see us off and brought Annie a big
box of candy and rode as far as the Junction and went back with Zebedee?
Harvie Price, and he said----"
But Dum interrupted Dee to inform the crowd that Stephen White, Wink,
had taken them to the Lyric on his way to the University when he had
come through Richmond. Before she could tell us what he said, which she
was clamoring to do, Annie Pore spoke up to say that Harvie Price was
going to the University to-morrow. What he said about going was cut
short by Mary Flannagan who blurted out:
"Shorty says that he hears that George Massie is so stuck on Annie that
he is getting thin--He has waked up and has fallen off a whole pound."
George Massie's nickname was Sleepy and he weighed about two hundred, so
this set us off into peals of laughter.
"Rags wrote me that Sleepy was drinking no water with his meals and
eating no potatoes, trying to fall off," I ventured when I could get a
word in edgewise. "I can't fancy Sleepy thin, but I think he is just as
sweet as he can be, fat or thin." I caught a very amused look on
Margaret Sayre's face. "What is it?" I asked.
"Oh, nothing! I can't help wondering where the Sophomores go and the
Juniors come from. You are the same girls who a year ago said you would
bite out your tongues before you would spend your time talking about
boys all the time, and since we got in the bus there has not been one
word about anything but boys, boys, boys."
"Oh, Miss Sayre, how silly you must think we are!" I whispered.
"Not a bit of it! I just had to tease you a little. It is a phase girls
usually go through and I knew it would hit you and your friends this
year. If it doesn't hit you too hard it does not hurt you at all, just
so none of you gets beau-crazy."
"Well, I hope to gracious we will have too much sense for that," and I
quietly determined to put a bridle on my tongue when boys were the
subject of conversation. Here I was acting like a crazy Junior, that
from the Sophomore standpoint of the year before I had so heartily
condemned. I remembered the pranks of the class ahead of us and was
amazed when a bus filled with rather sober girls came abreast of us and
I recognized in them last year's Juniors, this year's Seniors. They were
so much quieter and more dignified than the rollicking busload of which
I made one.
"Do you know Miss Peyton is ill and may have to take the whole year to
get well?" asked Miss Sayre.
"Oh, oh! How sorry we are!" came from the whole load of girls.
Miss Peyton, the principal of Gresham, was much beloved by all the
pupils. She was a person of infinite tact and charm and her
understanding of the genus, girl, was little short of uncanny.
"Who on earth is to take her place at Gresham?" I asked. "One of the
teachers?"
"There was no teacher to call on to fill the place, now that Miss Cox is
married, so a principal from North Carolina has been engaged. She is a
B.A., an M.A., a Ph. D., and every other combination of letters in the
alphabet, from big Eastern colleges. I hope we will all pull together as
we have under Miss Peyton's kindly hand. Her name is Miss Plympton. I
have not met her yet," and Margaret Sayre looked very sad. She had been
under Miss Peyton for many years, as a pupil first, then a pupil teacher
and now she had hoped to have her first year of real teaching under the
careful and understanding guidance of her beloved friend.
All of us felt depressed, but it takes nothing short of an overwhelming
calamity to keep down the spirits of girls of sixteen for any length of
time. By the time our straining horses had pulled their load up to the
top of Gresham hill we were bubbling over again, and I must say that now
my attention had been called to it, there were certainly a great many
"he saids" and "I told hims" to be distinguished in the hubbub.
Miss Sayre and I stopped a minute before going into the building to look
at the mountains. They were out in full force to greet us. Sometimes
mountains behave so badly; just when you need them most they disappear
and will not show their countenances for days and days. Gresham was
looking very lovely, and in spite of the little empty feeling I always
had about being away from Father and my beloved home, Bracken, I was
glad to be there. It meant seeing my old friends and, no doubt, making
many more new ones, and making friends was still the uppermost desire of
my heart.
"117 Carter Hall is still ours, so let's go up and shed our wraps and
leave our grips and come down later to see the new principal," and Dum
hooked her arm in one of mine and Dee took possession of my other side.
"Annie and Mary Flannagan are to be right next to us. Isn't that great?
I feel terribly larky, somehow. I reckon it's being a Junior that is
getting in on me," and Dum let out a "Junior! Junior! Rah! Rah! Rah!"
117 was as bare as it had been when first we took possession of it, as
all of our doo-dads had to come down when we left in June. One of the
rules of the institution was that no furnishings could be left from year
to year.
"I wish our trunks would come so we could cover up this bareness. The
nakedness of these walls is positively indecent," sighed Dee. "Wink is
going to send me some pennants from the University. I just adore
pennants."
I could see the finish of our room. Last year there had been very little
wall space showing and this year there was to be none. It was against
the rules to tack things on the wall and everything had to hang from the
picture railing, so the consequence was most of the rooms looked like
some kind of telephone system gone crazy, wires long and short crossing
and recrossing. Sometimes a tiny little kodak picture that some girl
wanted to hang by her dresser would have to suspend from yards of wire.
Sometimes an ingenious one would bunch many small pictures from one wire
and that would remind me of country telephones and a party line where
your bell rang at every one's house and every one's bell rang at yours.
We stopped in 115, where Annie and Mary were to live, and found them
very much pleased with their room, happy to be together and to be next
to us.
"Won't we have larks, though?" exclaimed Mary. "I feel terribly like I'm
going to be one big demerit. I hear the new principal is awfully strict.
A girl who knew a girl whose brother married a girl who went to the
school Miss Plympton used to boss in North Carolina told me she heard
she was a real Tartar. They say she makes you toe the mark."
When I saw Miss Plympton I could well believe the girl that Mary knew,
who knew a girl, whose brother married a girl who knew Miss Plympton,
was quite truthful in her statement that Miss Plympton was something of
a disciplinarian. She was mannish in her attire and quite soldierly in
her bearing. Her tight tailored clothes fitted like the paper on the
wall. She gave one the impression of having been poured into them,
melted first. But above her high linen collar, her chin and neck seemed
to have retained the fluid state that the rest of her must have been
reduced to to get her so smoothly into her clothes. Her neck fell over
her collar in soft folds and her chin--I should say chins--were as
changing in form as a bank of clouds on a summer day. We never could
agree how many she had, and Dum and Dee Tucker actually had to resort to
their boxing gloves, something they seldom did in those days, to settle
the matter. Dee declared she had never been able to count but four but
Dum asserted that she had distinctly seen five, in fact that she usually
had five. Be that as it may, she certainly had more than her share, and
what interested me in her chins was whether or not the changing was
voluntary or involuntary. I never could decide, although I made a close
study of the matter. Her face was intelligent but very stern, and I had
a feeling from the beginning that it was going to be difficult, perhaps
impossible, to make a friend of her.
"She is as hard as a bag of nails!" exclaimed Dee, when we compared
impressions later on.
"I'd just as soon weep on her back as her bosom," wailed Dum. "I don't
believe there is one bit of difference. She's got about as much heart as
Mrs. Shem, Ham, and Japheth in a Noah's ark."
"She almost scared me to death," shivered poor Annie Pore. "Just think
of the contrast between her and Miss Peyton."
"I was real proud of you, the way you spunked up to her, Annie," broke
in Mary Flannagan. "Wasn't she terrifying when she decided I was too
young to be a Junior? I don't know what I should have done if you had
not told her I led my class in at least one subject. I hope it is not
the one she teaches or it will be up to me to hustle."
"Well, girls," I said, "I see breakers ahead for all of us unless we can
find a soft side to Miss Plumpton, I mean Plympton, and keep on it." A
roar from the girls stopped me.
"What a good name for her--Plumpton--" tweedled the twins. "Plumpton!
Plumpton! Rah, rah, rah!"
No great dignity was possible after that. No matter how stiff and
military Miss Plympton could be, and she could out-stiffen a poker, we
knew her name was Plumpton and were ahead of her. I had a feeling during
our whole interview with her that she did not approve of us for some
reason. I don't know what it was. It almost looked as though some one
had got us in bad before we ever met her; but some of the other girls
told me they had the same feeling, so no doubt it was just her
unfortunate manner that made you think she looked upon you as a
suspicious character.
Looking back soberly and sanely on that year at school, I can understand
now that the substitute principal was not quite as impossible as we
thought she was, but the keynote of her character was that she lacked
all sense of humour. A joke book meant no more to her than a grocery
book. She was nothing but a bundle of facts. She thought in dates and
eras (History being her subject) and if you could not begin at the
creation and divide time up into infinitesimal bits and pigeon hole
every incident, you were nothing but a numskull. Any one who had to
learn a verse of poetry to remember the kings of England had softening
of the brain in her eyes. She did not even think it permissible to say:
"Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November."
"Facts are much simpler to master than fancies," she would lecture, and
my private opinion was that she could not learn poetry any more than
some of us could learn dates. The calendar to her was just another month
marked with black figures to be torn off. I usually resorted to some
form of poetry to take the taste of her classes out of my mouth. I
remember once when the lesson had been the making and remaking of the
calendar by the arbitrary parties who took upon themselves that task, I
got so bored and sleepy that all I could do was to keep on saying to
myself:
"January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes, loud and shrill,
To stir the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daisies at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children's hands with posies.
Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn;
Then the harvest home is borne.
Fresh October brings the pheasant;
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast;
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire and Christmas treat."
CHAPTER IV.
RULES AND RESULTS.
The strangest thing about Miss Plympton was that she never was able to
tell the Tucker Twins apart. This was an unforgivable offense in their
eyes and in the eyes of their friends. They were as alike as two peas in
some ways and the antipodes in others. They might mystify you from the
back but once you got a good look in their eyes, the mirrors of their
souls, you were pretty apt to get them straight and keep them straight.
Then their colouring was so different. Dee's hair was black with blue
lights and Dum's was black with red lights; Dee's eyes were grey and
Dum's hazel; Dee had a dimple in her chin, while Dum's chin had an
uncompromising squareness to it that gave you to understand that her
character was quite as fixed as Gibraltar, and she had no more idea of
changing her mind than Miss Plympton had of toying with unalterable
facts, such as 1066 or 1492.
From the very beginning I scented trouble between the new principal and
the Tuckers. Miss Plympton called them Miss Tucker indiscriminately, and
sometimes both of them answered and sometimes neither of them. Either
way irritated Miss Plympton. She seemed to think they should know by
instinct which one she meant. She finally grasped the fact that they had
separate names but was more than apt to call Dee, Virginia, and Dum,
Caroline, which was quite as unpardonable as saying Columbus discovered
America in 1066 would have been to her.
"The very next time she calls me Caroline, I'm going to call her
Plumpton," declared Dum. "I don't mean that Dee ain't as good as I am
and a heap better, but I'm me----"
"Yes, and in the same vernacular Dee's her," I teased. We had a compact
to correct the grammar of our roommates.
"I stand corrected about ain't but I still stick to 'I'm me.' It is more
forceful and means more than 'I'm I.' Of course I'm I, but in Miss
Plumpton's mind there seems to be strong doubt whether I'm me. I is a
kind of ladylike, sissy outside of a person, but me is the inmost,
inward, soul self--I'm me--me--me!"
"Well, you certainly are and there is no one quite like you. I don't see
why Miss Plympton can't see it, too."
"I know why! It's because she doesn't understand people. She thinks of
us as being human beings of the female sex, who weigh a certain amount,
are just so tall and so wide, have lived a certain time and come from
such and such a city. Why, the only difference she sees between you and
Mary Flannagan is that you are in 117 and Mary is in 115, and you have
brown hair and Mary has red, and Mary is better on dates than you are.
The real true Page Allison is a closed book to that fat head. I believe
Miss Peyton knew our souls as well as she did our bodies."
We missed Miss Peyton every hour of the day. Her reign had been wise and
gentle and always just. We never forgot her kindness to us the time Dee
kept the kitten in her room all night. She won us over for life then and
there. Miss Plympton had retained all of Miss Peyton's rules and added
to them. She fenced us around with so many rules that the honour system
was abolished.
Study hall was a very different place from what it had been in Miss
Peyton's time. Then order had ruled because we were on our honour not to
communicate with one another by word or sign. Of course some girls do
not regard honour as a very precious thing and they broke their word,
but most girls, I am glad to say, have as keen a sense of honour as the
best of men. Miss Plympton's attitude toward us was one of doubt and
suspicion and, the honour system being abolished, we naturally felt that
the most serious fault we could commit would be breaking the eleventh
commandment: "Thou shalt not be found out." We developed astonishing
agility in evading the authorities and getting out of scrapes. From
having been five law-abiding citizens, we turned into extremely slick
outlaws. Even Annie Pore would sometimes suggest escapades that no one
would dream could find harbour behind that calm, sweet brow.
The same unrest pervaded the whole school. A day never passed that some
group of girls was not called to the office to have a serious reprimand.
We got so hardened that it meant no more to us than the ordinary routine
of the day, while the year before to be called to the office to have
Miss Peyton censure you about something was a calamity that every one
earnestly prayed to avoid. Miss Peyton never talked to you like a Dutch
Uncle unless you needed it, while Miss Plympton never talked to you any
other way.
"She makes me feel like an inmate of a detention home or some place
where the criminally insane are sent," stormed Dee. "She makes out I
have done things I never even thought of doing and has not got sense
enough to know I never lie."
"What was it this time?" I asked.
"She said I changed the record on the Victrola Sunday night from 'Lead,
Kindly Light,' sung by Louise Homer, to 'A-Roaming in the Gloaming,' by
Harry Lauder. You see all that bunch of preachers was here, and, of
course, only sacred music was permissible under the circumstances."
"Why, I did that!" exclaimed Dum, "and didn't the preachers like it,
though! Well, I reckon it is up to me to go 'fess up."
"Not a bit of it!" declared Dee. "She never asked who did it--that's not
her way. She works with a spy system, so let her work that way. I bet we
can outwit any spy she can get."
It seems strange when I look back on it that this spirit of mischief had
entered into our crowd to such an extent, but we were not the same girls
we had been the year before, all because of this head of the school who
did not understand girls. If she had trusted us, we would have been
trustworthy, I am sure.
There was a printed list of don'ts a yard long tacked up in every
available spot, and I can safely declare that during the year we did
every single thing we were told not to do. If we missed one of them it
was an accident. They were such silly don'ts. "No food must be kept in
the rooms." Now, what school girl is going to keep such a rule as that?
"No talking in the halls or corridors." That would be impossible except
in a deaf and dumb institution. "No washing of clothes of any sort in
the rooms or bath rooms." Then what is the use of having little crepe de
chine handkerchiefs and waists if they must be sent in the laundry and
come back starched and all the nice crinkle ironed out of them? Who
would put her best silk stockings in wash to have them come back minus a
foot? "No ink to be taken to rooms." We would just as soon have written
with pencils except that the rule made us long to break it. Of course,
break it we did. "No talking after lights are out." Now what nonsense
was that? When lights are out is the very time to talk to your roommate.
I verily believe that there was not one single rule on that list that
was necessary. There were lots more of them and all of them equally
silly. The worst one of all was: "Absolutely no visiting in rooms."
That meant no social life at all.
We had looked forward to having Annie and Mary next to us, but if there
was to be no visiting it would not do us much good. Annie thought up a
scheme that surprised and delighted us.
"Let's have telephonic communication. Our closets adjoin."
"Good! So they do," tweedled the Tuckers. "We'll get Zebedee to send us
the things to make it." Of course Zebedee sent them the required things
as he always aided and abetted us in every scheme to have a good time.
He bought one of the toy telephones that has a tiny battery attached and
is really excellent as a house telephone. We installed it quite easily
with the aid of an auger that Zebedee had the forethought to send with
the toy. The things came disguised as shoes. That telephone was a great
source of pleasure to us and at times proved to be a real friend. It was
concealed behind Dum's Sunday dress and it would have been a clever
detective who could have discovered it.
"Let's not tell a soul about it," said Mary, "because you know how
things spread. You know," holding up one finger, "and I know," holding
up another, "and that makes eleven."
We kept our secret faithfully and often mystified the other girls by
communicating things to our neighbours when they knew we had not been to
their room and had not spoken to them in the halls. Of course we did not
have a bell as that would have been a dangerous method of attracting
attention, but three knocks on the wall was a signal that you were
wanted at the phone.
Annie was the originator of another scheme that saved us many a demerit.
Every one of us had a dummy that could be made in a few moments, and
these we always carefully put in our beds when we went off on the
spreads or what not that took us out of our rooms when we were supposed
to be in them.
"How on earth did you ever think of such a thing, Annie?" asked the
admiring Mary.
"I am ashamed to say the Katzenjammer Kids in the comic supplement put
it in my head," blushed Annie. "I know it is not very refined but I
always read it."
It was rather incongruous to think of Annie Pore, the timid, shy, very
ladylike English girl, who a little more than a year ago looked as
though she had not a friend in the world and had never read anything
more recent than Tennyson's "Maud," not only reading the funny paper but
learning mischief from it and imparting the same to the Tucker Twins,
past masters in the art of getting into scrapes. These dummies were
topped by boudoir caps with combings carefully saved and stitched in the
edge of the caps, giving a most life like look when stuffed out with
anything that came to hand. A sofa cushion dressed up in a night gown,
tucked carefully under the cover with the boudoir cap reposing on the
pillow, would fool any teacher who came creeping into our room after
lights out to see if we were in any mischief.
Mary's hair, being that strong healthy kind of red hair, never came out,
so she had no combings, never had had any. We ravelled out Dum's old
red sweater sleeve and made a wonderful wig, some redder than Mary's,
but in the subdued light in which it was to be viewed it did very well.
"Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care," Mary would quote as
she tucked her counterfeit self up in her warm bed preparatory to some
midnight escapade.
CHAPTER V.
SOME LETTERS.
From Virginia Tucker to Mr. Jeffry Tucker.
