PEERS AND COMMONS
Along the hall down which Dorothy followed the Lady Principal were
many doors opening into small class rooms. Each class was under its
especial teacher, its number being limited to ten students. It was the
policy of the school that by this division better instruction could be
given each pupil, and Dorothy wondered to which of these groups--if
any--she would be assigned. Another hall and other class rooms joined
the first and longer one, at a right angle, and here Miss Muriel
paused, directing:
"Proceed down this corridor till you reach the parlor at its end.
There you will find Miss Hexam awaiting you. She will test your
scholarship and report to me. Do not fail to answer her questions
promptly and distinctly. I observe that you do not enunciate well. You
slur some of your words and clip the endings from your participles. To
say 'hopin'' or 'runnin'' is execrable. Also, there is no such word as
'daown' or 'araoun'.'"
Dorothy's temper rose. She had done nothing right, it seemed, since
she had arrived at this "school for criticism," as she termed it, and
now said pertly:
"I reckon that's the Southern way of talking. I noticed that the
Bishop didn't bother about his 'gs' and he had the same twang that all
do down home. He must have lived there a right smart time when he was
little."
"Many things are permissible in a cultured old gentleman which are
not in an ignorant and forward girl. You came here for your own
improvement. I shall see that you attain it; or, if you fail in this
after a reasonable trial, you cannot be retained. That rule is plainly
stated in our circular. I will bid you good morning until I send for
you."
Poor Dorothy fairly withered under this sternness that she felt was
unjust, but she felt, also, that she had been impertinent, and running
after Miss Muriel, as she moved away, she caught the lady's sleeve,
imploring:
"Please don't think I'm all bad, Miss Tross-Kingdon! I've been
heedless and saucy, but I didn't mean it--not for badness. Please wait
and try me and I _will_ 'improve,' as you said. Please, please! It
would break Aunt Betty's heart if she thought I wasn't good and--and
I'm so unhappy! Please forgive me."
The dark eyes, lifted so appealingly, filled with tears which their
owner bravely restrained, and the Lady Principal was touched by this
self-control. Also, under all her sternness, she was just.
"Certainly, Dorothy, your apology is sufficient. Now go at once to
Miss Hexam and do yourself credit. If you have studied music, another
person will examine you in that."
Impulsively Dorothy caught the lady's hand and kissed it; and,
fortunately, did not observe that dainty person wipe off the caress
with her handkerchief.
Then summoning her courage, the new pupil hurried to the end parlor
and entered it as she had been taught. But the "den of inquisition,"
as some of the girls had named it, proved anything but that to
Dorothy.
"The Inquisitor" was a lovely, white-haired woman, clothed in soft
white wool, and smiling so gently toward the trembling girl that all
fear instantly left her.
"So this is Dorothy Calvert, our little maid from Dixie. You'll find a
wide difference between your Southland and our Province, but I hope
you'll find the change a pleasant one. Take this chair before the
fire. You'll find it comfortable. I love these autumn days, when a
blazing log can keep us warm. It's so fragrant and cheerful and far
more romantic than a coil of steam pipe. Have a biscuit, dear?"
Miss Hexam motioned to a low wicker chair, which some girls had
declared a "chair of torture," but which suited Dorothy exactly, for
it was own mate to her own little reading chair "at home." Almost she
could have kissed it for its likeness, but was allowed no time for
foolishness. The homely little treat of the simple crackers banished
all shyness and the dreaded "exam" proved really but a social visit,
the girl not dreaming that under this friendly talk was a careful
probing of her own character and attainments. Nor did she understand
just then how greatly her answers pleased the gentle "Inquisitor."
"You want me to 'begin at the beginning'? Why, that's a long way back,
when I was a mere midget. A baby only a year and a half old. Papa and
mamma died away out west, but, of course, I didn't know that then. I
didn't know anything, I reckon, except how to make Mother Martha
trouble. My father was Aunt Betty's nephew and she didn't like his
marrying mamma. I don't know why; only Ephraim says 'Miss Betty was
allays full o' notions same's a aig's full o' meat.' Ephy's Aunt
Betty's 'boy,' about as old as she is--something over eighty. Nobody
knows just auntie's real age, except Ephraim and Dinah. They've lived
with her always and treat her now just as if she were a child. It's
too funny for words, sometimes, to hear the three of them argue over
some thing or trifle. She'll let them go a certain length; then all at
once she'll put on her dignity and they fairly begin to tremble. She's
mistress then and they're her servants, but I do believe either one
would die to prolong her life. Dinah says: ''Pears lak death an' dyin'
nebah gwine come nigh my Miss Betty Calvert.' And she's just right.
