MADEMOISELLE
Next morning dawned bright and clear--another day like midsummer--and,
when Jacquette began to dress, a remark that Louise had made on the way
home from the spread the night before, came into her mind.
“This is your travelling suit, isn’t it?” Louise had said. “It’s so
appropriate--plain and dark! I love plain things for travelling, don’t
you?”
With this in her thoughts, Jacquette discarded the simple shirt-waist
suit she had intended to wear, and took out, instead, a fluffy
rose-coloured mull, which Aunt Sula had advised her to put on often for
dinner, while she was visiting at Uncle Malcolm’s.
She felt repaid for the change when she saw Aunt Fanny’s welcoming
smile and Quis’s glance of admiration, at breakfast. Uncle Mac studied
her without comment, but, just as she was starting for school, he put
his arm around her and whispered, tenderly,
“Your mother’s own daughter--that’s what you are! Don’t let ’em spoil
you with their secret societies and things. Keep your pretty head
level.”
The pretty head, hatless this morning, nodded confidently as Jacquette
tripped away at Marquis’s side.
Louise Markham joined them at the corner, and, a block or two farther
on, Marquis excused himself to walk with a boy who had met them at one
of the cross-streets.
“We needn’t feel jealous,” Louise said, with a smile, as Marquis left
them. “It isn’t because he prefers Clarence Mullen’s company to ours.”
“What made him go, then?” Jacquette asked.
“Oh, business! The Beta Sigs want to pledge that little fellow, and two
or three other fraternities are after him, too, so Quis couldn’t lose
this chance of courting him.”
“But, Louise, that boy has such a queer, sly-looking face! I thought so
the minute I saw him. Is he nice?”
Louise shrugged her shoulders good-naturedly. “His father has loads of
money and a ball-room in his house.”
“You don’t mean to say that Quis’s fraternity would choose a boy for
those things?”
There was a scandalised note in Jacquette’s voice, and Louise laughed.
“Not really,” she said. “I don’t actually know anything against that
Mullen boy, but somehow, I feel just as you do about him--creepy--and
I can’t help thinking that his father’s financial position may have
a little to do with all the fraternities rushing him so hard. Maybe
that’s unjust. I don’t know--but I do know, Jacquette, that when a girl
can look as much like a flower as you do in that pink dress, she has no
business ever to wear plain things.”
“Oh, Louise!” Jacquette protested, looking more like a flower than
ever, as they turned into the school entrance, and walked up to the
office to register.
When they came out into the hall again, Louise said, “Well, you’re
assigned to room 17, I see. That means you’re going to bloom in
Mademoiselle’s rose-garden. I ’most wish I were a freshman or
sophomore, so I could be there with you. We seniors have to go up on
the top floor.”
“What is Mademoiselle’s rose garden?”
“Come in here and see,” was the answer, as Louise led Jacquette into
room 17 and straight to Mademoiselle Dubois’s desk, where a half dozen
pupils were standing in line, waiting for the French teacher to assign
them seats in her study room.
[Illustration: _Just as she was starting for school, Uncle Mac put his
arms around her_]
Mademoiselle, a slight figure dressed in black, was writing busily,
but, after a moment, she lifted her head and fixed a pair of searching
eyes on Jacquette. Instantly, the girl was conscious of a forceful
character, masked by a dimpling face, which revealed nothing.
“Jacquette Willard,” Mademoiselle repeated after Louise, in honeyed
tones. “A little French name, is it not? But it is not a little French
girl? No? Ah, a cousin of Marquis Granville, did you say? My cunning
chicken, I am charmed to meet you! You are going to be my child, for I
know your cousin well, and, indeed, I am so fond of that little wretch!”
Jacquette gasped, and, before she could stammer a word in reply,
Louise’s laugh had bubbled forth.
“Your old abominable laugh, my sweet pet,” Mademoiselle chided, turning
to Louise and speaking in the same mellifluous voice. “You have carried
it through high school, and you will carry it into womanhood. It is
scandalous, dearie. You shall have that seat next the aisle, my little
plum-tree,” she added, addressing Jacquette again. “The one in the
second row, honey, and Louise, the dear child, shall help you make out
your programme for the quarter. You see that all the classes and all
the hours are plainly written on the board, don’t you, dearie? Go now,
Louise, and help the little Willard, before the bell rings.”
“There! How do you like Mademoiselle?” Louise whispered, as soon as
they were seated. “All the other teachers in high school call you
‘Miss’--but not Mademoiselle! She makes you feel, just at first, as if
you’d dropped back into kindergarten, but don’t deceive yourself--you
haven’t! There isn’t a more respected, better obeyed teacher in Marston
than Mademoiselle Dubois, and, as for French, what she doesn’t know
about it isn’t worth learning. Did you notice how she spoke about my
laugh? She’s just right. I can’t control it to save my life. But isn’t
she great?”