Gresham, Oct. 15, 19--
Dearest Zebedee:
It gets worse and worse--We've had a whole month
of it now and my demerits are much more numerous
than my merits. I see no way of getting out of the
hole I am in. Everything I do or don't do means
just another black mark for me. Now who can help
sneezing when a sneeze is crying out to be
sneezed? And who can help making a face when a
sneeze is imminent? Not a Tucker! You know
yourself what a terrific noise you make when you
sneeze and how you jump up and crack your heels
together just as you explode. If you were in
church and a sneeze came you could not contain
yourself within yourself without the risk of
breaking yourself up into infinitesimal bits. I
inherit my sneeze as directly from my paternal
parent as I do my chin and my so-called
stubbornness (we call it character, don't we,
Zebedeedlums?). I do think it is hard to be kept
in bounds a week for an inherited weakness--or
shall we say strength? Our Tucker sneeze certainly
should not be put down as a weakness.
Another thing about this new principal is that she
can't tell me from Dee or Dee from me. She seems
to think both of us are me, lately, although at
first she thought both of us were Dee. I kicked
over the first condition, but Heaven knows the
last is much more trying, as I get all of Dee's
demerits; not that Dee does not behave like a
perfect gentleman and insist on her share of blame
and even more than her share. There is no use in
arguing with Miss Plympton. She won't believe you
if you say you didn't do a thing, and she won't
believe you when you say you did. She just sits
there and marks in her book and has the expression
of:
"The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line
Nor all your tears wash out a Word of it."
The other day I sneezed, in fact I out-sneezed all
the dead and gone Tuckers. I couldn't help it. I
don't like to sew on hooks any more than Miss
Plympton herself would and that sneeze popped off
two. She looked up from the chronological page of
dates she had been hammering into us and said
sternly: "Caro-ginia Tucker, that unseemly noise
must stop." "Yessum!" I gasped, holding my nose
about as Dee does Brindle when he tries to get
away from her to eat some little dog up. I held on
with all my might, but every one knows that
sneezes never come singly. The other one is as
sure to come out as murder. When the next one
came, it was worse than the first because of my
efforts to hold it in, just as it makes more noise
to shoot down a well than to shoot up in the air.
(Don't you think my language sounds rather
Homeric? I do.) Well, when the second report
sounded, Miss Plympton put down her pencil and sat
looking at me. She said nothing, but kept on
making chins. As fast as she made one, another one
disappeared, but nothing daunted, she just made
another. I kept thinking: "I wish every time she
made a chin something would go bang! and then
maybe she would sympathize with me. I certainly
can't help making sneezes any more than she can
making chins." What do you think happened at this
psychological moment? Why, Dee sneezed! As a rule,
Dee is not quite so eruptive as you and I are; in
fact, sometimes she irritates me by giving cat
sneezes, but this time, whew! The Great Sneezeeks
himself would have envied her. And do you know
what that old stick-in-the-mud did? She looked
square at me and said: "Viroline, ten demerits, a
page of dictionary and two hymns." That isn't as
bad as it sounds, as I know so many hymns I can
get one up in no time, and I got even with her by
saying the page of the dictionary beginning with
chin. It goes Chin, China, Chinaman, Chincapin,
Chinch, Chinchilla, Chin-cough, Chine, Chinese,
Chink, etc. I took especial pains to accent the
first syllable too. Of course Dee stood up and
clamored to be heard and to claim the sneeze. It
was certainly one to be proud of. Miss Plympton
changed her expression from the Moving Finger to
"That inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die,
Lift not your hands to _It_ for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I."
You know yourself, Zebedee, how hard it is to keep
in the straight and narrow path when you are
blamed whether you are there or not. I feel that I
might as well be "killed for an old sheep as a
lamb," so I do get into lots of scrapes. The
school is not the same with Miss Peyton ill and
Miss Cox married. Dee and Page and I are real blue
sometimes, but not all the time. We do have lots
of fun breaking rules and keeping the eleventh
commandment. Now don't get preachy! You would
stand Miss Plympton just about one minute and then
you would pack your doll rags and go home.
We like the new teacher in English a lot. She is
much more interesting than last year's and seems
to have some outlook. Miss Ball is her name.
Zebedee, since Miss Plympton seems to have such a
feeling against me, don't you think it would be
well for me to stop history and take up china
painting? I don't think much of the art course
here, but it would be real fun to do china
painting and I could paint you a cup and saucer to
drink your coffee out of when we get to
housekeeping. I am crazy to do some modelling and
think another year you better let me go to New
York and study at the art school. Dee and Page
think so, too, and they want to specialize in
something.
We are nearly dead to see you. What say you to
coming up here for Thanksgiving? You would miss
the football game in Richmond, but we are
certainly honing for you, honey. Dee will write
soon. Page is just the same. She cheers us up a
lot. She is awfully game--there is no prank going
that she stays out of, but she kind of holds us
down if our idea of a good time is too wild.
Thanks for the little 'phone. It works splendidly.
Good by,
Your own
DUMDEEDLEDUMS.
From Page Allison to Dr. James Allison.
Gresham,
October 15, 19--
My dearest Father:
We are having the most interesting course in
English and I feel that I am really going to learn
a whole lot about writing. I am glad I have read
all my life, but I find that I have not half taken
in what I have read. Miss Ball is teaching me to
analyze the things I like best. She reads
beautifully and gets meaning out of poetry without
ruining the metre. She doesn't elocute (I hate
that) but she has a full rich voice and her
reading is just like music. She has us write a
daily theme, any kind of snap-shot that suits us
to write about--something we have seen or might
have seen. It is awful funny what different things
we choose. Dum always has descriptions of sunsets
and moonrises and figures against the sky--how
things look, in fact. Dee is great on animal
stories, sick kittens and kindly beasts and abused
horses and lame ducks. Mary usually gets a comic
twist to her stories and has people falling off
ladders and upsetting the ink and sitting down in
the glue, etc. Annie is rather sentimental and
wishy-washy in her compositions, willowy maidens
in the moonlight with garlands of flowers. She is
fond of using such expressions as: "Hark! From out
the stillness," and "A dark and lonesome tarn."
She is rather Laura Jean Libbyish I think. As for
me, I always want to write about people, no
difference what kind of people, old or young,
black or white, rich or poor,--just so they are
people. I made a real good little sketch of
Christmas morning at Bracken. I described our
going out with the colt and leaving Christmas
cheer at the cabins, making an especial feature of
Aunt Keziah, the "Tender." Miss Ball liked that a
lot and wants me to do some more of our
neighbours. I am dying to do Sally Winn, but
somehow I am afraid she might know about it some
day and it would hurt her feelings so. I think her
character would be a very interesting one to write
about. I may use her and put her in such a
different environment that she would not know
herself in broad day-light. Miss Ball is very
complimentary about my efforts and I feel so
encouraged. She is not a bit of a purist and
thinks more of a good thought forcefully put than
of a slip in the way of a split infinitive.
We are having a right strenuous time getting out
of scrapes. I have never been so unruly in my
life, but somehow our new principal makes you want
to break rules. I believe it is because she
doesn't trust girls, and the consequence is we all
of us feel like giving her something to cry about
since she is going to raise a rumpus whether we do
or don't. She is a mighty poor judge of human
nature if she thinks any of our quintette could
lie; but she doesn't believe us on oath. We argue
that if she thinks we do things when we don't, we
might just as well do them, since they are, after
all, not really wicked things. There is nothing
very bad about creeping out of your warm bed at
midnight and flying down a cold hall to a class
room, where you will meet other girls just out of
their warm beds and when there you will, through
smothered giggles, eat burnt fudge made on a fire
surreptitiously kindled behind the barn, when you
were supposed to be piously engaged in darning
stockings in the mending class. I don't know just
what the fun is, but it certainly is fun. The best
fun is scaring the night watchman, who is an
Irishman and horribly superstitious. He is afraid
of ghosts and when he spies a flitting white
figure down the end of a long corridor while he is
making his rounds, he jumps to the conclusion it
is a "hant" and not a naughty pupil. He never
reports it to the principal, but adds it to his
already interminable list of ghost stories. He
makes his rounds as noisily as possible, so if
anything is there it will hear him and depart. He
is a little fat man with a military carriage, just
as pompous in the back as the front. He has been
told he looks like Napoleon, so he always wears
very tight trousers and a long cape which he
throws over one shoulder. One night I peeped out
the window and saw him marching up and down in
front of the building in the bright moonlight. The
heavy cane he always carries he was holding like a
musket and the poor little conceited thing
actually had his hat on sideways, which gave him
very much the look of the Emperor keeping guard
for the sleeping sentry. I gave three taps on the
wall, although it was the middle of the night, and
got Mary Flannagan to the 'phone and told her to
poke her head out of the window and go like a
screech owl. You remember I told you how fine Mary
was as an impersonator. Of course, Mary did as she
was bid and poor Napoleon ran like a rabbit. It
was kind of mean of me, but it was awfully funny.
We are planning a party for Hallowe'en. Tell Mammy
Susan to try to get me a box of goodies here in
time for it. Don't send it to the school, but wait
until I tell you where you can send it. They open
everything and dig out all the contraband, and
since everything is contraband but crackers and
simple candy, they usually dig out everything of
importance.
I miss you and Mammy Susan mighty bad. Please give
the dogs an extra pat for me and tell them not to
forget me.
Your devoted daughter,
PAGE.
CHAPTER VI.
THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY.
"Girls! Miss Plympton has actually given her consent to a Hallowe'en
party in the Gym. We have to start at eight and stop at ten, though,"
called Mary through the concealed 'phone.
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Dee, who had the receiver at her ear, although Dum
and I were both crowding into the closet to get the news that Mary was
giving so loudly that you could really hear it through the walls without
the aid of the toy telephone. "That's no good. Witches don't walk so
early in the night."
"Well, it's better than nothing," answered Mary. "It can be a
masquerade. We are thinking of having a sheet and pillow case party. The
Seniors want all of our quintette to serve on the committee of
entertainment. You see, the Seniors are really getting this up. That's
why old Lady Plumpton will let us do it. She lets the Seniors do lots
of things, but she certainly has got it in for the poor Juniors."
Then there was a confused sound of Annie's trying to talk through the
'phone with Mary, and Dum decided Dee had had a long enough turn. Some
mixup ensued in the two closets with the result that Dum's best dress,
that served as a portiere for the batteries, had to be sent to the
presser, and I got possession of our end of the line and found Annie on
the other.
"Page, Harvie Price writes me from the University that he is going to be
at Hill Top, visiting Shorty Hawkins for a day or so soon, and he wants
to come see me. Do you think Miss Plympton will permit it?"
"Can't you work the cousin racket on her?"
"No, she knows I have no relatives in the States."
"Well, then, he may be allowed to sit in the same church with you if he
should happen to be here over Sunday and his voice can mingle with yours
in praise and thanksgiving," I teased. "You know how Miss Plympton sat
on Jean Rice when her third cousin once removed from Georgia came to
call. She refused positively to let her see him until his kinship was
proved and then she only let him call fifteen minutes. If he had been a
plain third cousin she would have permitted half an hour; second once
removed an hour; plain second two hours; first once removed four hours;
plain first eight hours----"
"Page! This is not a problem in arithmetical progression. Please tell me
how he can manage."
"Bless you if I know--unless he can come to the sheet and pillow case
party. You might let him know one is in prospect." A giggle from Annie
answered me and a shout of joy from Mary as her roommate imparted this
suggestion to her.
"Of course it would never do," Annie said to me later on in the day when
no wall divided us, "but wouldn't it be a joke on Miss Plympton and the
faculty if some of the boys would come?"
"Yes, quite like Tennyson's Princess, but if we got mixed up in it, it
would be a serious misdemeanor." I was willing to go pretty far in fun,
but I had no intention of being imprudent and giving Miss Plympton any
real cause for the suspicion she seemed to entertain for our crowd. "I
tell you, Annie, if I were you I'd go and ask Miss Plympton if Harvie
can call and if she will not consent, just write and tell him so."
Miss Plympton refused to grant permission for the call unless Harvie
could obtain a request from Annie's father, and as that was seemingly
impossible the matter had to be dropped. Annie wrote to the youth and
told him the state of affairs and that was all she had to do with it.
The Gresham girls and the Hill Top boys usually met at football games at
Hill Top, and basketball games at Gresham; they sat across the church
from each other on Sunday and prayer meeting night. As is the way with
boys and girls and has been the way since the world began, I fancy,
there were a few inevitable flirtations going on. Some of them, under
the cloak of great piety, kept up a lively conversation with their eyes
during the longest prayers, or sang hymns at each other with the
greatest fervor. One ingenious boy actually wrote a love letter (at
least that is what we loved to designate it) and sent it to his
inamorata on the collection plate. With meaning glances he placed it on
the plate together with his mite. The deacon, all unconscious of the
important mission with which he was intrusted, proceeded with slow
dignity to pass the plate to pew after pew of boys and then up the aisle
on the girls' side. Every boy and girl in that church knew what was
going on, but there was not a flicker of an eyelash as the exceedingly
pretty and rosy Junior, for whom the note was intended, put out her
daintily gloved hand, dropped in her nickel and quickly closed her
fingers over the billet-doux and slipped it into her muff. There was a
noiseless noise of a sigh, a sigh of extreme relief, that went over all
the expectant pupils, boys and girls. Then with what vim and spirit did
we rise and sing the appointed hymn: "A charge to keep I have"! The old
gentleman who took up the collection was ever after known to us as
"Deacon Cupid."
Hallowe'en arrived. It was a splendid crisp, cold day, which put us in
high spirits. Even Miss Plympton was in a frisky humour and actually
cracked a joke, at least she almost did. She stopped herself in time and
made another chin instead, but by almost cracking it she had shown
herself to be almost human, which was in itself encouraging. Our
quintette was out of bounds. We had worked off all of our demerits and
were in good standing with the faculty.
"Now if we can just stay good a while!" wailed Mary. "I, for one, am
tired of getting into scrapes and mean to be a little tin angel for at
least a week. I wouldn't think of putting a greater task on my
sub-conscious self."
I wasn't so sure of myself, as that minute I had under my mattress a box
from Mammy Susan, filled to the brim with contraband food that would put
me in durance vile for at least a month if I should be caught with the
goods.
The committee on arrangements for the sheet and pillow case party had
determined that ice cream and cake should be the refreshments for the
evening. The ice cream was usually cut in very slim slices and the cake
was served in mere sample sizes, so I thought when the big ball was over
I could gather a few chosen spirits and we could dispose of Mammy
Susan's box in short order. I had not divulged to the others that this
box had arrived, knowing it would be such a delightful surprise for
them.
Mammy Susan had sent it in care of a coloured laundress who did up our
best shirt waists and collars, things we did not dare trust to the
catch-as-catch-can method of the school laundry. Shades of my honourable
ancestors! She had brought the box to the school concealed beneath the
folds of fine linen.
"Ef Miss Perlimpton ketch me she won't 'low me to set foot in this here
place agin, but you young ladies is been so kin' an' ginerous to me that
I's willin' to risk sompen fer yo' pleasure," the old woman had said as
she lifted out the carefully ironed shirt waists and then the large flat
box that had come by parcels post from Bracken. I had warned Mammy Susan
to send things in flat boxes as they were so much easier to conceal
than square ones. This one fitted nicely under my mattress. It gave the
bed a rather hiked up look in the middle, but making beds was not the
long suit of the Greshamites, so I hoped it would pass inspection,
knowing that other beds that were innocent were much lumpier than mine.
If you have never been to a sheet and pillow case party, go your first
chance, and if no one else gets up one, get it up yourself. Drape a
sheet about you in folds as Greek as you can manage, pinning the folds
at the shoulders, and then put on a pillow case like a hood. If the case
is old, cut holes in it for eyes. If you don't possess an old one, make
a cotton mask to tie around your face and pull the hood well over your
forehead. The effect is gruesome, indeed, and that night we looked like
a veritable Ku Klux Klan.
We wanted to mark ourselves in some way so that we could be told by one
another, so we put on each back in black chalk a mystic V, standing for
five, our quintette. Dum and Dee and Annie and I were almost of the same
height. I was a little shorter, but not enough to make much difference,
but Mary was a perfect chunk of a girl and when we got her draped she
looked like a snow ball.
The gymnasium, our ball room, was hung with paper pumpkin lanterns and
papier-mache skulls. "And in those holes where eyes did once inhabit"
there shone forth lights giving a very weird effect indeed. The light
was dim and the ghostly figures moving around would have frightened Mr.
Ryan, the old night watchman, to death, I am sure. But he, good man, did
not have to keep watch until eleven o'clock.
The girls came in singly and in groups, all bent on disguise. Some of
them sat against the wall, afraid that their walks would give them away,
and all were silent for the most part except for a few ghostly groans or
wails. Some one was at the piano playing the "Goblins will git yer ef
yer don't mind out." In a little while couples took the floor and began
whirling around.
"Who is that tall girl dancing with the little chunky one?" whispered
Dee to me. "I thought for a minute the chunky one was Mary, but I see
she has no V on her back."
"I can't think who is that tall here in school. There are two or three
pretty tall Seniors, and then you know there is a new Sophomore from
Texas who is a perfect bean pole, but she doesn't dance."
"Well, this one dances all right and that little square girl she is
dancing with seems lively enough. I believe I'll break in on them. You
take the big one and I'll take the chunky one," and so we did.
Dee started off leading, but I noticed they soon changed, as the short
girl seemed to prefer guiding. I always let any one guide me who will,
so my partner, who was the taller, naturally took the man's part. She
was singularly silent, although I did some occasional whispering in what
I considered a disguised voice. Annie and Dum were dancing together and
I saw Mary's square figure leading out a rather heavy-looking girl who
had up to that time been seated against the wall. As part of the
committee, we considered it our duty to dig up the wall flowers. This
one was not much of a dancer and in a moment my partner and I came a
cropper almost on top of them. We picked ourselves up and Mary,
recognizing me by my V, whispered:
"Page, this girl can't dance a little bit. I tried to lead her and she
has stepped all over me. For the love of Mike, see what you can do with
her." So we changed partners and Mary went gaily off with my very good
partner, who certainly danced better than any one I had before tried at
Gresham, and I tripped off with the heavy-looking cast-off. It wasn't so
bad. I let her guide and while she was not so very good, she was not so
very bad.
"Are you accustomed to guiding?" I said, forgetting and using my natural
voice.
"Ummm um!" came in a kind of grunt from my partner, and then in a high
squeak, "Page!" The music stopped. My partner pressed my hand so
affectionately that I wondered who she could be. I thought I could spot
any of my intimates.