Everybody thinks my darling aunt is the sweetest, most wonderful woman
in the world. But I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to talk so much and
hinder your examination."
"Oh! that is all right. I love to hear your story that you've left off
at its beginning. You're only a 'baby' so far, you know."
"Well, if you like. When my father died, my mother felt that she would
die, too, and she couldn't bear to leave me alone. So she just sent me
to Aunt Betty. But she felt, auntie did, that she couldn't be bothered
with a 'squalling baby,' nor could she cast me off, really. 'Cause she
was my real great-aunt and my nearest relation and was rich enough to
do what she liked in a money way. Besides, she wanted me to be raised
real sensible. So she picked out a splendid couple she knew and had me
left on their doorstep. She had pinned to my clothes that my name was
'Dorothy C.' Their name began with 'C,' too, so they guessed I was
meant for them to keep, because they hadn't any other child. What a
lot I'm talking! Do you want to hear any more? Won't the Lady
Principal be angry if I don't get examined?"
"I will make that all right, Dorothy, and I am greatly interested.
It's 'like a story out of a book,' as the Minims say. Go on, please."
"Well, these dear people took care of me till I was a real big girl. I
love them dearly. He was a postman and he walked too much. So he had
to lose his position with lameness and he's never gotten over it,
though he's better now. He has a position in a sanitarium for other
lame folks and Mother Martha is the housekeeper, or matron, there.
Uncle Seth Winters, who knows so much that he is called the 'Learned
Blacksmith,' is my guardian. He and Aunt Betty have been dearest
friends ever since they were little. They call each other cousin,
though they're no kin at all, any more than he's my uncle. He was my
first teacher at his 'school in the woods,' but felt I ought to go to
a school for girls. So I went to the Rhinelander Academy and he stayed
at his smithy on the mountain, near Mother Martha's little farm and
Aunt Betty's big one, and one vacation auntie told me who I was and
took me home to live with her; and she liked Oak Knowe because the
Bishop is her lifelong friend. She has had my name on the list waiting
for a vacancy for a long, long time; so it's a terrible pity I should
have been horrid, and offended the Lady Principal."
"Let us hope she is not seriously offended, dear, nor have you told me
what the offense is. But bear in mind, Dorothy, that she is at the
head of a great and famous institution and must strictly live up to
its standards and keep her pupils to their duty. But she is absolutely
just, as you will learn in time.
"I feel like hearing music, to-day, but get very little. All our
practice rooms are sound-deadened. Do you play at all, on any
instrument, or sing?"
"A little of both, when I'm at home. Not well in either, though Aunt
Betty loves my violin and my little songs. If I had it here, I would
try for you, if you'd like. But it's in my trunk, my 'box,' Mr. Gilpin
called it."
Miss Hexam smiled and, opening a little secretary, took out an old
Cremona, explaining:
"This was my brother's, who died when I was young. He was a master of
it, had many pupils. I allow few to touch it, but I'd be pleased to
have you, if you would like."
"Would you? May I?" asked Dorothy, handling it reverently for its
sacredness to this loving old sister. And, after she had tuned it, as
reverently for its own sake. It was a rare old instrument of sweetest
tone and almost unconsciously Dorothy tried one theme after another
upon it while Miss Hexam leaned back in her chair listening and
motionless.
Into that playing the young musician put all the love and homesickness
of her own heart. It seemed as if she were back at Deerhurst, with the
Great Danes lying on the rug at her feet and dear Aunt Betty resting
before the fire. Then, when memory threatened to bring the tears she
was determined should not fall, she stopped, laid the violin silently
upon the table and slipped out of the room, leaving Miss Hexam still
motionless in her chair.
But she would have been surprised had she looked back into the
"inquisition chamber" a few moments later to see the "inquisitor"
arouse, seize a sheet of paper and rapidly write a few lines upon it.
But the few lines were important. They gave a synopsis of Dorothy's
scholarship and accomplishments, and unerringly assigned her to "Form
IVb, class of Miss Aldrich."
The "terrible exam" was over and Dorothy hadn't known a thing about
it!