“Great--I should think she was!” Jacquette agreed, impulsively. “I’m
afraid of her and I like her at the same minute. ‘My cunning chicken’!
Louise, I’ve had one year of French at home; I hope I can take my
second year with her.”
“All right; let’s plan it that way.” And the girls fell to work on
Jacquette’s programme.
Tap, tap, tap, sounded on Mademoiselle’s desk, when they had nearly
finished.
“Now, my little flock,” said the small Frenchwoman, standing behind her
desk to address the roomful of fifty young people, whose ages ranged
from fifteen to eighteen. “My sweet pets”--she paused and dimpled--“at
the beginning of the year, I will explain to you the meaning of the
bells. You see, I never have the least particle of trouble with the
dear children who study in my room--not the least particle--after
I have once explained the meaning of the bells. It is this: First
bell, no walking; second bell, no talking; and third bell”--her voice
had dropped almost to a whisper--“when the third bell rings, in
Mademoiselle’s room, it is always as _still as a little rose garden!_”
“What did I tell you?” murmured Louise. “See how they strain their ears
to catch every word she says.”
“If I hear any voice,” Mademoiselle’s hushed tones went on, after she
had cast one keen glance at Louise, “if there is ever any sound at all,
I know it must be an echo from that bad room across the hall, for my
children never give me the least particle of trouble--the sweet pets!
“Very good. You are just as I knew you would be, dear children. Now,
Alice, honey, when you registered yesterday, did you not ask to be
excused from drawing, this quarter?”
“Yes, Mademoiselle Dubois,” answered a tall, serious looking sophomore,
who had evidently met Mademoiselle, before.
“Well, sweet pet, did you bring your note of excuse from mamma, to-day?”
“No, Mademoiselle, I forgot it.”
“I am so sorry, Alice, because you see, dearie, you must go right
home after it, and that means you will miss the first and second
period--both recitations for you--and that means”--lingeringly and
lovingly--“that means two--little--zeros! And you see, Alice, that it
always pays, in Mademoiselle’s room, for her dear little peacocks to do
everything just at the right little minute, because, if they don’t, it
means t-r-o-t, trot!”
She pointed a tiny finger at the door, and, to Jacquette’s wondering
amazement, tall Alice meekly departed.
As the door closed behind her, Mademoiselle assumed a meditative
expression. “There are three people talking in this room at present,”
she said softly, addressing a distant spot on the ceiling. “I am
one of them; I wonder who the other two could be! Chester!” she
added, suddenly, fixing her eyes on a corner of the room where a sly
whispering was in progress. “Take your books, honey, and come to this
row at once. No, not there,” she demurred, as the big, broad-shouldered
fellow sheepishly obeyed. “I reserve those seats for my French class,
and if you should be studying there, and I should imagine you were one
of my French class who was not paying attention, you might get your
sweet little ears boxed! Now, as I was about to say, when I was so
_rudely_ interrupted----”
But the things Mademoiselle wished to say had to be postponed, for the
bell sounded, and the pupils of her second year French class--some
from her own room, and some from other rooms--began to assemble in
the front rows. Louise gave Jacquette’s hand a farewell squeeze,
and hurried away to a class of her own on the upper floor, while
Jacquette, left alone for the first time, shyly took her place among
Mademoiselle’s pupils, wondering, as she did so, whether she was likely
to get her “sweet little ears boxed” by sitting at the wrong desk.
The French recitation proved to be a taking of stock, by Mademoiselle,
of her class’s stage of advancement, but it served, at the same time,
to fix in the minds of those who had not worked with her before, the
necessity of keeping eyes and ears open.
Early in the hour, she called on Arline Grant, a much be-curled young
lady, to give the rule under which a certain word preceded the verb in
a French sentence they were discussing.
Arline was silent.
“Class,” said Mademoiselle, “We will sing for Arline a little song that
we learned at the beginning of our first year in French. All together,
ready! First verse” (chanting): “Pronoun objects come before the verb!
Second verse: Pronoun objects come before the verb! Third verse:
Pronoun objects come before the verb! Chorus: Pronoun objects come
before the verb! Now, Arline, do you know the little rule, my pet?”
Arline gave it.
“Triumph No. 1!” Mademoiselle exclaimed brightly. “We have taught
Arline something!” Then she looked sharply at her book, and said in
a surprised tone, “I notice ‘mon amie’ printed in the next sentence!
‘Mon’--a masculine pronoun--when the ‘friend’ referred to is feminine.
A misprint, is it not? Scratch it out, everyone of you, and write the
feminine ‘ma’ in its place.”
The pupils obediently made the change.
“Class, rise,” Mademoiselle commanded, and the class rose.
“Now, all who scratched that out, sit down,” she continued, and
everyone except Jacquette sat down.
“My little Willard!” said Mademoiselle, in evident surprise. “What are
_you_ walking around here for?”