"Now you know me, I think you ought to tell me who you are," I pleaded,
"and not wait for the unmasking."
"Unmasking!" she said in a strangely hoarse tone. "When?"
"Why, at nine! Didn't you hear Miss Plympton this morning at chapel?"
"Oh--Ah--Yes!" she muttered, and drew me to a seat in the corner.
I chatted away gaily. Since my partner had discovered my identity, I
might just as well make myself agreeable and I hoped to discover
hers before nine. I ran over in my mind all the big heavy girls in
school, and even the teachers. Miss Ball was rather large and Miss
Plympton--could it be Miss Plympton? I peered eagerly through the holes
at the eyes gazing into mine. Whose eyes were they? They certainly
looked very familiar. The music started again, one of the new tunes, and
I jumped up to find a partner or even take the one I still had who was
not so terribly bad, but she drew me down again in my seat, hoarsely
whispering:
"Please sit it out with me." I seemed to be in a kind of dream. They say
that one proof of transmigration of the soul is that we sometimes have a
realization of doing the same thing we have done before perhaps aeons and
aeons ago. I certainly held in my consciousness that once before some one
with eyes, brown just like the ones I could see through the slits (cut,
by the way, in a perfectly new pillow case), had begged me in much the
same tone if not so hoarse to "sit it out." I looked at the dancers. Dum
and Dee were dancing together; Mary was tearing around with the little
chunky person, who seemed to be a mate for her. I looked for the other
distinctive black V and saw that Annie was gliding around in the arms of
the tall girl with whom I had danced, who had proven such an excellent
partner.
Annie's cowl had slipped back and above her mask her pretty hair, the
colour of ripe wheat, showed plainly, making no doubt of her identity. I
looked back at the mysterious eyes and an almost uncontrollable desire
to go off into hysterics seized me. I suddenly remembered the hop at
Willoughby and how I had sat out a dance with Wink White the night he
proposed. The mystery was solved.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Stephen White!" I gasped. "I know
you now and I know that that good dancer floating around with Annie Pore
is Harvie Price, and that that little square figure with Mary Flannagan
is no other than Shorty Hawkins. Don't you know that if Miss Plympton
finds out about this that every last one of our crowd will get shipped
without a character to stand on?"
I know Wink wanted to giggle when I talked about a character to stand
on, but he was too much in awe of my anger to giggle or do anything but
plead with me to forgive him.
"You see, dear Page----"
"I am not 'dear Page' and I don't see!" I ejaculated.
"But it was this way. I came over from the University with Harvie Price
to see you, and when I got here, found out the old rules were so strict
and ridiculous that I could not get near you in any other way----"
"Well, getting near me was not necessary," I stormed.
"You had better calm yourself or you will give the whole game away,"
admonished Wink; so I did try to compose myself and speak in a whisper.
"Well, you had better get a move on you and depart as rapidly as
possible."
"Page, please don't be mad with me. I thought it would just be a lark
and you, of all persons, would think it was a good joke," and the eyes
through the holes looked very sad and pleading.
"Well, you don't know me. I like a joke as well as any one in the world,
but to get in a mixup at boarding school because of a lot of boys is not
in my line. It would be harder on Annie Pore than any of us because her
father is so severe. He would never forgive her if she should get in a
real scrape."
"But it isn't your fault. You were none of you aware of our intention of
coming."
"That makes not a whit of difference to Miss Plympton. She never
believes us, no matter what we say. It is twenty-three minutes to nine
and you had better grab Harvie and Shorty and beat it. At nine sharp if
you don't take your mask off some one will pull it off."
"Well, I don't care if they do; I am going to get a dance with the
Tucker twins if I have to be thrown out. Which is Miss Dee?"
As I had a secret desire to turn Stephen White's supposed affection for
me into the proper channel, namely, in the direction of Dee, who was
much more suited to him than I was, I could not resist the temptation of
telling him, although in doing so I certainly placed myself in a
position precarious, to say the least. I was aiding and abetting him in
this attempt to hood-wink the school of Gresham. I was also getting the
twins into the scrape with me by pointing them out to this terrible
person, a male in a girl's school. I did not think of this until I had
told Wink that all of our quintette had big black V's on our backs and
he had made for the twirling twins and broken in on them. He got Dee,
just by luck, and Dum sank on the bench by me.
"Dum, do you know who that is that just got Dee?" I asked.
"No, I have been wondering who she is and who that tall girl is with
Annie Pore."
"Well, get ready to hear something, but don't faint or scream," and I
whispered to her the names of the venturesome boys. She only gasped and
then went off into convulsions of laughter. "It is all very funny," I
continued, "but tell me, what are we going to do if Miss Plympton finds
it out?"
"But she mustn't. We must get them out of here before we unmask. Don't
you think Annie knows by this time that that is Harvie she is dancing
with, and do you think for an instant that Mary and Dee are not on?"
The music stopped just then and our quintette with the partners
collected in our corner. Annie was trembling with fright, but was
evidently having a pretty good time in spite of her fears, and Mary was
in a gale only equalled to Tom Hawkins's.
"Don't stop for adieux," I admonished. "Remember if you are caught all
the blame will fall on us, and while I like all of you well enough, I
have no desire to be expelled for the sake of having danced with you."
This was rather sobering to their gaiety, and after whispered directions
of how best to get out of the building, the three ghostly figures glided
off. I was awfully afraid that some one had overheard, but no one seemed
to be especially interested in us just then and I could but pray that we
had been unobserved.
As Wink had pressed my hand in farewell, he had begged for forgiveness
and had said he intended to see us again by hook or crook. He was to be
at Hill Top until Sunday night.
"It will be in church, then," I had declared, because I was determined
that I was not going to get into any more of a scrape than I was already
in. I was very much relieved that the boys were gone, and my anger
cooled down, although I was certainly disgusted that they had so little
considered us in this mad escapade. I don't see why the pastors and
masters of the young make it such a crime for boys and girls to have a
good time together if they are off at boarding school. How much better
it would have been if Miss Plympton had just invited the boys of Hill
Top to come to the party and let us dance all we wanted to. There is
certainly no harm in it in the summer, and why should there be harm in
it then?
At nine the masks were off and then we had the slight refreshments (very
slight), followed by rather tame dancing until the ten o'clock gong
warned us that in a few minutes lights would be out.
CHAPTER VII.
WHEN GHOST MEETS GHOST.
"Gee, but I'm hungry!" exclaimed Dum, as we trailed our sheeted forms up
the stairs. "Did you ever see such slim eats in all your life? Why, my
cake was cut so thin and my ice cream was so scant, they could not have
passed muster even at a church fair!"
"Shh! Don't say a word, but I've got a box under my mattress. You let
Annie and Mary know, while I see Jean Rice and Nancy Blair. We'll meet
in the Gym at eleven. I believe we will be safe from old Mr. Ryan. He is
sure to keep away from there as he knows that the skull lanterns are
still up. We had better not try to have the spread in our room as we are
so close to teachers. Tell Mary and Annie to get their dummies ready and
tell Dee to start on ours. I'll be up just as soon as I put Jean and
Nancy on."
Jean Rice and Nancy Blair were two girls we had been seeing a good deal
of. They were full of fun and while they were rather a frivolous pair,
they were nice and good tempered and always ready for a lark. You could
count on them to join in on any hazardous expedition.
When eleven o'clock struck we were ready to repair to the Gym for our
secret repast. We kept on our sheets and masks as part of the fun. We
had made our dummies ready and tucked them in their little downies
before we ventured forth. The corridors were dark and silent. The Gym
was at the far end of the building from us, down two flights of stairs.
We judged it prudent to separate and go one by one a few seconds apart
as, if we should by chance run against any one in authority, it was
easier for one to escape than five. I went first, the box of fried
chicken clasped in my arms: Dum followed me with the beaten biscuit;
then came Mary with ham sandwiches; and Annie close behind her,
carefully hugging the caramel cake, too timid to let the space be too
great between her and her friend. Dee valiantly brought up the rear
with stuffed eggs and pickles.
We found three girls instead of two waiting in the gymnasium. I thought
Jean and Nancy had brought a friend and went up to make her welcome.
They had lighted some of the pumpkin and skull lanterns and were
standing with an air of expectancy.
"Hello, girls!" I whispered, "you beat us to it, didn't you? Which of
you is which?"
"You tell us who you are first," demanded one of the figures, "and then
we will tell you."
"I am Page Allison. I bet you are Nancy Blair."
There was a giggle from the masks. It was another bunch of Juniors on
pleasure bent. They were waiting for five more girls and were going to
have a spread and a ghost dance.
It turned out that what one might call the cream of the Junior class was
gathered there. If we got caught, it meant the whole class in disgrace,
as it would be a well-known fact that the members of the class who were
missing were so only because they were not asked to be present. It gave
us a great feeling of security to be fifteen strong. We were seven and
these eight more girls brought the number of law breakers up to fifteen.
There were only twenty-five Juniors in the school and that left ten
girls who were either too goody-goody to be included or not sufficiently
attractive, which is not in itself a crime but is certainly unfortunate.
The spread was wonderful. The little dabs of ice cream and cake we had
been served at the party had only whetted our appetites and in no way
diminished them. We ate in silence broken by whispers and giggles. We
hoped the teachers and Miss Plympton were safe in their downies and we
trusted in Mr. Ryan's superstitious nature to keep him out of the Gym.
The ghost dance began later and was kept up buoyantly, without music
except a weird rhythmic whistling that the dancers themselves furnished.
This whistling is done by sucking in and never blowing out and the
effect is most uncanny. It is very hard on your wind to whistle this
way, but when your breath gives out, your partner picks up the tune
where you leave off and keeps the ball rolling.
The last candle burned down to its socket and guttered out, and then the
spectres flitted back to their rooms. It was pitch black in the
corridors and Annie was afraid to go alone, so we formed a cordon by
catching hold of hands and crept along, keeping close to the walls. I
was in front and once when we were quite near our rooms I came bang
against a human hand groping along the wall towards me. I stopped dead
still! It was all I could do to keep from squealing right out, but a
sound of scurrying down the hall reassured me. It was just a student as
afraid of being caught as I was.
"Who goes there?" I demanded in stern and grown-up tones.
No answer but more scurrying and in a moment the sound of a door
cautiously closed.
"Some poor girl scared to death," I thought. We found our rooms in the
dark and with the help of an electric search light, the pride of Dee's
heart, we snatched our poor dummies out of their warm beds and were soon
snuggled down in their places.
"How do you reckon it happened there were no lights in the halls?"
whispered Dum.
"Nancy Blair told me she had turned them out on purpose," said Dee. "She
said she knew we would get caught if there was any light."
"Good for Nance!" I murmured, and knew no more until morning. I can't
believe we had done anything so very wrong or we could not have slept so
soundly.
The rising gong found us dead to the world and only the telephone call,
three knocks on the wall, aroused us.
"Trouble ahead!" whispered Mary Flannagan, "there was some one snooping
around last night after we were all in bed."
"Well, we can prove an alibi. Who was it?" I chattered through the
'phone. I had jumped out of bed and was huddled in the closet behind
Dum's dress. The window was still up and the heat turned off.
"You sound scared! Do you think they will catch us?"
"Scared! Not a bit of it! I am just cold. Of course, they won't catch
us,--thanks to having abolished the honour system," and I hung up the
receiver and commenced the Herculean task of getting Tweedles out of
bed.
"Get up!" I urged, pulling the cover off of first one then the other. "I
don't see what you would have done without a roommate. I'd like to know
who would wake you up."
Dee put her head under the pillow like an ostrich trying to evade
pursuit and Dum curled up in a little ball like a big caterpillar when
you tickle him with a piece of grass.
"Girls! Get up! I tell you Mary says there is some mischief brewing. We
had better get up and be down to breakfast in time with smiling morning
faces or Miss Plympton will know who was up late feasting. Me for a cold
bath!"
"Me, too!" tweedled the twins, coming to life very rapidly.
A cold plunge and vigorous rubbing took off all traces of the night's
dissipations, and as a finishing touch we all of us let our hair hang
down our backs in plaits. Since the summer we had with one accord turned
up our hair. We felt that it added dignity to our years; but now was no
time for dignity but for great simplicity and innocence.
As the breakfast gong sounded, I am sure in all Virginia there could not
be found five more demure maidens than tripped punctually into the
dining room. Miss Plympton looked sharply up as we came in, but we felt
we had disarmed her with the very sweet bows we gave her and the gentle
"good mornings."
There was an air of repressed excitement running through the school. We
were dying to ask what it was but felt that silence on our part was the
only course for us to pursue. Certainly there were fifteen very
shiny-eyed Juniors and ten very smug-looking ones. I whispered to Nancy
Blair as I passed her table on the way out:
"What's up?"
"I am not sure, but I do not believe they are on to our frolic."
"There is something else," declared Jean Rice, who sat next to her chum,
Nancy. "The servants are in a great state of excitement over something.
I have had an oatmeal spoon and a butter knife spilled down my neck
already and I see Miss Plympton's private cream pitcher has found its
way to our table."
"Well, we will find out what is the matter in Chapel," I sighed, as I
hurried up to my room to put it to some kind of rights. I wanted to get
our dummies pulled to pieces, leaving no semblance of human beings. We
had twenty minutes between breakfast and Chapel to make our beds and do
what cleaning to our rooms we considered necessary to pass inspection. I
tell you we cleaned that room with what Mammy Susan called "a lick and a
promise." Our dummies we pulled to pieces and scattered their members
to the four winds, like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, when the
winged monkeys got him. The telephone we concealed even more carefully
than usual, draping a sweater over it and smoothing out Dum's dress so
no suspicious wrinkle remained.
"We weren't in our beds very long, so let's spread 'em," said Dee,
suiting the action to the word and pulling up her sheets in the most
approved unhygienic manner. We swept the dirt under the rugs and with a
few slaps of a dust rag on bureau, chairs and tables, and a careful
lowering of the shade so the light came in sufficiently softened not to
show the dust, we betook ourselves to Chapel as the gong sounded,
quaking inwardly but with that "butter won't melt in my mouth"
expression we considered suitable for the occasion.
Miss Plympton was on the platform waiting for the teachers and pupils to
assemble. She had on a stiff, new, dark gray suit that fitted her like
the paper on the wall and she was making chins so fast there was no
keeping up with them.
"Looks like tin armor and I tell you she is ready for a joust, too!"
exclaimed Dum.
Without any warning at all, Miss Plympton opened the Bible at the tenth
chapter of Nehemiah and began to read:
"'Now those that sealed were Nehemiah, the Tirshatha, the son of
Hachaliah, and Zidkijah, Seraiah, Azariah, Jeremiah, Pashur, Amariah,
Malchijah, Hattush, Shebaniah, Malluch, Harim, Meremoth, Obadiah,
Daniel, Ginnethon, Baruch, Meshullam, Abijah, Mijamin, Maaziah, Bilgai,
Shemaiah: these were the priests.'"
I heard a sharply intaken breath from Dee. I also noticed the shoulders
of a girl a few seats ahead of me shaking ominously.
Miss Plympton proceeded: "'And the Levites: both Jeshua, the son of
Azaniah, Binnui of the sons of Henadad, Kadmiel; And their brethren
Shebaniah, Hodijah, Kelita, Pelaiah, Hanan, Micha, Rehob, Hashabiah,
Zaccur, Sherebiah, Shebaniah, Hodijah, Bani, Beninu,'----"
Other shoulders were shaking and Dee buried her face in her hands. There
was an unmistakable snort from a dignified Senior. One of the tiny
little girls giggled outright and suddenly without any one knowing how
it started, the whole school was in a roar.
Now it is not so difficult to come down on a few offenders, but when a
whole school goes to pieces what is the one in command to do? It wasn't
that there was anything so very humorous in the tenth chapter of
Nehemiah, but the way Miss Plympton read it; the way she rattled off
those impossible names with as much ease as she would have shown in
calling the roll, the way she looked in her tight new suit,--just the
way the whole school felt, anyhow--a kind of tense feeling that
something was going to happen, made our risibles get the better of us.
Everything in the room rocked with laughter except Miss Plympton. She
just made chins.
The teachers on the platform were as bad as the students. Miss Ball was
completely overcome and the very dried-up instructor in mathematics had
to be led off the platform in the last stages of hysterics. Margaret
Sayre told me afterwards that she was very glad to do the leading as she
herself was at the bursting point.
Miss Plympton looked at the giggling and roaring mass of girls and
quietly went on reading in her hard even tones, her voice slightly
raised, however: "'The chief of the people: Parosh, Pahath-moab, Elam,
Zatthu, Bani, Bunni; Azgad, Bebai, Adonijah, Bigvai, Adin, Ater'----"
The laughter of some of the girls changed to weeping and about half the
school had hysterics. Miss Plympton did not understand girls at all, but
she understood them well enough to know that when once hysterics gets
started in a crowd of girls there is no more stopping it than a stampede
of wild cattle.
I hate sacrilege, but for the life of me I can't see why any one should
think that any human being could get any good or spiritual strength for
the day from listening to the tenth chapter of Nehemiah. I never heard
of a school breaking out into hysterics over the twenty-third Psalm or
the Sermon on the Mount. Why should not a suitable thing be chosen to
read to young people?
Miss Plympton was furious, but whatever she said to the pupils, she
would have to say to the teachers, so she held her peace and after
making some hundred or so chins she had prayers and then a mild hymn.
The storm had subsided except for an occasional sniff. Some of the most
hysterically inclined had been forced to leave the assembly room and
these came sneaking back during the singing of the hymn. The Math
teacher had to go to bed and we all with one accord blessed Sheribiah,
Shebiniah, Hodijah, Bani, and Beninu.
CHAPTER VIII.
INCRIMINATING EVIDENCE.
"Keep your seats, young--ladies, I suppose I must call you. I have
something to say to you." We thought it was coming and were glad to have
it over with. "Something has occurred, very grave in its nature."
"Pshaw!" I thought. "Having a feast in the Gym is not so terribly
grave." I had for the moment forgot entirely about the boys' escapade.