Outside that little parlor another surprise awaited her. A crowd of
girls was racing madly down the hall, the foremost looking backward as
she ran and roughly colliding with Dorothy; with the result that both
fell; while the others, following in such speed, were unable to check
in time to prevent their tumbling over the first pair. Then such
shrieks of laughter rang out that the teachers in the nearby
classrooms came to their doors in haste.
Even they were obliged to smile over the heap of girls and the tangle
of legs and arms as the fallen ones strove to extricate themselves.
They were all in gymnasium-costume and were bound for a side door of
the building which led by a short cut to the gymnasium in the Annex.
This was Dorothy's introduction to the "Commons," the largest and
wildest "set" in the great school. They were all daughters of good
families but of no "rank" or titles; and there was an abiding
opposition among them to the "Peers," the smaller "set" of aristocrats
to which the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard and Lady Marjorie
Lancaster belonged. Mostly the "Commons" were a rollicking company,
going to the extreme limits of behavior where any fun promised to
follow, yet mostly keeping just safely within rules. Their escapades
kept the faculty in considerable anxiety as to what they would do
next, yet their very gayety was the life of Oak Knowe and even the
Lady Principal was secretly fonder of them than of the more dignified
"Peers."
As they now scrambled to their feet, she who had run against Dorothy
heartily apologized, yet paused half-way in that apology to stare and
remark:
"Why, heigho, there! I thought you were a Minim, you're so little.
But I fancy you're a newcomer whom I don't know. Please explain; are
you 'Peer' or 'Lower House'?"
Dorothy laughed:
"'Lower House,' I thought when you knocked me down, whatever that may
be."
"It means--is your father an Earl? or your mother a Duchess? Have you
an Honorable amongst you? You hold your curly head as if you might
have all three!"
All the girls had now gathered about the stranger whom their leader
was so unceremoniously quizzing and were eagerly inspecting her, but
somehow Dorothy did not resent the scrutiny. There were big girls and
little ones, fat girls and thin ones, plain and pretty, but each so
good-natured looking and so friendly in her curiosity that Dolly's own
spirits rose in response to their liveliness.
"No, indeed! I'm just a plain American girl and prouder of that than
of any title in the world. You see, all of _us_ are queens in our own
right!" answered the newcomer, promptly.
"Well, come on then; you belong to us and we all belong to the queen.
Queen, what shall we call you? Where do you hail from?"
"My home is in Baltimore, and my name is Dorothy Calvert."
"Then you must be a sort of 'Peer' after all. I hate history, but I
remember about that, for Lord Baltimore and Calvert are the same
thing, I fancy. I'm sorry. I hoped you belonged to our 'set' and
weren't an aristocrat."
"But I'm not, I'm not!" protested Dorothy. "I do belong to you, I want
to because you look so friendly and I need friends dreadfully. I'm so
lonely, or I was. I've just come, you know."
"Have you been 'inquisitioned' yet?"
"I don't understand."
The questioner explained, and Dorothy exclaimed:
"Oh! I think that's cruel! Miss Hexam is perfectly lovely!"
"So do we think, course, and she doesn't mind the nickname. It was
first given her by a silly Seventh Form girl who thought she was all
ready for the University yet failed to pass even a Fifth Form exam. I
guess you'll not be put to study to-day, so best come over to the gym
with us. What stunts can you do?"
"None. But I've told you my name and you haven't told yours. Thank
you, though, for asking me. I'm so glad to go."
"Oh! you poor little lonesome Queen Baltimore! I'm Winifred Christie;
this freckle face is Fannie Dimock; Annie Dow wears that blue bow in
her hair; Florita Sheraton is the fat one; Ernesta Smith the thin;
Bessie Walters--well, no need to point out Bessie. She's the nimblest
girl in the gym. We here extend the freedom of the Lower House; and
all in favor of grabbing this Yankee into our set before the other set
catches her, say--Aye!"
"Aye--aye--aye!" endorsed the motion and Dorothy clapped her hands
over her ears, to keep out the ear-splitting shouts. How these girls
dared make such an uproar amazed her; but she did not yet know that in
the "long recess," now passing, much liberty was permitted and that a
noise which did not interfere with study hours was not reprimanded.
"It's the overflow of natural spirits and inevitable in the young,"
was one of the Bishop's beliefs, and not even the Lady Principal
disputed his authority.
"Come on, Queenie, and be put through your paces!" cried Winifred,
throwing her arm around Dorothy's shoulders and forcibly racing her
out of doors and across the lawn toward the gymnasium.
But arrived there only one or two of the group attempted any exercise.