“Because I didn’t scratch it out,” Jacquette replied, blushing
furiously.
“And why not?” The deep dimples appeared in Mademoiselle’s cheeks.
“Because the pronoun ‘mon’ retains the masculine form before a feminine
noun beginning with a vowel or h mute,” Jacquette faltered, frightened
almost out of her voice at finding herself the only one who knew it.
“Excellent, dearie! I am charmed! You may be seated. And for the rest
of you--zero!” Mademoiselle pronounced, dramatically. “I don’t wonder
you look chagrined, my pets,” she added, “but you must remember that,
in Mademoiselle Dubois’s classes, it pays to keep your wits about you.”
“Well, Mademoiselle,” one of the boys protested, with a shamefaced
grin, “it’s mighty hard for us to keep track of all those little
things. Now, there’s another point bothers me; the same word has so
many different meanings in French. How are we going to tell them apart?”
“Honey, how can I _bear_ to have you ask me so many silly questions!”
Mademoiselle answered, instantly, folding her arms high on her chest
as she spoke. “Now, listen: There is a big--black--animal, with
long--fuzzy--hair, which our President loves to shoot--alas! Do you
know the two meanings I gave to the word ‘bear’ in that remark?”
“Why, y-yes,” Clarence stammered, “The way you used it shows.”
Mademoiselle suddenly waved her hand at him as one tosses farewell to a
baby. “Also in French, honey!” she told him, brightly.
All this was very entertaining to Jacquette, so much so that her
algebra class, which met in the next hour and was taught by the
dignified Mr. Pettingill, might have seemed dull except for the fact
that she sat next to Etta Brainerd, who wrote her note after note and
slipped them into her hand during the class period.
It seemed, Jacquette learned while Mr. Pettingill imagined he was
teaching her algebra, that the Kappa Deltas were extremely anxious to
get her into their sorority, on account of Margaret Howland’s former
friendship with her, and that they were planning to ask her to their
spread that afternoon. To outwit them, the Sigma Pi girls proposed to
put their colours--pale blue and gold--on Jacquette, even before her
Aunt Sula’s consent should come. In that way she could appear to be
already pledged to them, and could have a good reason for declining
the Kappa Delta’s invitation.
As soon as the half-hour for luncheon came, the Sigma Pi girls gathered
around Jacquette.
“We’re not asking you to sign the pledge without your guardian’s
permission, you understand, dear,” said Louise Markham, holding the
blue and gold ribbons in one hand and the enamelled pledge pin in the
other. “You simply promise, by wearing our colours this way, that if
you ever do go any sorority, it will be Sigma Pi.”
And the end of it was that, when a delegation of Kappa Deltas, headed
by Margaret Howland, came after Jacquette, a few minutes later, they
found her wearing the blue and gold.
“I’m dreadfully sorry we can’t be in the same sorority,” she told
Margaret, honestly, “but my cousin thinks----”
“That’s just why I want you to meet our girls,” Margaret argued. “Your
cousin isn’t giving you a chance to judge for yourself.”
“That will do, Margaret!” exclaimed Etta Brainerd, stepping out of the
close background, where she had been lingering to protect the Sigma Pi
“pledge.” “I hate to say anything, because I know Jacquette used to
think a great deal of you, but you know as well as anyone that it isn’t
honourable to try to get another sorority’s pledge to come to your
spreads.”
Then, without giving Jacquette time to do more than cast an apologetic
backward glance at Margaret, Etta carried her off out of harm’s way.
Marquis was delighted, that night, when he saw the Sigma Pi colours
pinned over Jacquette’s heart, and heard her story of the day.
“You did exactly right,” he told her. “It shows the Kappa Delts, once
for all, just where you stand, and another thing I like about it is
that it proves the Sigma Pi girls are dead anxious to get you. Oh,
you’re all right, fairy princess!”
And Jacquette glowed with pleasure at his words.
The hours dragged slowly for a few days, after that, in spite of all
the absorbing new happenings. It was because Aunt Sula’s answer was
being waited for, but it came, at last, and Jacquette waved it wildly
out of her bedroom window at Louise Markham, who happened to be passing.
“Louise! Louise! She says yes!” she cried, joyfully.
“Hurrah!” Louise called back. “I can’t stop, now, but I’m proper glad.
A delegation of us will be over to-night to pledge you, dear.”
Then Jacquette sat down alone and read Aunt Sula’s “yes” all through
again.
“About the girls’ club you speak of,” the letter said, “If it
really must be decided before I come, I am going to leave it to
you. You are almost a woman, now, and must begin to make your own
decisions.
“I am assuming, of course, that Uncle Mac and Aunt Fanny approve,
but, at the same time, I want you to use your own mind--not
theirs--in forming your opinion. Find out, definitely, about the
expense connected with it, and be sure, from all standpoints,
that you are not doing anything you may regret later.
“Loving you always,
“Tia.”