"Last night, Mr. Ryan, our night watchman, who faithfully keeps watch
over the building while you are sleeping, was coming to his duties from
the village where he lives when he was startled by an apparition. Three
figures, garbed in white, came suddenly upon him out of the darkness.
This was just outside the school grounds and about five minutes after
nine o'clock--immediately after your unmasking, I take it. Mr. Ryan was
very startled, so much so that he turned and ran all the way back to the
village and he declares that these figures ran after him. He says that
he was able to note that two of them were tall and one quite short. The
poor old man is very superstitious and thinks they were ghosts, but we
are too enlightened to believe such a thing. In fact, we have reason to
believe we know the girls who perpetrated what, no doubt, they consider
a joke, but to our minds it is nothing more than a cruel prank that none
but unlady-like, ill-bred hoydens could be capable of." Here she paused
and grasping firmly the last few superfluous chins that had formed above
her collar, she resolutely pushed them back and resumed her discourse.
"I need hardly say on whom my suspicions have fallen--the fact of its
having been two tall figures and one short one can mean only Mary
Flannagan and the Tucker twins."
We sat electrified! Why Mary and the Tuckers any more than any other
three girls in the school? Mary was certainly not the shortest girl in
the school and the Tuckers were certainly not the tallest. It was so
silly that I would have laughed aloud if I had not been too indignant.
Tweedles sat up very straight and sniffed the air like war horses ready
for battle, while Mary Flannagan looked for all the world like a little
Boston bull dog straining at his leash to get at the throat of some
antagonist.
Now at this juncture a remarkable thing occurred when we consider Annie
Pore's timidity. She stood up and with that clear wonderful voice,
musical whether in speaking or singing, said:
"Miss Plympton, I am exactly the height of the Tuckers and Mary
Flannagan is my intimate friend and roommate! I insist upon being held
in exactly the same ridiculous suspicion that you have placed my three
friends."
"I am a little shorter but will walk on my tip toes the rest of my life
if it is necessary to prove that I was with the Tuckers and Mary
Flannagan from the time of unmasking last night until we went to our
room at ten!" I blurted out, springing to my feet.
I was very angry with the boys for getting us into this scrape, but
since we were there, I was determined to stay with my friends. Of course
it was Harvie and Wink and Shorty who had met old Mr. Ryan. They had
left the building just before nine, and he, poor old thing, being of a
naturally superstitious turn of mind had come to the school earlier than
usual, as he knew it was Hallowe'en and feared something might catch
him. The boys saw he was scared and, boy-like, had given chase.
"What have you to say for yourself, Miss Flannagan?" said Miss Plympton,
ignoring Annie and me as though we had never existed.
"Nothing but this: 'I deny the allegation and defy the alligator,'" said
Mary, quoting Mrs. Malaprop with as much composure as she could muster.
"And you, Miss Caro--ginia Tucker?" she demanded, looking first at Dum
and then at Dee and finally striking a medium course and looking between
them.
"I--" tweedled the twins and then both stopped. "I--" still tweedling.
"One at a time!" snapped our principal.
"I don't know what you accuse us of exactly," said Dum, taking the lead.
"If you accuse me of being the same height as my twin and of being much
with her, I plead guilty. If you accuse us both of being much taller
than our esteemed contemporary, Mary Flannagan, we both will plead
guilty. As for running out in the night and scaring poor old Mr. Ryan to
death,--why, that is absurd. We can prove as many alibis as necessary.
Remember, though, we are merely twins and not triplets, nor yet
quartettes. One alibi apiece is all we mean to furnish."
"And I," said Dee, as Dum paused for breath, "I! I don't mean for one
instant to furnish an alibi or anything else. I was not out of the Gym
after we unmasked at nine until ten when we went to our rooms. I am
accustomed to having my word believed and I do not intend to prove
anything one way or the other. A criminal is innocent until he is proven
guilty, anyhow, and I will leave the matter entirely in your hands." Dee
sat down with a crash and opened a book. Miss Plympton looked somewhat
taken aback, but she continued in her hard and even tones:
"Do you mean to tell me then, Miss Vir--oline Tucker,--I mean the one
who has just sat down,--do you mean to tell me you have no idea who the
masked figures were who ran after Mr. Ryan?"
"No, I did not mean to tell you that," said Dee, shutting her book very
deliberately and rising again. "You did not ask me that question. But
since you intimate that you did, rather than befoul my mouth with even
the semblance of a lie, I will tell you that I have a very strong idea
who the masked figures were, but that I have not the slightest idea of
informing you or any one else on whom my suspicions rest."
As Dee bumped down into her seat there was a murmur of admiration and
wonder from the assembled school. Even Annie's bravery sank into
insignificance by the side of this daring deed of Dee's.
The Juniors who had been implicated in the feast of the night before
were greatly astonished and somewhat relieved at the turn of affairs.
They had felt that something was in the wind and certainly thought it
was their feast at midnight. It seems that old Mr. Ryan had run all the
way home and when he reached there was so out of breath that it took him
many minutes to tell his wife what was the matter. He had refused to go
to the school to keep watch on such a night, when graves give up their
dead. The wife had come in the early morning to resign for her timid
spouse. The tale had grown greatly in the telling and now the negro
servants had it that sparks of fire flew from the eyes of the ghostly
trio. No doubt that was Wink's cigarette, for he had threatened to light
it before he was well out of the building.
No wonder we had been able to pull off our midnight party without
detection since the school had been minus a night watchman! We were all
of us glad we were in trouble over something we had not done instead of
something we had done.
When Dee sat down with such a vicious bump, we wondered what next, but
Miss Plympton soon put our minds at rest. She made about half a dozen
new chins and then spoke, her voice not quite so even as before.
"It is not my intention to bandy words with mere school girls, but I
feel that in justice to myself, I must say that it is not merely the
fact of the contrasting heights of these malefactors, but it is also
evidence of a very convincing character that has been brought to light."
We were all ears, waiting for the disclosure. "It is a well-known fact
that the Misses Tucker use large handkerchiefs, gentlemen's
handkerchiefs. This has been brought to my attention through mistakes
that have occurred in the laundry,--ahem--using a similar kind
myself,--" Here a smile went over the listening school. "This morning a
handkerchief was picked up on exactly the spot where Mr. Ryan began his
race with the supposed ghosts." Exhibit No. 1 was then produced and held
up for inspection. It was a large and very shady-looking handkerchief
with a great red T in the corner. We knew it in a moment for the
property of Thomas Hawkins (alias Shorty). "See the initial!" pointing
to the red T.
We had joked Shorty the summer before about his very large and gaudy
handkerchiefs. He had a varied assortment of H's and T's in all colours
of the rainbow. Now Dum arose in her might. Her attitude was dignified
and quiet and she held up her hand for permission to speak.
"What is it, Caro--ginia?"
"I wish to say, Miss Plympton, that up to this juncture I have felt that
you have been making a mistake, the kind any one might make in a case of
mistaken identity, that you have jumped to a conclusion, feeling as you
do that my sister and I and our friends are rather wild,--but now let me
say, Miss Plympton, that you have overstepped the possibility of being
merely mistaken and I consider your remarks and accusations nothing
short of insulting. It is bad enough to think we would go out in the
night and deliberately scare a poor superstitious old man, but to
think," and here Dum's voice took on that oratorical ring that I have
heard Zebedee's take when he was very much in earnest about proving a
point, "to think that my sister and I would own such a terribly
inartistic looking handkerchief as the one you are holding, a great
thick, cotton rag with a red initial on it,--and furthermore openly to
accuse either one of us of carrying about our persons anything so
filthy, so unspeakably dirty,--I wonder you can touch it!" This she said
with such a vigorous intonation that Miss Plympton actually dropped the
despised handkerchief. "And now, Miss Plympton, my sister and I will
with your permission withdraw and will await an apology from you in our
room, 117 Carter Hall."
Before the amazed eyes of Miss Plympton and the whole school, those
intrepid twins actually got up and with the greatest composure marched
out of the assembly hall.
Instead of having to prove their innocence, they had completely turned
the tables on Miss Plympton and were demanding an apology from her about
something that was entirely foreign to the matter in hand.
Miss Plympton made some more chins and then quite like a good sport
accepted her defeat and dismissed us to our classes, and as far as I
know, to this day Mr. Ryan does not know what came so near getting him.
He was persuaded to resume his duties, however.
We nearly died laughing at Mary Flannagan, who got quite huffy at Dum
for being so scornful of Shorty's cotton handkerchief.
"It was a very appropriate, manly handkerchief and I don't think it was
at all nice of Dum Tucker to say such mean things about it," fumed Mary,
refusing to be comforted. "I hate a sissy boy who uses fine
handkerchiefs. The kind Shorty has are good for so many things. He uses
them to dust his shoes with and lots of other things."
"Never mind, Mary, it was a nice handkerchief and if you want it, I'll
go sneak it off the stage where old Miss Plumpton dropped it," I said,
teasing our funny friend. I did get it and had it nicely laundered and
put it on the school Christmas tree for Mary, much to her confusion.
Tweedles told me they had hardly been in their room five minutes when
Miss Ball came to see them as an emissary from Miss Plympton. She
brought Miss Plympton's apology for the slur put upon them in regard to
the handkerchief. It seems that their attitude in that matter had quite
won over that strange woman, as she herself never used anything but the
finest linen handkerchiefs and she quite appreciated their feelings.
"Miss Plympton hopes you will accept her apology," continued Miss Ball;
"she also hopes you will assist her in every way to find out the
offenders so she can bring them to justice."
"Now, Miss Ball, you know us well enough to feel that you are wasting
your breath, don't you?" asked Dee.
"Well, yes, but you must remember I am merely an emissary."
"Well, as man to man, Miss Ball, is it up to us to tell all we suspect
might possibly go on _outside_ of the school grounds?"
"Oh! then it may not have been pupils from our school?"
"Possibly not! But don't quote me. I merely suggest that you suggest,"
and Dee shut up like a clam.
Miss Ball was not at all in love with her job as emissary and had no
idea of trying to force a confession from Tweedles, so she left them no
wiser than she came and the Tuckers resumed their classes as though
nothing had occurred to interrupt the peace of the day.
Miss Plympton seemed to have more respect for our crowd than she had
before that scene in the assembly hall. The biggest thing that came from
that experience, though, was that Dum and Dee Tucker immediately sent to
Richmond for ladies' handkerchiefs.
"We'll save the big ones for blowers but we must have some showers!"
they tweedled.
CHAPTER IX.
ECCLESIASTICAL POWER.
"Girls! Girls! Zebedee has gone and done it!" yelled Dee, bursting in
the door of 117 and waving a lettergram wildly over her head.
"Done what?" I gasped. Dee was so excited that I could not tell whether
she was overcome with joy or grief. I had a terrible feeling way down in
my bed-room slippers that maybe Zebedee had gone and got himself
married.
It was quite early in the morning, at least ten minutes before
breakfast, and we were just getting into our clothes when Dee, the last
one coming from the bath, had run against the maid in the hall, bringing
up this mysterious message from Zebedee.
"Oh, it is just like him!"
"What's just like him?" and Dum snatched the telegram from her sister,
and read: "'By wire-pulling, leg-pulling and visits to the Bishop and
other clergy, have obtained a special dispensation for Tweedles, Page,
Annie and Mary to be in Richmond for Thanksgiving game. Am wiring
spondulix to Miss Plympton. Pack duds and take first train you can
catch. I am treating the crowd. Zebedee.'"
We performed a Lobster Quadrille then and there in honour of Zebedee and
then we gave the mystic rap for Annie and Mary. Of course Annie did not
think she should accept the railroad trip from Zebedee and wondered what
her father would say, but we simply overrode her objections. All the
time we were getting into our clothes as fast as we could, as there was
an ominous sound below of breakfast on the way, and in a moment the gong
boomed forth and we raced down stairs, I still in my bedroom slippers
and Dum with her plait on the inside of her middy, hoping to conceal the
fact that she had not combed her hair, only smoothed it over.
Miss Plympton was not very gracious over our going. It was not usual
for pupils to leave the school on Thanksgiving. That feast comes so
close to Christmas it is quite an interruption to the education of the
young; but what was she to do but comply? A special delivery letter from
the Bishop, a telegram from two preachers and one from the Board of
Directors of Gresham were certainly compelling, and there was nothing
for her to do but consent.
It was Wednesday and the next day was Thanksgiving. It seemed to me as
though that day would never pass. We had to go to classes as usual and
make a show of paying attention and reciting. Our train did not leave
until six in the evening, at least, that was the one Miss Plympton
decided we were to take, although we had hoped against hope that she
would let us get off at noon. She was adamant on that score, however,
and we had to be thankful that she would let us take that instead of
keeping us over until the next morning, which would have meant arising
at dawn and going breakfastless to a six a. m. local.
Miss Plympton had been rather nicer to us since the episode in the last
chapter. She had almost mastered the difference between Dum and Dee, and
about once out of three times called them by their right names. She had
always been rather nicer to me than to my chums and now she was, in a
way, quite pleasant to me. This summons from Mr. Tucker had upset her
recently acquired politeness and all day she found something to pick on
our quintette. She chose as a subject of her history lecture the
pernicious effect of arbitrary ecclesiastical power, which drew from me
an involuntary smile. I thought she was off on a satisfying hobby and
let my thoughts wander to the delights of our proposed trip to Richmond
and a real blood and thunder football match between Carolina and
Virginia. Suddenly I was awakened from my dream of bliss by Miss
Plympton's addressing a remark to me:
"Miss Allison, why were the Estates General convoked but rarely under
Charles VI and VII?"
"Estates General?" I gasped for time. What was the woman talking about
anyhow? I thought she was off on arbitrary ecclesiastical power and here
she was firing Estates General at me and raking up old scandals on
Charles VI and VII. I couldn't answer on the spur of the moment, so I
just giggled.
"Miss Allison, I have been an instructor of history for many years and I
have never yet found a pupil who could giggle her way through it. It is
one subject that requires study."
I took the reprimand like a lamb and tried to concentrate, but Mr.
Tucker's cheerful countenance kept forcing its way in front of Estates
General, and what that history lesson was about I do not know to this
day.
Six o'clock came at last and we piled on the train, the envy of all the
girls at Gresham who had not had somebody pull wires and legs of the
Bishop and other Clergy so they could go spend Thanksgiving in Richmond
and see the famous game.
Our train did not puff into the station at Richmond until way into the
night and we were tired and very hungry. Our food since a one o'clock
dinner had been nothing but stacks of chocolate and crackers and chewing
gum and fruit we had purchased from the train butcher, who passed us
every five minutes of the journey with a fresh supply of tempting wares.
"Hello, girls!" Zebedee embraced all of us with his kind eyes, but
Tweedles with his arms. "Geewhilikins! but I am glad to see you! I was
afraid you were never coming. Train an hour late and I know you are
starving."
"Starving? Starved!" exclaimed Dum.
"Well, I've had some eats sent up to the apartment and maybe you can
make out until morning on what I have there."
We packed ourselves two deep in the faithful Henry. We were tired and
hungry but sleep was a million miles from the thought of any of us. When
we arrived at the Tuckers' apartment and had satisfied the cravings of
our inner men with the very substantial food that our host had provided
for us, we decided that we might as well make a night of it, so we sat
up to the wee small hours regaling the delighted Zebedee with tales of
Gresham and Miss Plympton's chins.
"I declare, you girls tell so many stirring tales of adventure I should
think you would write a book about it. If it were possible for a mere
man to do such a thing, I'd write a book for girls and put all of you in
it."
"Please don't," I begged, "because I am going to do that very thing
myself just as soon as I get through with school. 'Bright, clean,
juvenile fiction,' as the ads say, that's what I mean to make of it."
"Are you going to put me in?" he pleaded.
"Of course! Aren't you in it? How could I make a book of all of us
without you?"
"Well, if I am going to be in the great book of books as a hero of
romance, I think I'd best go to bed and get some beauty sleep so I can
make a good appearance in fiction. I've had a cot put up for myself in
an empty apartment on the floor below so you young ladies can have the
freedom of the flat. I'm going to let you sleep until luncheon. We have
to get an early start for the ball park so we can get a good place.
Speaking of romance,--did I tell you that Miss Mabel Binks is making a
visit with your Cousin Park Garnett, Page?"
"Heavens!" tweedled the twins. "Old Mabel Binks is always around."
"She is looking very handsome, and is quite toned down. She is having a
ripping time in society and Mrs. Garnett is doing a lot for her, dinner
parties, teas and such."
"I bet you have been to them and are being nice to her!" stormed Dum.
"Well, I have been so-so nice to her but not so terribly attentive. She
is not my style exactly." But Dum and Dee would not be satisfied until
Zebedee promised he would not be any nicer to Mabel Binks in the future
than common politeness demanded, and that they were to be the judge of
what common politeness did demand. Zebedee went off laughing to seek his
lowly cot in the vacant apartment and we were soon asleep, but the last
thing Tweedles said was: "Horrid old Mabel Binks!" And certainly the
last thing I thought before slumber held me was the same thing.
CHAPTER X.
VIRGINIA VERSUS CAROLINA.
What a day that Thanksgiving was! Could anything be more fun than to be
sixteen ('most seventeen); to have devoted friends; good health; to be
allowed to sleep until mid-day; to get up to a good breakfast luncheon;
and by one o'clock to be on the streets of Richmond en route for the
great event of the year: the football match between Virginia and
Carolina?
We were in such a gale that Zebedee threatened to lock us up for the
day.
"I am afraid you will disgrace me before night," he declared.
The best thing of all that happened was a sharp ringing of the bell
while we were having the luncheon Zebedee had brought from the cafe and
served in the apartment, and who should come in but Father? Zebedee had
long-distanced him to Bracken and in spite of the sickly condition of
the neighbourhood and Sally Winn's having him up in the night, he had
caught the train to Richmond and was like a boy off on a holiday.
Instead of the snug little Henry Ford that we had expected to go to the
game in, Zebedee had rented for the day a great seven-seated car that
held us all quite comfortably. It was a rusty old thing but was
decorated from end to end with blue and yellow, the University of
Virginia colours. Our host had ready for us a dozen huge yellow
chrysanthemums, two for each girl and one for each man. We looked like a
float in a parade and as we chugged out Monument Avenue, every one
turned to look at the gay car. Everybody had a horn and everybody blew
like Gabriel on the last day.