The rest settled around Dorothy, whom the athletic Winifred had tossed
upward upon the back of the wooden horse, and, with her arms folded
upon the newcomer's knees, this leader of the "Commons" proceeded to
cross-question her victim.
[Illustration: "PROCEEDED TO CROSS-QUESTION HER VICTIM." _Dorothy at
Oak Knowe._]
"It's the cast-iron rule of our set to find out everything about
anybody we receive into it. Begin at the date of your birth and
proceed in a seemly manner until you come up to date. Where were you
born? What sort of baby were you--good, bad, or indifferent? Begin!"
Entering into the spirit of the thing Dorothy gave her simple life
history in a few sentences. But when the questions came as to the
events of the last few days her face grew serious and her voice
faltered.
"Why did I come to Oak Knowe alone? Because there was nobody to come
with me. That is, Dinah or Ephraim, who might have come, couldn't be
trusted to go back alone. My dearest girl friend, Molly Breckenridge,
had been enrolled here and we expected to come together, but the
Judge's health suddenly broke down and he was ordered to California
and couldn't part with her. Uncle Seth wasn't well. He's my guardian
and Aunt Betty's friend. She's my great aunt who takes care of me but
she wouldn't leave Uncle Seth, even if he's not our kin at all, though
we call him so. Jim Barlow is tutoring in a boys' school and; well,
Aunt Betty said I could perfectly well and safely travel alone. I was
put into the conductor's care when I started from Baltimore and he
passed me along to the next one, and they've all been splendid to me.
There'd have been no mistakes if I hadn't been careless myself. But I
was. I missed a train I should have taken and didn't send the telegram
I ought at the right time and there was nobody at the station to meet
me and--and--"
"The idea! A girl like you, traveling all the way from Baltimore to
Toronto without a maid or any grown-up to take care of her! That's the
strangest thing I ever heard. Weren't you just awfully scared all the
time?" asked Florita Sheraton, amazed. "An English girl would have
been in a blue funk every minute of the time."
"I don't know anything about a blue or other colored funk, but every
well-bred American girl can take care of herself if she chooses. If
she 'loses her head' she gets into trouble right away. I lost mine
last night and went riding off at dark with a strange old man, who
said he'd bring me here, instead of stepping into the telegraph office
and wiring the Lady Principal. Then all I'd have had to do would be to
wait for her to send for me, and after all it wasn't the old man who
brought me, it was Dr. Winston in his motor. He called here this
morning and asked me to ride back with him and see Robin, but Miss
Tross-Kingdon wouldn't let me."
"Course she wouldn't. She never lets anybody do anything she wants
to, if she can help it. Hateful old thing!" remarked Bessie Walters;
at which the others laughed and Annie Dow inquired, "Who is Robin?"
Dorothy told the story of last night, her new acquaintances listening
intently, and Winifred commenting:
"If you aren't the very luckiest girl in the world! Why I never had an
adventure in my life, yet I'm ages older than you."
At this a shout of derision rose, and Fannie Dimock exclaimed:
"Don't believe that, Queen Baltimore. There's scarcely a day passes
that she isn't in some scrape or other. Why, last term, she was in
disgrace so often I really believed she wouldn't be allowed to come
back."
"Oh! little things like that don't count. But--" she stopped speaking
so abruptly and such an earnest expression settled on her face that a
mate remarked:
"Look! There's something brewing this minute! Look out, Win, what you
do! Don't mix any of us up in your schemes. I don't want any more
extras so soon again;" then explained to Dorothy that "extras" were
some difficult lessons any culprit was obliged to learn.
Just then came the bell for mid-day luncheon, and all the Commons
except Winifred answered the summons promptly. But she lingered
behind, detaining Dorothy till the others were out of hearing, and
then suggested something to her which made her clap her hands in
delight. For the secret thus imparted seemed the simplest thing
possible and one in which, to Dolly's ignorance of Oak Knowe rules,
was entirely right.
Arm in arm, the new friends entered the dining-room and Winifred
marched Dorothy steadily forward to a seat at her own table, just
opposite that occupied by some of the other "set," with the Honorable
Gwendolyn among them. Dolly glanced across and nodded, but that titled
young person returned the nod with a stare so intent and contemptuous
that the color flashed to the stranger's face and her eyes fell as if
she were in guilt. Yet she couldn't guess why, nor why she should be
relieved when there arose a sudden diversion outside the doorway
toward which everybody turned their eyes.