Of course Zebedee had found out the very best place on the grounds to
park the car and of course he got that place. He was a man of great
resources and always seemed to know exactly where to apply for what he
wanted. For instance, his getting permission for us to leave Gresham
for Thanksgiving holidays was simply unprecedented. As he said, he had
pulled every wire in sight, and where there wasn't a wire, he found a
leg. Anyhow, there we were.
"How on earth did you get such a grand place for the car?" asked Dee. A
policeman seemed to be saving it for us, as the parking privileges were
not very extensive at the ball grounds.
"Oh, newspaper men get there somehow. We have what one might call
'press-tige'."
We were wedged in between two cars, one decorated with the Virginia
colours and one with the Carolina, white and light blue. Both were
filled to overflowing with enthusiastic rooters for their respective
states.
The crowd was immense. I never saw so many people together. All of them
seemed gay and happy, and good nature was the order of the day. There
was much pushing and crowding, but no one seemed to mind in the least.
The grandstand was creaking and groaning with people, and every inch of
space within six feet of the fence that enclosed the gridiron was
packed and jammed with one solid mass of enthusiasm.
Zebedee seemed to know about half of the people who passed us. He had
his hat off more than he had it on and usually called out some greeting
to his acquaintances, who one and all addressed him as: "Jeff."
Father saw many old cronies, schoolmates of by-gone years, members of
his fraternity and learned doctors and surgeons, who, I noticed, greeted
him with great respect and affection. Our car was the center of
attraction seemingly. Young men and old stopped to speak to Father and
Zebedee, were introduced to us and stayed to chat. Our old car gave
several ominous squeaks as the visitors climbed on the steps or perched
on the sides. It took it out in squeaking and did not go to pieces as I
for a moment feared it would, but settled down into submission.
"If there isn't old Judge Grayson!" shouted Dee. "I wish he would look
this way." There he was, our friend of Willoughby Beach. His old pink
face was beaming with enthusiasm as he wedged his way through the crowd.
"Grayson! Grayson! Rah, rah, rah!" and then Zebedee blew such a blast
from his beribboned horn that the crowd trembled and turned as one man,
and Judge Grayson, of course, turning with them, saw us. He waved his
large soft felt hat and in a moment was up in the car greeting us with
his old-fashioned courtesy.
"'Ah! happy years! Once more, who would not be a boy?'" Of course the
dear old man had to greet us with a quotation. "Gad, Tucker, it is good
to see you and your young ladies once more! Are you sure I won't crowd
you, getting up in your car this way?"
"Crowd us, indeed! We've got room for a dozen friends if they were as
welcome as you, eh, girls?" We agreed, but the rented car gave another
groan.
Then the teams came trotting in, twenty-two stalwart giants.
"I can't tell one from the other," I said.
"There's George Massie, there, standing by himself to the left! Sleepy!
Sleepy! Massie! Massie!" yelled Zebedee like a Comanche Indian. We all
took it up until the object of our excitement heard his name above the
roar of the crowd and looked our way. We were not so very far from him
and he saw us and he said afterwards that the sun shone on Annie's hair
so that he just knew who we were.
"Hello, peoples!" Who but Wink White and Harvie Price should come
clambering in our car from the back? Some good-natured passerby had
given them a leg-up over the lowered top. The car gave another moan of
agony. She was built to seat seven not to stand twenty, but stand at
least twenty she had to.
I was still dignified with Wink and Harvie for the position they had put
us in at Gresham, but they were so contrite and so jolly that I had to
cave in and be pleasant. It was too bright a day to have a grouch with
any one, and besides, they had not really got us into trouble after all.
Zebedee thought as I did, that they were certainly selfish and
thoughtless to place us where sure expulsion would have been the
outcome had the authorities discovered that boys had come to the dance,
and we had been in a measure party to the crime.
Harvie and Wink had not heard of how the escapade had turned out, as we
had had no opportunity of informing them. We had been very careful in
speaking of the matter at all and had only divulged our part in the
affair to a chosen few who had sworn never to tell a soul. It was too
good a story to keep indefinitely, however, and now Dum and Dee together
told the whole thing while the teams were trotting around, making
senseless looking passes (senseless to the uninitiated, at least). The
automobile rocked with laughter at their description of Wink's tan
shoes, No. 8, that were much in evidence under the drapery, and Harvie's
falsetto giggle that at one time turned into a baritone guffaw.
"What's the joke? What's the joke?" A strident voice broke into our
gaiety. It could belong to only one person of my acquaintance. Sure
enough, there stood Mabel Binks with all the glory of a grown-up
society beau in her wake and all the manner a month of debutanting could
give her. "Let me introduce Mr. Parker, girls. You just adore girls,
don't you, Mr. Parker?"
Mr. Parker, who was in a measure the Beau Brummel of Richmond, assured
us he did and immediately took stock of our charms, at least that was
his air, as Mabel, with many flourishes, presented us. She was quite
impressive in her manner of introducing Tweedles and Annie Pore, and I
heard her whisper behind her hand that Annie was a "descendant of
nobilities." She almost ignored me altogether, but finally brought me in
as "little Miss Allison from the country," and pretended to have
entirely forgotten Mary's name.
Mr. Parker was a type I had never met before. He was good looking and
clever in a way, always knowing the latest joke and the last bit of
gossip and retailing his knowledge to his greatest advantage, that is,
never getting it off to one person but saving himself for an audience
worthy of his wit. He was older than Zebedee, in his forties I should
say, but his countenance was as rosy as a boy's. Dee declared she knew
for a fact that he had his face massaged every day. His attire was as
carefully thought out as any belle's: socks and tie to match, shoes and
gloves also to match, and scarf pin and jewelled wrist watch in harmony
with his general get-up.
He was a man, I was told, not of the F.F.V.'s, but from his earliest
youth Society with a big S had been his object and he had made good. He
was invited everywhere but went only to those places that he felt would
help him in his great object, that of being Dictator, as it were, to
Society. He controlled the vote as to whether or not a debutante was a
success. If he said she was to be the rage, she was the rage, and if her
charms did not appeal to him, it was a very wonderful thing for her to
get by with them. He was a man of no wealth, having held for many years
the same position in a bank at a comfortable salary. It was no more than
enough to enable him to belong to all clubs, to live in bachelor
apartments, to support thirty pairs of trousers and a suitable number
of coats and various grades of waistcoats, fancy and otherwise, and
shoes and shoe-trees that mighty forests must have been denuded to
obtain.
Mr. Parker had smiled on the effulgent beauty of Mabel Binks, and her
social fortune was made. Any girl with social ambition would rather be
seen at the ball game with Hiram G. Parker than any other man in
Richmond, although he was never known to have seats in the grandstand or
to take a girl in an automobile. The honour of being with him was
sufficient, and the prestige gained by his favour was greater than all
the boxes in the grandstand could give or the delight of riding in a
year-after-next model of the finest car built.
Mr. Parker made no excuses, they say he never did, but just handed his
lady fair up into our car and stepped in after her as though they had
received written invitations. The car was already full to overflowing
and so overflow it did. Father and Wink spilled out and were soon
walking arm-and-arm, evidently striking up quite a friendship. Mabel
made her usual set at Zebedee, who was willy-nilly engrossed by her
favour.
Mr. Parker eyed all of us with the air of an appraiser and Dum said
afterwards she felt as a little puppy in a large litter must feel when
the hard-hearted owner is trying to decide which ones must be drowned.
Before he could decide which ones of us, if any, would make successful
debutantes, the game was in full swing and even Mr. Parker had to let
the social game give way to that of football.
My, how we yelled! We yelled when Virginia came near making a point, and
we yelled when she came near losing one. When we could yell no longer we
blew our horns until throats were rested enough to take up the burden of
yelling once more. Zebedee, standing out on the engine to make room for
his many guests, invited and otherwise, behaved like a windmill in a
cyclone. He waved his arms and legs and shouted encouragement to our
side until they could not have had the heart to be beaten.
Father's behaviour was really not much more dignified than Zebedee's.
Love for his Alma Mater was as strong as ever and he rooted with as much
fervor as any one on the grounds.
Sleepy's playing was wonderful. I could hardly believe he was the same
man we had known at Willoughby. There was nothing sleepy about him now;
on the contrary, he was about as wide awake a young man as one could
find. He seemed to have the faculty of being in many places at one time,
and if he once got the ball in those mighty hands, it took eleven men to
stop him. When he would drop, great would be the fall thereof. Sorry,
indeed, did I feel for the one who was under him when he fell. He must
have weighed a good two hundred pounds and over. He certainly did the
best playing on the Virginia team, so we thought, and when he made a
touch-down that Zebedee said should go down in history, we were very
proud of being friends with the great Massie.
We won! Everybody in our car was wild with delight, but I must say my
pleasure was somewhat dampened when I saw the people in the car next to
us, the one decorated in light blue and white, in such deep dejection. A
middle-aged man was openly weeping and his nice, pleasant-looking wife
was trying to console him and at the same time wiping her own eyes.
Their son was on the Carolina team. It seems strange for non-combatants
to take defeat so much to heart, but it is just this kind of enthusiasm
that makes the annual game between Virginia and Carolina what it is:
something to live for from year to year in the minds of a great many
persons. If Father, with no son to root for, could have tears of joy in
his eyes because Virginia won, why should not the father of the Carolina
player weep copiously when his state lost?
The victorious team were picked up bodaciously by the shouting crowd and
borne on their shoulders to the waiting cars. The great Massie, begrimed
almost beyond recognition, passed us in a broad grin. Zebedee leaped
over the fence and shook the young giant's dirty hand.
"Come to dinner with us! Got a table reserved at the Jefferson! Dinner
at six! Dance after!" Of course Sleepy was pleased to come, having
espied the sun glinting on Annie's hair.
"Of all sights the rarest
And surely the fairest
Was the shine of her yellow hair;
In the sunlight gleaming,
Each gold curl seeming
A thing beyond compare.
Oh, were it the fashion
For love to be passion,
And knights still to joust for the fair,
There'd be tender glances
And couching of lances
At the shine of her golden hair."
I know Sleepy felt like a knight of old, way down in his shy heart, as
he grabbed that football and turned over all his doughty opponents
making for the goal. In his heart he wore Annie's colours and in his
mind he kissed her little hand. Annie had been receiving Harvie's
devotion with much politeness, but now that Sleepy was the hero of the
hour, she turned from her more dapper admirer and waved her hand to the
delighted and blushing George. Girls all love a football player. They
are simply made that way. I think perhaps it is some old medieval
spirit stirring within us, and we, too, fancy ourselves to be the ladyes
faire and idealize the tumbling, rolling, sweating, swearing boys into
our own true knights.
After the Virginia team, borne by in triumph, came the poor Carolina
men. They had put up a splendid fight and there had been moments when
their success seemed possible. They took their defeat like the gentlemen
they were, but I saw their mouths were trembling and one enormous blond
with a shock of hair resembling our big yellow chrysanthemums, had his
great hands up before his mud-caked face and his mighty shoulders were
shaking with sobs, sobs that came from a real broken heart. I hope a hot
bath and a cold shower and a good Thanksgiving dinner helped to mend
that heart, but it was certainly broken for the time being if ever heart
was.
Now we all of us yelled for Carolina, yelled even harder than we had for
our own team, and they gave us a sickly smile of gratitude.
During the game Mr. Parker had been very busy in his polite attentions
to all of us, and from his generally agreeable manner it looked as
though he thought we were all worth saving and none of the litter was to
be drowned. Mabel had renewed her attack on Zebedee and had crawled out
on the engine by him, where she stood clutching his arm for support and
generally behaving as though he were her own private property.
"She makes me sick!" declared Dum. "And Zebedee acting just as though he
liked it!"
"Well, what must he do? Let her fall off?" I asked.
"Yes, let her fall off and stay off!"
All was over at last and the automobiles were busy backing out of their
places. Mr. Parker gathered in the pushing Mabel, who had done
everything in her power to be asked to dinner with us at the Jefferson,
but Zebedee had had so many quiet digs from Tweedles that even had he
considered her an addition to the party, he would have been afraid to
include her.
Our car was the last one out of the grounds because Mabel took so long
to make up her mind to get off the engine and accept an invitation from
some acquaintances who passed and asked her to let them take her home.
"See you to-night!" she called affectionately to Tweedles as she finally
took advantage of the offer.
"Not if we see you first!" they tweedled, in an aside.
CHAPTER XI.
THANKSGIVING DINNER.
"Just an hour for you girls to rest up and beautify yourselves and it
will be time to break our fast at the Jefferson!" exclaimed Mr. Tucker
as we swung up in our rocking old car to the door of the apartment
house. "We will be eleven strong, counting White, Price and Massie. The
Judge is to join us in the lobby of the hotel. I'll see if I can find
some one to make it twelve."
"All right, but not Mabel Binks!" warned Dee.
"Why not? She isn't so bad. I find her quite agreeable," teased Zebedee.
"I think she would be quite an addition to the party--"
"Well, you just get her if you want to, but I'll let you know I will
smear cranberry sauce on her if she sits near me," stormed Dum.
I thought Tweedles made a great mistake in nagging so about Mabel. I had
known very few men in my life, not near as many as the twins, but I had
learned with the few I did know that a bad way to manage them was to let
them know you were trying to. I, myself, felt rather blue about the way
Mabel was monopolizing Zebedee, but I would have bitten out my tongue by
the roots before I would have let him know it. Of course fathers are
different from just friends. I don't know what I should have done if
some flashy, designing person had made a dead set at Father. There
weren't any flashy, designing females in our part of the county, and if
there had been, I fancy they would not have aspired to the quiet, simple
life that being the wife of a country doctor insured. For my part I
should have liked a stepmother since I could not have my own mother. I
often thought how nice it would have been if Father could have had a
sweet wife to be with him while I was off at school. I trusted Father's
good taste and judgment enough to know he would choose the right kind of
woman if he chose at all. He never chose at all, however, although the
many relatives who visited us during the summer made many matches for
him in their minds. I hoped if he did make up his mind to go
"a-courting" that the stepmother would wear my size shoes and gloves,
and maybe her hats would be becoming to me. Even Mammy Susan tried to
play Cupid and get Docallison to marry; but he used to say:
"No, no! Matrimony is too much of a lottery and the chances are against
a man's drawing two prizes in one lifetime."
Tweedles fought the idea of a stepmother with all their might and main.
I think one reason that it was ever uppermost in their minds was that so
many well meaning friends were constantly suggesting to them the
possibility and suitability of Zebedee's taking unto himself another
wife.
"Well, we'll make it hot for her all right, whoever she may be," they
would declare. I never had a doubt that they would, too.
I felt it was really an insult to Mr. Tucker to think he could become
infatuated with such a person as Mabel Binks, but then, on the other
hand, I knew how easy it is to flatter men; and while Zebedee did not
like to be run after, Mabel's evident admiration and appreciation of him
would, as a matter of course, soften his heart.
Mabel was, however, not asked to make the twelfth at that Thanksgiving
feast. Whether it was the dread of the battle royal that Dum was
prepared to fight with cranberry sauce or just simply that Zebedee did
not want her himself I did not know, but I was certainly relieved to
find that our host had decided to leave the seat vacant.
"We can let Mr. Manners sit in it," he said, squaring his chin at Dum.
The Tuckers had played a game, when they were younger, called "Mr.
Manners." That fictitious gentleman was always invited in when any
rudeness was in evidence. Dum certainly had been rude about the
cranberry sauce.
"Yes, do!" snapped Dum, "and let him sit next to you--you started it--"
"All right, honey, we'll put him between us and both of us will try to
learn from him." So peace was restored.
We had entered the Jefferson Hotel while Dum and her father were having
the little sparring match, and as we came into the enclosure where the
fountain plays and the baby alligators and turtles splash among the
ferns and the beautiful statue of Thomas Jefferson stands in all its
quiet peace and dignity, it seemed to me that quarreling was entirely
unnecessary and I said as much.
"You are right, Page," said Mr. Tucker. "There is always something
singularly soothing and peaceful about this spot and it seems kind of an
insult to Thomas Jefferson to be anything but well-bred in his
presence."
Our table was laid in the large dining-room and we were hungry enough to
go right in to dinner, but the lobby was so full of excited and
boisterous people rushing back and forth and greeting each other,
hunting lost friends, finding old acquaintances, etc., that we hung over
the balcony looking at the gay throng and forgetting that we were short
one meal for the day, having crowded breakfast and luncheon into one.
"Service is mighty slow on a crowded day like this, so you had better
come eat," and Zebedee led the way to our table, where Stephen White,
Harvie Price and George Massie immediately joined us. We had picked up
Judge Grayson in the lobby.
Of course George, alias Sleepy, was the toast of the occasion, and he
blushed so furiously that he looked as though Dum had carried out her
threat against Mabel and smeared poor, inoffensive and modest Sleepy
with cranberry juice. We asked him so many questions and paid him so
much attention that Zebedee finally interfered and made us let him
alone.
"You won't let the boy eat and I know he is starving," and so he
was,--and so were all of us. We ate right through a long table d'hote
dinner, ordering every thing in sight from blue points to cafe noir.
Wherever there was a choice of dainties we took both, much to the
amusement of the very swell waiter, whose black face shone with delight
in anticipation of the handsome tip he knew by experience was
forthcoming when Jeffry Tucker gave his girls a party.
"Pink ice cream for me!" exclaimed Father, when the question of dessert
arose.
"And me! And me!" from Mary and Annie and me.
"Don't stop with that," begged Dee. "Dum and I always get everything on
the menu for dessert except pumpkin pie. We can't go that."
"Now pumpkin pie is all I want," put in the dear old Judge. "I feel sure
you do not know the delights of pumpkin pie or you would not speak so
slightingly of it. Do you happen to know this piece of poetry?
"'Ah! on Thanksgiving Day
When from East and from West,
From North and from South
Come the pilgrim and guest;
When the care-wearied man
Seeks his mother once more;
And the worn matron smiles
Where the girl smiled before:
What moistens the lip,
And what brightens the eye,
What brings back the past
Like the rich pumpkin pie?'"
"Brava! Brava! Bring me some pumpkin pie along with the pink ice cream,"
cried Father.
"And me!"
"And me!"
"And me!"
The cry echoed from first one and then the other, all down the line. The
waiter came in bearing great stacks of quarters of pies, since every one
of the eleven guests had demanded it.
"Th'ain't no mo'!" he said solemnly, as he put down the last slice in
front of Zebedee. And that sent us off into such a gale of merriment
that all the dining-room turned to see what was the matter. But the
Richmond public seemed to think that what Jeffry Tucker and his twins
did was all right, and if they chose to have a party and laugh so loud
that one could not hear the band play, it was a privilege they were
entitled to and no one must mind.
I know we sat at that table two hours, as the service was slow with so
many guests in the hotel. The food was good and we had plenty of time
and when our ravenous appetites were somewhat appeased by the first
courses, we cared not how long it took. We were having a jolly time
with a congenial crowd, and a table in the big dining-room at the
Jefferson was just as good a place to have it as any.
The ball was not to begin until ten, so when we had devoured the last
crumb of the bountiful repast we adjourned to a motion picture show to
fill in the time.
Wink White seemed rather anxious to have a talk with me, evidently
desirous of making peace in regard to the masquerade on Allhalloween,
but just as he was with some formality offering me his escort to the
movies, Zebedee came up and without further ado or "by your leave,"
tucked my arm in his and led off the procession with me.
"I haven't seen a thing of you, little friend, on this mad trip and I
want to talk to you," and talk to me he did, about everything under the
sun, but principally about whether I thought Gresham was helping
Tweedles and bringing out the best that was in them.
"They seem to me to be slangier than ever," which amused me very much as
Mr. Tucker himself was the slangiest grown-up person I had ever known,
and why he should have expected anything else of his girls I could not
see.
"All of us are slangy, but I can't see that it is taught to us at
Gresham. In fact, I believe that Tweedles introduce all the newest slang
and we sit at their feet to learn. I don't know where they get it, but
every now and then they come out with a choice bit that is immediately
gobbled up and incorporated into our lexicon of slang."
"I'm afraid they get it from me," and Zebedee looked so solemn and sad
that I could not help laughing. I knew they got it from him, and while I
thought Gresham was not the place it had been under Miss Peyton's
management, I did not think it should be blamed for the things that it
was not responsible for.
"Sometimes I think it would have been better for them if I had married
again. Some real good settled stepmother would have taught them how to
behave but, somehow, I have never had a leaning myself towards real good
settled persons who might have been good for Tweedles. When the
possibility of marrying again has ever come into my head, and I must
confess that sometimes it does when I am lonesome, I can only think of
some bright young girl as the one for me, some one near the age of
Tweedles; and then I know that Tweedles would raise Cain. And no matter
how fond they might have been of the girl beforehand, the moment they
should get a suspicion that I am interested in her they would--well,
they might smear her with cranberry sauce."
"But Tweedles never did like Mabel Binks!"
"Of course not! I was not thinking about Mabel Binks," and Zebedee went
off into a roar of laughter. "I just meant that that form of revenge
might be handed out to any luckless lady who met with my approval. I
think Miss Binks could do as much damage with cranberry sauce as the
twins combined. She seems to me a person singularly fitted to look out
for Number One."
"I think she is, but in a battle royal I bet on Tweedles," and so I did.
I was greatly relieved to hear Zebedee say that he was not talking about
Mabel in connection with a nice settled stepmother for his girls, but I
wondered who it could be. Maybe she would be at the ball that night and
I could have an opportunity of judging whether or not she might get on
with my dear friends. I felt sorry for them, terribly sorry, and I felt
sorry for Zebedee's little Virginia, the poor little wife who had lived
such a very short time. How did she feel about having a successor? "How
faithless men are!" I thought, forgetting entirely that I had rather
wanted my own father to marry again.
Anyhow, it was not Mabel Binks!
CHAPTER XII.
THE BALL.
I can't fancy that the time will ever come when I shall be too jaded to
be thrilled at the mere mention of a ball. On that Thanksgiving evening
it seems to me I had every thrill that can come to a girl. I had been to
but few dances--the one at the Country Club the winter before and the
hop at Willoughby were the only real ones, and this grown-up ball with
the lights and music and the handsomely gowned women and dapper men made
me right dizzy with excitement. The twins took a ball as rather a matter
of course, having been dancing around with their young father ever since
they could toddle, but Annie's eyes were sparkling with joy and Mary
Flannagan, who was very bunchy in "starch paper blue" taffeta, the very
stiff kind with many gathers around her waist, was jumping up and down,
keeping time to the music.
Mary, with all her bunchiness, was an excellent dancer and as light on
her feet as a gas balloon, (if a gas balloon could have feet). Sometimes
her voluminous skirts had quite the appearance of a balloon and seemed
to buoy her up. Mary was so frank and honest and gay that every one had
to like her, and, strange to say, boys, who as a rule are quite snobbish
about appearances and insist on a certain amount of beauty or style in
the girls they go with, all liked Mary and she never lacked for a
partner at a dance. She was so amusing and witty that they lost sight of
her freckled face and scrambled red hair. Mary had good hard common
sense, too, and such a level head that we were very apt to ask her
advice on every subject in spite of the fact that she was many months
younger than any of us.
A cross-eyed cow would have had a good time at that Thanksgiving ball.
There were so many stags and all of them seemed so eager to dance that
the girls were really overworked. Wink and Harvie introduced many
University of Virginia men to us and we had the honour of dancing with
every member of the football team who was able to hobble. George Massie,
poor Sleepy, who had been so wide awake on the gridiron and so
unconscious of himself, in the ball room was overcome with shyness. He
was a very good dancer if he did break through a crowd with somewhat the
manner of a centre rush. He danced with Annie Pore wherever he could get
to her and when some eager swain tried to break in he would seize her in
his mighty grasp and bear her away with about the same ease he would a
football. If opponents went down under and before him, why then next
time they would know better than get in his way.
Annie looked very lovely. The faithful white crepe de chine had been
cleaned and was still doing its duty. I heard many persons ask who she
was and especially eager did the public seem to establish her identity
when the great and only Hiram G. Parker singled her out for his
attentions.
"Does she belong in Richmond?"
"She is sure to be a next year's belle with this start she is getting
with Hiram G."
"I can't see what he sees in her. She has no style to speak of and that
dress is plainly last year's model," this from a lady whose daughter was
what put in my mind the remark I just made about cross-eyed cows. You
felt she was led out to dance only because of the superfluity of males.
"Now that Miss Binks from Newport News," continued the mystified lady,
"that girl has some style and you can see why Hiram G. took a fancy to
her. Of course those Binkses are common as pig tracks but the mother is
well connected and they do say that old Binks has made money hand over
fist. Mrs. Garnett met her at Willoughby and asked her up to visit her.
You may be sure she is rich because we know she has no claim to being an
aristocrat. Park Garnett demands either blood or money."
All of this I overheard between dances. I was standing on the edge of
the crowd with Wink White with whom I had been laboriously dancing. I
never could dance with Wink; we never seemed to be able to get in step.
I knew it was his fault and he thought it was mine. He would persist,
however, in asking me to dance. The conversation of the chaperones was
rather embarrassing to both of us as Mabel was Wink's cousin, his family
being the good connection that Mrs. Binks could boast of, and Mrs.
Garnett was my cousin. We were forced, though, to hear more as we were
wedged in near them for a few moments.
"They do say that Jeffry Tucker is paying Miss Binks a lot of attention.
I saw her in his car at the game to-day and my daughter tells me that
the girl is begigged about him. She actually broke a partial engagement
with Hiram G. Parker to go somewhere with Mr. Tucker last week."
"Well, well! She looks fit to cope with those Heavenly Twins!"
"Oh! They aren't so bad now. They do say they are toned down a lot.
School has been good for them."
"They never were to say bad--just wild and harum-scarum. I'd hate to
think Jeffry Tucker would give his girls such a young stepmother. They
need some middle-aged person."
"Yes, but poor Jeffry! Can't you see him tied to some middle-aged
person? He is too young a man to marry for his children's sake."
"Well, he's too old a man to marry a girl right out of school and expect
his daughters to respect her."
I was certainly glad to start dancing again even with the four-footed
Wink. It is a strange thing what makes a good dancer. Some of the most
awkward-looking persons dance beautifully and, vice versa, some very
graceful ones are as stiff as pokers on the ballroom floor. Now Wink was
a very well set up young man, tall, broad shouldered, with an erect
carriage, almost soldierly in his bearing. It is all right to walk like
a soldier but to dance the way a soldier walks is not so exemplary. Wink
always had a kind of "Present arms! March!" manner and a girl does not
like to be held and carried around like a musket.
Dee declared she thought Wink was a good dancer and she could make out
finely with him, and thank goodness, Wink had found this out and broke
in on Dee more than he did on me. I liked to talk to him; he was a very
bright, agreeable young man with original ideas and lots of ambition. If
only his ambition had not directed his attentions to me! I could not get
over a certain embarrassment with him occasioned by the ridiculous
proposal he had made me while we were at Willoughby. He had said to me
then that he did not know how much he loved me until he saw me with my
hair done up like a grown-up, and I had joked and told him that I could
not judge of my feelings for him until he grew a moustache. He had
immediately left off shaving his upper lip and now, to my confusion,
every time I looked at him there bristled a very formidable moustache.
Wink was very good looking, with nice blue eyes and a straight nose. I
don't know why it seemed such a huge jest for him to be trying to make
love to me. Lots of girls my age had devoted lovers, at least according
to their accounts they did. I was almost seventeen and it would be
rather fun, I thought, to encourage him and even have a ring to put very
conspicuously on my left hand on the engagement finger, but when I
thought of his "lollapalussing" ways that night on the piazza at
Willoughby I just knew I could not stand it.
"Lollapalussing" was a Tweedles word and meant sentimental spooning and
a hand-holding tendency. We used that word at Gresham to describe the
girls who have a leaning, clinging-vine way of flopping on you. Our
quintette was very much opposed to lollapalussers, male or female. I
fancy when you are very much in love that lollapalussing is not so bad,
but then I wasn't at all in love, certainly not with Wink.
Father had taken a great fancy to Wink and the attraction seemed mutual.
They talked together a great deal, and even at the ball when the young
man was not dancing with either Dee or me, he would seek out Father, who
was looking on at the dancing with great interest, and the two
evidently found much to converse about.
"Page," said Father, coming up to me as I was standing for a moment with
Mr. Tucker, after a most glorious dance in which not once had we missed
step or bumped into any one, "I have asked Mr. White down to Bracken for
a visit during the Christmas holidays. I want him to see the country,"
putting his hand affectionately on Wink's shoulder. "He is thinking of
settling in the country after he gets his M.D., and has some hospital
practice, and I am looking out for some one to throw my mantle on, as it
were."
"Oh--ye--that would be fine," I stammered, and I hate myself yet for
blushing like a fool rose. Zebedee saw it and he looked so sad, just
exactly as he had the winter before when Mr. Reginald Kent asked Dum for
a lock of her hair. I did wish I could make him understand that it made
not a whip stitch of difference to me where Wink White settled. That I
was nothing but a little girl and did not care a bit for beaux, except,
of course, for dancing partners, and maybe a candy beau or two. Every
girl wants that kind. But as for serious, young, would-be doctors
growing moustaches and coming to settle in our end of the county--it
made me tired. I did not know how to let my kind friend know it did,
though, and as just then the chrysanthemum-headed giant from Carolina,
the one I had seen weeping on the field after the game, came up to claim
a dance, I had to leave. A moment afterwards I had the doubtful pleasure
of seeing Zebedee engaged in the gyrations of some new fangled dance
with the beaming Mabel Binks in his arms.
Mabel was certainly looking handsome. "I'll give it to her," as Mammy
Susan says when she admits something pleasant about any one for whom she
has no regard. She was dressed in a flame-coloured chiffon that set off
her fiery beauty which was accentuated by the many diamonds, rather too
many for a young girl, but I think it is usually the tendency of those
who have no diamonds to wear to think that the ones who do have them
wear too many. Needless to say that I have no diamonds to wear.
"Isn't she the limit?" hissed Dum, as we stopped dancing near each other
and Zebedee and his partner kept on for a moment after the music had
stopped. "I call it lollapalussy to dance after the band quits."
"She is looking mighty handsome, don't you think?"
"Handsome! She looks oochy koochy to me! Too like the Midway to suit my
taste."
Well, we had certainly had a wonderful time and I was not going to let
anything ruin it for me. Stephen White could grow a moustache as big as
a hedge and come and settle all over the county if he wanted to, and Mr.
Jeffry Tucker could dance with a loud-mouthed girl in flame-coloured
chiffon until he scorched himself if he wanted to. I had been to a ball
and been something of a belle and now I was tired and sleepy and wanted
to get to bed and talk over things with the girls,--I did wish though
that I had not blushed like a fool rose just at the wrong time and that
Zebedee had not seen me.
CHAPTER XIII.
NODS AND BECKS.
"'Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek.'"
quoted Mary Flannagan. "There is a name for our magazine, right there in
sober-sided old Milton."
"Why, that's as hackneyed as can be," objected Dum. "It seems to me that
every school magazine I ever read was called 'Quips and Cranks.' Let's
get something real original and different and try to make the mag the
same way."
"Of course I didn't mean 'Quips and Cranks.' I mean 'Nods and Becks.' I
think that would be a bully name."
And so did all of us, and "Nods and Becks" was unanimously elected as
the name for the school paper that we were striving to get out before
Christmas.
I was chosen editor-in-chief, much to my astonishment. It seemed to me
that one of the Tuckers should have had that job, with their father a
real live editor. They must have inherited some of his ability; but the
Lit. Society would have me and I had to turn in and do the best I could.
I didn't mind the writing end of it so much as the part I had in turning
down some of the effusions that were handed in by members of the
society. Our object in the publishing of this magazine was to make it as
light and gay as possible.
We had chosen Christmas as our season for publication and that meant
getting very busy after our Thanksgiving jaunt. We really had intended
to use the little holiday we were to have at that time to get our
magazine in shape. We called it a magazine for dignity, but it was
really more of a newspaper.
I am going to publish the whole thing just to show what girls can do at
school. Every one thought it was very creditable. We had lots of ads
from the tradespeople at Gresham and a few from Richmond firms, enough
to pay for the printing.
CHRISTMAS NUMBER OF
_NODS AND BECKS_.
GRESHAM, VA.
SONNET TO SANTA CLAUS.
BY PAGE ALLISON.
Pan may be dead, but Santa Claus remains,
And once a year he riseth in his might.
Oft have I heard, in silences of night,
Tinkling of bells and clink of reindeer chains
As o'er the roof he sped through his domains,
When youthful eyes had given up the fight
To glimpse for once the rotund, jolly wight,
Who in a trusting world unchallenged reigns.
Last and the greatest of all Gods is he,
Who suffereth little children and is kind;
And when I've rounded out my earthly span
And face at last the Ancient Mystery,
I hope somewhere in Heaven I shall find
Rest on the bosom of that good old man.
BEAUTY HINTS AND ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
BY MARY FLANNAGAN.
Dear Editor:
I have cut two sleeves for the wrong arm in trying
to make my new velour coat out of half a yard less
goods than the pattern called for. I can't match
the goods now. What must I do?
(signed) AGITATED KATE.
Dear Kate:
Put one sleeve in hind part before and then get a
Teddy Bear or a plush monkey matching your coat as
near as possible or in pleasing contrast to it if
you can't get it to match, and tack it under your
arm. It will hide the discrepancy and at the same
time give a chic, stylish punch to your costume.
It would be better to sew it as you would find it
something of a strain on bargain days to have to
hold it and you might forget.
(signed) EDITOR OF BEAUTY HINTS.
Dear Editor:
I am losing my good figure. What can I do to keep
it?
(signed) SYLVIA.
Dear Sylvia:
Pin it on tighter. Try black safety pins, they
seem to be stronger than white.
(signed) EDITOR OF BEAUTY HINTS.
FACTS ABOUT FATIMA.
It is the style to be tall and slender. Assume a virtue if you have it
not and you who are short and fat, don't grow any shorter and fatter.
The following obesity rules will prove very helpful to my correspondent
who signs herself, Miss Rosy Round:
Stand up for twenty minutes after meals (if you must have meals).
Eat no potatoes.
Eat no bread.
Avoid all starchy food.
Avoid meats of all kinds.
Fish is fattening.
Never touch sweets or pastry.
Eat no fruit for fear of uric acid.
Never drink water with your meals, but between meals do nothing but
drink water, all the time that you can spare from the gymnastics that
must be kept up to keep down the disfiguring fat.
Always leave the table hungry, but take a pickle with you, a large dill
pickle is the best for your purpose. Eat a great deal of pickle; it may
ruin your complexion but a good complexion is only skin deep while
fatness goes straight through.
Sleep in your stays if you can, but if you can't just don't sleep. Sleep
is a fattening habit at best. Keep a pickle under your pillow and take a
bite when you think of it.
Lose your temper on all occasions, as nothing is more conducive to
stoutness than placidity.
Stop speaking of yourself as a Fatty, and begin to speak of yourself as
slender. Remember the power of Mind over Matter. Lead a lean life and
think thin thoughts; dress in diaphanous gauze; make hair-splitting
distinctions; talk and think much of your slender purse; walk the narrow
way and have ever in your mind the eye of the needle through which you
shall finally have to pass.--Before you know it you will lose pounds and
pounds of flesh.
RECIPES TRIED IN MY OWN KITCHEN (NIT).
BY CAROLINE TUCKER.
A GRESHAM CLUB SANDWICH.
Take two tender new pupils (Freshmen preferred, Juniors out of the
question), stick them together in a corner, with a thin slice of reserve
between them, season to taste with some spicy gossip and a little
lollapalusser. After a year in a cool place they will be fit to eat.
* * * * *
BROWN BETTY A LA FACULTY.
Take two crusty members of the faculty and let them grate against each
other until both are reduced to crumbs. Place in baking dish a layer of
crumbs and a layer of tart apples of discord well chopped. Sweeten well
with high-toned politeness, veiled with sarcasm. Serve piping hot with
the same kind of sauce you give to the gander.
* * * * *
FRENCH DRESSING AS SERVED AT GRESHAM.
Let the ingredients stay in bed until ten minutes before breakfast, then
in a wild scramble cover with a thin layer of clothes without the
formality of bathing or even taking off nightgown when breakfasting _en
famille_. Do hair with a lick and a promise and beat all the other girls
to the table.
* * * * *
FASHION NOTES.
BY VIRGINIA TUCKER.
The newest fad among the women who know and know they know, is to have
their perfume harmonize with their costumes. An up-to-date society woman
would no more wear a blue dress and smell of lavender sachet than she
would wear a lavender hat with said blue dress. Vera Violet must go with
a purple dress; Attar of Roses with a pink; New Mown Hay with
green,--and so on.
One very smart grande dame at a fine function, given lately at Gresham,
gowned in a biscuit-coloured broadcloth, had a faint, delicious odour of
hot rolls.
* * * * *
Hats are still worn hind part before and veils are put on to stay with
no visible opening. One wonders sometimes "how the apple got in the
dumpling."
Some of the newest veils have a sliding dot, to be worn over or near the
mouth. This can be opened by one knowing the combination and then a
small aperture is discovered that will admit of a straw. The soft drink
drugstore man need not despair.
* * * * *
It is not considered good taste to wear more than three shades of false
hair at one time, and a similarity in the texture of the material used
should be aimed at. The puffs must be of one shade and material although
it would be too much to expect of a woman to have them match absolutely
with the switch, rat, pompadour and bun.
Rats are no longer in vogue but traps are now considered the sanitary
and proper things. This steel construction lowers the fire rates, which
is much in its favour. If we keep on with this false hair craze what
will we come to? Perhaps to the fate of:
"This old man with a very long beard,
Who said: ''Tis just as I feared,
A lark and a wren,
Two owls and a hen
Have builded a nest in my beard.'"
If you have not hair enough of your own to cover the springs, there are
plenty of kinds, colours and materials resembling human hair to be
bought for a song. Goat hair is used a great deal as it is very durable
and strong,--too strong in one sense, as:--
"You may break, you may shatter
The vase as you will,
But the scent of the roses
Will cling 'round it still."
* * * * *
JOKES AND NEAR JOKES.
NANCY BLAIR, EDITOR.
The son of an eminent preacher was greatly interested in the story of
Adam and Eve. One night the child seemed very restless, tossing and
turning in his crib. The father leaned over him, asking: "My child, what
is the matter? Why don't you go to sleep?"
"Oh, Father, I can't! I've got such a pain in my ribs. I'm awful 'fraid
God is sending me a wife."
* * * * *
Little Anne, aged five, was asked what she was fasting on during Lent.
She answered, "Washing my hands."
* * * * *
A little girl who had never been to a wedding was greatly excited when
one was going on across the street. She was especially interested in the
little flower girls as they tripped out of the carriage in their dainty
white frocks.
"Mother!" she exclaimed. "If Daddy dies, will you marry again?"
"No, my dear! Never! Why do you ask?"
"'Cause, Mother, I do so hope you will and let me be your little flower
girl."
* * * * *
Customer--That was the driest, flattest sandwich I ever tried to chew
into!
Waiter--Why, here is your sandwich! You ate your check.
* * * * *
One of the Sophomores wants to take Psychology because she says she
understands that a course in it teaches you to do your hair up in a
lovely Psyche knot--A Psychic Phenomenon!
* * * * *
Jean Rice has burst into poetry, viz.:
"Come to my arms,
You bundle of charms!
With the greatest enthusiasm
I will clasp you to my bosiasm."
Lines written to Miss Polly Kent:
There was a young lady named Kent,
Who declared she had not a cent,
She remembered a quarter
She had hid in her garter,
But on looking found that, too, had went.
* * * * *
A touching poem addressed to Miss Grace Greer, of Chicago, Ill.
Miss Greer is the champion gum-chewer of Gresham.
There was a young maid from the West,
Who chewed gum with such marvelous zest,
That they named a committee,
Both tactful and witty
Who suggested she let her jaws rest.
* * * * *
THE CORRESPONDENCE CURE.
BY PAGE ALLISON.
CHAPTER I.
"That's just what I'll do for you, Hal. I'll write to this Uncle Sam
person and get him to give you one of his letter treatments," said Mr.
Allen, Hal's daddy.
Jo Allen was so young that his incorrigible young son called him by his
first name and regarded him as "one of the fellers" instead of a
father; consequently he thought his own judgment as reliable as his
Dad's and paid as much heed to his orders and requests as he would to
one of the "fellers."
"Thunder! I ain't sick. What I gotter have a treatment for?"
"I didn't mean anything like paregoric, or milk and eggs and a
teaspoonful of this in half a glass of water after meals. It seems to be
something like this: an old man, calling himself 'Uncle Sam,' advertises
in the _Times_ that he will write fatherly letters to difficult boys for
$50.00 a course."
"Aw, Jo! I swear, I bet it's a lot of stuff about 'do unto others.'" Hal
always objected to other people's suggestions.
"Well, we'll take a chance on it. You don't like my methods, if you can
call 'em that. You are my first and only offspring and I don't seem to
have much maternal instinct and no judgment where you are concerned.
Son, it is as hard for you not to have your mother as it is for me not
to have my wife."
"It's all right, Jo, you know more 'bout being a father than I do 'bout
being a son. But bring on your Uncle Sam and we can see what will
happen. I don't have to read the letters if he writes a lot of rot."
"Nine o'clock! I ought to be at the office and and you ought to be at
school. Don't play hookey again to-day," Jo Allen said as he reached for
his hat.
Jo was a corporation lawyer and when he told the other members of his
firm about his latest plans for bringing up his son, they all laughed.
"What next, Jo? 'Sons put on the right path by mail.' It's a joke all
right and so are you and Hal. You can't do a thing with that kid! When
he stole the preacher's white horse and painted 'Hell' on it you just
laughed. Why don't you beat him up a little?" inquired Jones
good-naturedly.
"But he is not downright bad, he is just mischievous and full of life. I
can't do anything to him because it is all just what I used to do when
I was a kid,--behold the monument!"
"He looks so much like you that I always think something has happened to
the clock and it is twenty years ago whenever I see him. He's got your
snappy grey eyes and black hair and Sally's Greek instead of our honored
partner's 'Roaming.'"
Jo was always pleased when it was said that his son looked like him, for
he knew that they were both of them extremely goodlooking. And, too, he
was secretly proud of his slightly Roman nose, which did add a certain
air of distinction to such a young man.
He dictated a letter to Uncle Sam and two days later Hal got the first
installment.
"Dear Hal:
"When I was a boy of twelve, just your age, I had
just about the reputation you have. But my father
had a family of seven children, of which I was the
youngest, so when I cut up he knew just what to do
with me. He realized that I had a great deal of
surplus energy and having no good way of working
it off, I always got into mischief and sometimes
into rather serious trouble.
"Your Dad told me about your stealing the
minister's horse and putting a large red 'Hell' on
one of his sides. When I was a boy I remember that
I made a bomb out of a little powder and an old
sock and put it under the porch of a Negro church
(Hal, as man to man, I trust you not to try this
stunt). Of course I stayed to watch the fun. I
thought the fuse was longer than it was and came
closer to adjust it--Bang! and I was left with no
eyebrows. I was too scared to run and the darkeys
began to pour out, threatening darkly as to the
future welfare of my soul. They caught me and took
me to the county lockup. That evening my brother
came and bailed me out. My father asked me where
my eyebrows were, and I said, 'I reckon part of
them are by the Nigger church.' Of course he
gradually got the details and a very thick silence
followed. Then he told me just what I am going to
tell you. But first,--Hal, don't you think it's
funny what a passion all boys have to torment the
parsons of both the white and black race? I do.
"Dad said that I needed to be kept busy and with
something that gave me pleasure. He was never
strong on punishment and he suggested something
that pleased me mightily. He said that if I would
build a canoe and a pair of paddles by the last of
May he would give me and three of my friends a
camp for two weeks by the river. I was glad my
eyebrows were gone, for who doesn't like to camp?
"Now, Son, you ask your dad if he won't make this
same agreement. You have a month to do it in and I
reckon you can have a dandy canoe made by that
time.
"Let me know what Mr. Allen says.
"Sincerely,
"UNCLE SAM."
Hal looked over the letter at his daddy and thought a minute. Then he
said: "Jo, this here Uncle Sam ain't so worse. Here's a pretty decent
thought that rattled out of his head." Mr. Allen took the letter and
read it and then he, too, thought a minute.
"I'm on, Son," he said, "and you can have your friends to help you."
"All right! Then shall I write and tell our darling Unkil that it's a
go?"
And this was the letter Uncle Sam got from the "wayward youth he was
trying to straighten out":
"Mr. Uncle Sam,
---- Building,
New York.
"Dear Uncle S.:
"Yours of the inst. rec'd., first. Jo--that's my
dad and He's a peach too let me tell you--says
your idea suits him fine and anyway he always goes
to New York the first two weeks in June on
business and then I have to stay with Aunt Maria
at Sunny Glen and I hate it because she is so
clean. I hate to milk too and she is so afraid
I'll get drowned when I swim in the icepond. She
is a terrible nut because I can swim fine. I've
got a monogram for my sweater for swimming at the
Y. M. C. A. pool and that's bigger and deeper than
old spit-in-the-fire Aunt Maria's dinky little
icepond. Daddy took me in the roadster over to the
next town to order the stuff for the canoe. What
do you think would be a good name for her after we
finish it? We've put up part of the skeleton
already. Sometimes on a straight road Jo lets me
run the roadster--it's a Mercer. Do you like
Mercers? I like them the best and so does Jo. I
can't change gear very good yet and I am too young
to get a license but I am strong enough to crank
it. I've got right much muscle. Did you like to
fight when you were a boy? I love my black eyes on
other people. Jo says it is tough to fight, so he
boxes with me. He can box fine, too. He can beat
me swimming and diving all to pieces, too. I've
got to stop now because Pete is whistling for me
to come catch with him.
"Rept. HAL ALLEN."
CHAPTER II.
"Jo, I wish you would bring me a Remington rifle from New York. I'm old
enough to have a good one now, and tell my reformer I named the canoe
'Uncle Sam'. I like that old man so much I wish he'd come down here to
live."
"So long, Son! I hope you will have a peach of a time at your camp. Oh,
yes! Aunt Maria told me to be sure and tell you not to go swimming but
once a day, but I always lived in my bathing suit--at least we will say
I had a bathing suit--and you can do the same."
It was only an hour's trip to New York and Jo was busy thinking about
the change in Hal and wondering if Uncle Sam would consider it strange
for him to invite him to go home on a visit. He decided he would go by
Uncle Sam's office and speak to him and make an engagement for the
theatre that night.
Jo Allen stopped a minute in front of Uncle Sam's office door to get out
a card and then he rang the bell. A very handsome, auburn-haired,
green-eyed girl answered his ring and he gave her his card with a rather
bewildered smile, for he wondered why such an old man as Uncle Sam kept
such a darned good-looking female to tickle the keys.
"May I see Uncle Sam?" he asked.
"Why, certainly!" she said. "Please come in."
Her "Certainly" sounded Southern to Jo. He might have thought some more
but he was interrupted by the girl.
"You will sit down, won't you?" she smiled at him from her swivel chair.
"Thank you! Will Uncle Sam be along soon do you think?" he queried.
"Oh! I thought you understood. Why, Mr. Allen, I am Uncle Sam."
"Ohgoodlord!" Jo said it very loud and as though it were all one word.
Then after a minute, "What the devil will Hal say when he finds his
Uncle Sam is a woman?"
"I see no reason why he should know." Uncle Sam was very calm and
unconcerned.
"But you see I swore I'd bring Uncle Sam back on a visit. I had it all
planned out that Uncle Sam and I would take in a show to-night...."
"I don't reckon Uncle Sam would mind going to the theatre, Mr. Allen.
You might ask him," said the girl very frankly.
"Good for you, Uncle Sam,--you are a peach, after all. Hal may be
disappointed, but, believe me, I am not. I wish you would tell me your
name."
Jo was looking much happier now. He had forgotten what Hal would say
when he got home Uncle Samless,--but really her hair and eyes were
enough to make him forget and her voice was very musical with its
Southern accent.
"Page Carter," she told him, "and I suppose you want to know the whys
and wherefores of Uncle Sam's business. Well, you can probably tell from
my name that I am a Virginian and from my occupation that I am poor, and
if you could see my brain at work or my poor attempts at sewing, you
would see why I had to choose this way of making a living. Yes, I had to
do it. You see, my mother and father are dead and I could not accept my
friends' kind invitations to come and be their barnacles."
"Miss Carter, you need not worry about the workings of your brain. That
was a dandy bluff you put up. I could see you with white hair, seated at
a desk, writing Hal about your boyhood scrapes. Let's make it a supper
before the theatre. Are you game?"
"Sure," she said.
Jo noticed she did not have to look in a mirror to make her hat
becoming.
"Mr. Allen, your son has written me so much about you that I feel as
though I knew you. That is very bromidic, but it is so."
Jo never knew what they had for dinner and Page Carter did not get many
of the lines of the play. She had always been strong for black hair and
grey eyes. She knew, too, that he was successful from his clothes and
Hal's remarks about the Mercer, and he surely was an amusing companion.
Hal interested her. New York wasn't much when you were in it by yourself
and it was very evident that Jo liked her and his grey eyes were
beginning to look....
The play was over; and she had promised to meet him for lunch and
afterwards to pick out a rifle for Hal.
A week later Hal jumped out of the canoe and rushed up to the boys in
camp and waved a yellow slip of paper before them. "Listen," he yelled,
"'Be home to-morrow. Got rifle. Uncle Sam with me. Dad.'"
CHAPTER XIV.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.
_Nods and Becks_ met with great favour and we felt after our labours
that we had earned the good times we meant to have during the holidays.
The Tuckers had decided to come to Bracken for Christmas, so we were in
the seventh heaven of bliss. Annie and Mary could not accept the
invitation that Father had told me to give them as they had to go to
their respective homes, Annie to be with her dignified paternal
relative, and Mary with what she assured us was a far from dignified
maternal one.
We had never met any of Mary's people but hoped to some day, as all she
told us of them sounded pretty nice. She had no father but was unique
among us as she actually could boast a mother. She had one little tiny
sister and a big brother who was a mining engineer. The Flannagans
lived in the valley of Virginia. They were of rugged Scotch-Irish stock,
very different from the softer, aristocratic types to be seen in the
tide-water section. Their home was in Harrisonburg and we knew
afterwards that they were well off but no word from Mary ever gave us to
understand it. She always was quick to pay her share and more than her
share in any jaunt we went on together, but I believe I never heard Mary
mention money. Tweedles and I used to wonder if they were not fabulously
wealthy because of all the material that was wasted in Mary's voluminous
skirts. It seems that Mary's mother always wore full skirts and she just
had Mary's made the same way.
The last night before the holidays we broke about all the rules we could
remember. Some may have escaped us, but I doubt it. We cooked in our
rooms; visited in other girls' rooms; laughed and made a racket in the
halls; slid down the bannisters; and were generally obstreperous,--so
much so that Miss Plympton said we would have to work off our demerits
when we got back from the holidays. This pleasing bit of news she
imparted to us at the very early breakfast we had on the morning of our
departure. But we were going home, and threatened demerits after the
holidays had no more effect on our spirits than a sermon on hell fire
would have had on the ardour of a new-born babe.
On the way to the station we passed our dear old friend, Captain Pat
Leahy, who was faithfully keeping the gate at the railroad crossing. He
stumped out on his peg leg to give us the "top o' the morning."
"An' phwat do ye hear of that poorrr sick angel, Miss Peyton? Bless her
heart!"
"We believe she is recovering, Captain Leahy. We miss her terribly."
"Miss her! I should say ye would, with her winnin' ways and the kind
smile of her. And phwat does the managemint mene by hoistin' a lady on
ye poorr lambs with the manners of a Tammany boss? Whin I saw her
schtriding off of the trrain last Siptimber in her men's clothes, all
but the pants, and a voice like a trrain butcherr, I said to meself:
'Pat Leahy, ther'll be trooble oop at Gresham this sission!' I knew it
more than iver whin she pushed me cats away with her oombrella that she
carried like a shillalah. A lady, whin she has no use for cats, is
either a very timid lady and surely no fit person to look arfter a
girls' school, or ilse she is that hard-hearted that she ought to have
the job of dhriving a team of mules to a rock waggon."
"How are the cats, Captain?" asked Dee.
"Foine, missy, foine! And here is Oliverr, grown to sich a great schize
ye woud scarcely know him. He got over his runtiness jist as soon as you
young ladies took oop with him."
Oliver came running out of the little gate house at sound of his name.
He had indeed grown to be a handsome cat. Dee, of course, had to stop
and take him in her arms for a moment. Oliver was the kitten, grown into
a great cat, that Dee had taken to her room the winter before. We would
never forget the night he spent with us nor our efforts to feed him
milk, heated over a candle.
"I wonder what Miss Plympton would have said if we had gone to her and
confessed about the kitten, as we did to Miss Peyton," said Dum.
"Said!" exclaimed Captain Leahy. "Why, phwat she would have said would
not be fit to print!" and he gave a great laugh which rang pleasantly in
our ears as we ran to catch the train that was coming around the curve.
The train was full of girls going home for the holidays and a very gay
crowd we were in spite of its being so very early in the morning. We had
come off with so little breakfast that it was not worthy of the name.
Crackers and jam and weak coffee, heated over from last night's brewing,
but not much heated over, just warmed up to the tepid temperature of a
baby's bath, is not very satisfying to the growing girl.
I can't see why the food at boarding school for both boys and girls
seems to be the last thing considered. Their minds and morals are looked
after with great care but their inner men are simply ignored. All the
catalogues say: "Food wholesome and plentiful," but to my mind that at
Gresham was neither. When it was poor it was plentiful and when it was
plentiful it was poor, but if something was served very good and
palatable, it usually gave out. Under Miss Plympton's regime it was much
worse than when Miss Peyton wielded the scepter. Miss Peyton insisted on
a certain balance of diet at least and had many a talk with the dull old
housekeeper, who, I am sure, was the only person in the world who
preferred Miss Plympton to Miss Peyton. Miss Plympton did not at all
object to three kinds of beans being served at one meal, or sweet
potatoes and Irish potatoes with no touch of green food. On the other
hand when the housekeeper chose to have turnip salad and cabbage on the
same day, so that we felt like Nebuchadnezzar when he ate grass like an
ox, our principal said nothing. Girls' insides must be disciplined, too.
If skim milk was served with their cereal that was more than they
deserved.
During that first half of my second term at Gresham I had to remember
very often what Margaret Sayre had said to me about looking at the
mountains when things did not go just exactly to suit me. I looked at
them a great deal that first half. I had a good appetite as a rule but
had been spoiled by Mammy Susan, whose one idea seemed to be to give me
what I wanted, and the consequence was that unless food was well cooked
and seasoned, I simply did not eat. Tweedles ate anyhow, but long
stretches of cafes or boarding houses had inured them to cooking that I
simply could not stomach.
"You are a regular princess, Page," said Dee to me on that morning when
we were leaving for the holidays. "Of course the food is bum but it is
better than going empty."
"Maybe it is, but I can't swallow bad coffee."
"But you are looking as pale as a little ghost and you are so thin you
can't keep on your skirts."
This I could not deny as at that minute I had my skirt lapped over two
inches and pinned with a large safety pin to keep it from dropping off
altogether.
"I'll buck up when I get home. Two weeks of feeding will fill out my
belt again," I laughed.
I left the Tuckers at Richmond and went on that day to Milton where
Father met me and drove me over to Bracken. My, it was good to be home!
Mammy Susan almost ate me up for joy, and the dogs actually threw me
down in their efforts to get first lick.
"Why, honey, chile, you is sho thin and peaked lookin'," declared my
dear old friend. "You ain't no bigger'n a minute. What all them
teacher's been a doin' to you?"
"She is thin, Mammy Susan," broke in Father, "and I am going to put her
on an iron tonic right away. She tells me she has no appetite."
"Well, now, that's too bad! I done made a mess er chicken gumbo fer
dinner and some er them lil bits er thin biscuit. I done knocked up a
blackberry roll, too, with hard sauce that is as soft and fluffy as a
cloud in Spring. It's too bad my baby ain't got no appletite."
It was too bad surely, but if I had had one I don't know what I would
have done, as without one I ate like a field hand.
"Looks lak she is able to worry down somethin'," said Mammy Susan with
a sly twinkle in her eye as she brought in another plate of hot biscuit.
"Don't forgit, honey chile, to save a little spot on you innards fer the
blackberry roll. It sho do smell toothsome. I is moughty glad them
twinses is comin' down fer Christmas an' they paw, too. Did Docallison
tell you that Blanche is goin' to be here enduring of the holidays?"
Blanche was Mammy Susan's relative who had cooked for the Tuckers during
the memorable house-party at Willoughby.
The Tuckers were to come to Bracken on Christmas Eve. We were expecting
Stephen White, also, and Mammy Susan said Blanche was to arrive on that
day, too. I busied myself helping Mammy Susan prepare for the guests.
There was much to be done in the way of fresh curtains in the bed rooms,
rubbing silver and furniture, and dusting books. Mammy Susan had plum
pudding, fruit cake and pies to make, and I helped with all of them.
The kitchen at Bracken was a wonderful place. I believe I loved it more
than any spot on earth. It was not under the same roof as the house but
connected with it by a covered porch, enclosed in glass. This passage
way had been my nursery as a child. Mammy Susan always had it filled
with flowers in winter, gay geraniums in old tomato cans, begonias,
heliotrope, ferns and a citronella, that furnished slips for half the
county. The more slips that were taken from it, the more vigorous it
would become.
"That there limon verbeny 'minds me of Docallison," said Mammy. "The mo'
it do give er itself, the mo' it do seem to have ter give. It looks lak
as soon as yo' paw done finished wearing hisself out fer somebody,
another pusson is a callin' on him; an' jes lak the limon verbeny, he
branches out mo' the mo' he does."
"He is thinking of having some one to help him, Mammy Susan. Don't you
think it would be a good plan?"
"Well, 'twill an' 'twon't! Ef'n he gits a man young enough ter take the
bossin' that a helper's boun' ter git, he'll be too young ter suit the
dead an' dyin'. Whin folks is sick they don't want no chilluns a
feelin' of they pulps."
"But he has in mind a young man who might take the bossing and make a
good impression on the patients, too. He is coming on Christmas Eve for
a visit and you must tell me what you think of him."
"Is he yo' beau, honey?"
"Why, Mammy Susan, how absurd!"
"'Tain't so terruble absurd. Beaux is lak measles an' mumps. If you
don't have 'em young, you mought go through life 'thout ever havin' 'em,
but you is always kinder spectin' tew catch 'em. Ef you take 'em young,
you don't take 'em quite so hard."
Mammy Susan's philosophy always delighted me and I encouraged her to go
on. I was sitting in the doorway of the kitchen where I could smell the
heliotrope and citronella while I chopped apples and meat for the mince
pies. Mammy was seeding raisins. She never would let the seeded raisins
come in the house, scorning them as some kind of new-fangled invention
that would ruin her pies and puddings.
"Them unseedless raisins make lazy folks pies 'thout no virtue or
suption in 'em."
The kitchen was a low ceilinged room about twenty feet square. A range
and great wood box occupied one side, with a copper sink and a pump.
There was no plumbing in Bracken and this primitive pump connected with
the well was all we could boast in the way of conveniences. In the broad
window sills were more tomato cans of geraniums and various slips that
Mammy was starting for neighbours. Skillets and pots and pans of various
sizes were inverted on the many shelves, which were covered with
newspapers with fancy scalloped borders and beautiful open-work patterns
that it had always been my duty and pleasure as a child to cut out for
Mammy Susan. Festooned from the rafters were long strings of bright red
peppers, dried okra, onions and bunches of thyme and bay. Pots of
parsley and chives occupied one of the sunny windows. Mammy Susan held
that: "Seasonin' is the maindest thing in cookin', that an' 'lowin'
victuals to simper and not bile too hard."
"Mammy, is this going to be enough mince meat?"
"Sho, chile! That's the quantity fer six full pies, none of yo' skimpy
kin' wif the top pastry sticking to the bottom, lookin' lak some folks
what don't boast no insides ter speak of,--but the full fleshed
kind--them's what I call pies. I'm goin' ter make that there Blanche
stir up a Lady Balmoral cake soon's she gits here. The Twinses and they
paw kin git on the ou'side of a passel er victuals, and the saftest
thing is ter have a plenty of them cooked up fer 'mergencies. Kin this
new beau, Mr. White, eat as much as Mr. Tucker?"
"Why, I don't know. I never noticed."
"Well, then you ain't considerin' of him very serious lak. Whin a gal is
studyin' 'bout a man, the very fust thing she takes notice on is his
appletite. She'll know that whin she ain't quite sho what colour his
eyes is, an' she'll want ter dish up his fav'rite victuals ev'y chanct
she gits."
I laughed and went on chopping apples. How peaceful and happy
everything was at Bracken! The wind was blowing up cold and it looked
like snow but the kitchen was warm, so warm that it easily spared heat
for the glass porch and all the growing plants. The delicious smell of
Mammy's fruit cake, baking in the range, mingled with the citronella and
the wine sap apples I was chopping. Mammy reached up and broke off a pod
of red pepper to drop in the bean soup that was bubbling in a great iron
pot.
"Put a little bay in, too, Mammy, I love it." Instead of needing iron
tonic as Father had thought, I really needed a restraining hand. I felt
as though I could never get enough to eat. Bean soup, so despised at
Gresham, was being made at my request,--but then, there is bean soup and
bean soup. "Please, Mammy Susan, have batter bread at least twice a day
while Mr. Tucker is here. He is just crazy about it."
"All right, honey chile!" I wondered what made Mammy Susan look at me so
long and searchingly.
"Is there anything more I can do for you, Mammy?"
"No, chile, the cookery is about 'complished. All I've got ter do now is
straighten up my shelbs with clean papers."
"Oh, please let me cut the papers!"
"'Deed you kin!" exclaimed the old woman delightedly. "I was afeerd you
done got so growd-up with beaux an' things that you done los' yo' tase
fer makin' pretty patterns fer the shelbs."
So she got out some big shears and a pile of newspapers and I outdid
myself in wonderful lacy patterns and scallops that made the old kitchen
beautiful for Christmas.
CHAPTER XV.
CHRISTMAS GUESTS.
It began to snow before dawn on Christmas Eve and kept it up steadily
all morning. It was a fine dry snow that gave promise of good sleighing,
and Father and I were delighted. He loved snow like a boy, provided it
was the kind of snow that meant good sleighing. The colt was hitched to
a little red cutter and they whizzed off to the sick folks with such a
merry ringing of the bells that just the sound of them must have made
the sufferers feel better.
The Tuckers were to arrive on the three train, also Stephen White and
perhaps Blanche. The roads were in a bad fix between Milton and Richmond
and we feared to trust Henry Ford, so our friends were forced to travel
by rail. The big wood sled was put into commission, with an old wagon
bed screwed on top of it, and when this was filled with hay, I am sure
no limousine in the world could offer more luxurious transportation.
It had stopped snowing and the sun was trying to shine when I clambered
into my equipage with Peg and one of the younger plow horses hitched to
it. I stood up to drive, knee-deep in hay. Peg and the plow horse acted
like two-year-olds and did the six miles to Milton almost as easily as
Father and the colt. When the train came puffing up, they actually had
the impertinence to shy and prance, much to the delight of our guests
who came tumbling out of the last coach so laden with bundles that you
could not tell which was which.
Such excitement on the little station of Milton, usually so quiet and
sedate! First came Dee carrying Brindle, wrapped in a plaid shawl,
looking, as Zebedee said, like an emigrant baby, then Zebedee and Wink,
with suit cases and great boxes and paper parcels; then Dum with more
valises and more boxes and parcels.
I was astonished to see Mr. Reginald Kent bringing up the rear. He,
too, was almost completely concealed with baggage and bundles, but I
could see his smiling, ruddy countenance above his load.
"Why, Mr. Kent, I saw Jo yesterday and he did not tell me you were
coming!" I exclaimed as he dropped some of his packages so he could
shake my hand.
"I did not let him know. I find when Cousin Sally expects me she makes
herself sick cooking for me, so I thought I would surprise them."
I certainly liked his spirit of unselfishness. Not many young men would
have thought of sparing a middle-aged, complaining cousin whose one
attraction was her cooking. Just then Jo Winn came gliding up in his
little cutter, ostensibly for the mail but in reality to catch a glimpse
of Dee who was the one female I have ever seen the shy man at his ease
with. Of course he was at his ease with me, having known me since I was
a baby, but I somehow never think of myself as a female to make the
males tremble.
Our hilarious greetings were under way and the train had begun to move
when an agonizing screech came from the coloured coach, the one nearest
the engine. There was a great ringing of the bell and then there emerged
the portly form of "poor dear Blanche," as Zebedee always called the
girl who had cooked for us at Willoughby the summer before,--not to her
face, of course.
Her great black-plumed hat was all awry, and from the huge basket, that
she always carried in lieu of a valise, there dragged long green
stockings and some much belaced lingerie. She was greatly excited,
having come within an ace of passing the station.
"I was in the embrace of Morphine, as it were, Miss Page, and had no
recognizance of having derived at our predestination, whin I was sudden
like brought to my sensibleness by hearing the dulsom tones of Miss Dum
a greeting you. I jumped up and called loud and long for the inductor to
come to my resistance. The train had begun to prognosticate! I was in
respiration whin a dark complected gentleman in the seat opposing mine,
very kindly impeded the bell by reducing the rope."
"What did the conductor say?" I knew that it was a terrible offense for
a non-official to pull the bell rope.
"Say! Why, Miss Page, 'twould bring the blush of remortifycation to my
maiden meditations to repetition that white man's langige."
It was cheering indeed to hear Blanche's inimitable conversation once
more. Thank goodness, there were enough other things to laugh at for her
not to know we were overcome by her remarks. We bundled her into the far
back corner of the sled, where she sat like a Zulu queen on a throne.
Good-byes were called to Jo Winn and his cousin, who said they would
come over to Bracken after supper to help decorate the house. I had
promised Tweedles not to decorate until they came, but I had had some
great boughs of holly cut ready for the rite. I had gathered quantities
of running cedar myself and, at the risk of my foolish neck, had climbed
up a great walnut tree and sawed off a stumpy branch literally loaded
with mistletoe.
"I bid to drive," cried Zebedee as soon as the crowd was packed in the
sled. "Do you stand up to it?"
"Yes, you always stand in a wood sled." I should have said: "Be
careful!" as the art of driving standing is not one acquired in a
moment, but I was so accustomed to Mr. Tucker's doing things well that I
never even thought of it.
"Gee up!" he called, cracking the whip.
The plow horse and Peg geed all right and Zebedee, accustomed to running
a small automobile or driving a light buggy, had no idea of the skill
necessary to stand up on a large wood sled and safely turn it around
without turning over. We twisted around on one runner and nothing but
the fact that Blanche's great weight was on the upper side saved us from
a very neat turnover. Zebedee lost his balance and, still clutching
wildly at the reins, shot over our heads into the soft and comfortable
snow. Pegasus and the plow horse fortunately took it all as a matter of
course in their day's work, and although Zebedee's flying leap jerked
them back on their haunches in a very rude and unmannerly way, they
never budged, but waited for their crestfallen Jehu to pick himself up
out of the snow bank and climb back into place.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he reproached me as we roared with laughter.
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me to use the knowledge I have obtained as a strap hanger on
trolley cars to keep my balance in a wood sled!"
"This is the way to stand: put your feet far apart, so," said I, suiting
the action to the word; and taking the reins in my hands, clucked to my
team and we started gaily off, the sleigh bells jingling merrily.
Everybody had to have a turn at driving standing up, and in the six
miles we had to go to reach Bracken, they had more or less mastered the
art.
I love Bracken and am always proud of it, but there are times when it
seems more beautiful and lovable than at others, and on that Christmas
Eve it never had been more attractive. Fires glowed in every grate.
Indeed, Bill, the yard boy, whose duty it was to keep the wood chopped
and the fires going, said he had "done got lop-sided a totin' wood." The
house shone with cleanliness and smelt of all kinds of delicious things:
Christmas greens, mince pies, spiced beef, and dried lavender. Lavender
was always kept between the sheets in the linen press and when many beds
had just been freshly made the whole place would smell of it.
My Mammy Susan was a rather unique specimen of her race. As a rule,
darkeys need a boss to be kept up to a certain standard. They are far
from orderly, and wastefulness is their watchword. Now Mammy did to a
letter everything that my mother, with all the enthusiasm of a young
housekeeper, had thought necessary and that, combined with the solid
training she had received at the hands of my paternal grandmother, to
whose family she had belonged before the war, meant a very well kept
house. Father and I were so accustomed to her wonderful management that
we would not have known how wonderful it was if it had not been for the
many summer visiting cousins who sang Mammy's praises while telling of
their own vicissitudes with domestics.
Mammy's one fault was that she could not abide having an assistant in
the house, and the consequence was we were in daily and hourly dread of
her giving out and being ill. She had tried girl after girl, but they
had always been found wanting. She preferred having a boy to help her,
so the yard boy was called on whenever she needed him. She bossed Bill
and Bill "sassed" her, but they were on the whole very fond of each
other. Bill was about twenty, very black and bow-legged, and so
good-natured that it was impossible to anger him. Bill was fitted out
with white coats and Mammy and I had been endeavouring to train him to
wait on the table, with most ludicrous results. He had once been on a
steamboat and so aped the airs of the steamboat waiters. He would
balance a tray on his five fingers and, holding it above his head, would
actually cake walk into the dining room.
"This here ain't no side show Docallison is a runnin'," Mammy would say.
"What the reason you feel lak you got ter walk lak a champinzee? All you
needs is a monkey tail stickin' out from that ere new coat ter make you
look jis' lak a keriller I done seed onct at a succus. Come on here,
nigger, and take in dese victuals I done dished up befo' dey is stone
cold."
And Bill would grin and reply, "You come on and put dis ice I done dug
out de ice house in de frigidrater befo' it gits hot;" and so waged the
merry war between the old woman and the boy.
Blanche was quite a favourite of Mammy's and she looked forward to her
visit with enthusiasm. The girl, being on the footing of a guest, did
not come in for her share of abuse that the old woman usually felt bound
to administer to the young coloured girls who came her way.
She came out to the driveway to meet us on that Christmas Eve, her dear
old head bound up in the gayest of bandannas and her purple calico
starched to a stiffness that would easily have permitted it to stand
alone.
The Tuckers greeted her with the greatest affection. I introduced
Stephen White, who showed himself to be the gentleman I knew he was by
his very kind and cordial manner in speaking to the old woman. Nothing
is a greater test of breeding than a person's manner on such an
occasion.
The old woman looked at him keenly and kindly. Wink was very good
looking with his clear brown eyes and the rather stubborn mouth that the
carefully tended moustache was doing its best to hide. Wink's moustache
was really getting huge and it gave him very much the air of a boy
masquerading as a man with a false moustache. Every time I looked at it
I had an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh. If he would only trim it
down a little!
"My little miss is done named you to me befo'," said Mammy with great
cordiality.
"Oh, has she really? That certainly was kind of her."
"Well, it warn't much trouble fer her to do it," explained Mammy,
fearful that she might be giving the young man too much encouragement.
"What she done said was that she ain't never noticed whether you is much
of a hand fer victuals or not."
"Well, I can tell you he is," laughed Dee. "He is almost as good a hand
as the Tuckers."
CHAPTER XVI.
CHRISTMAS EVE AT BRACKEN.
"Do all of you want to go to-morrow morning with Page
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