THE ENTERING WEDGE
Since Ruth Fielding had first met Helen Cameron--and that was on the
very day the former had come to the Red Mill--the two girls had never
had a cross word or really differed much on any subject. Ruth was the
more yielding of the two, perhaps, and it might be that that was why
Helen seemed so to expect her to yield now.
"Of course, Ruthie, we can't disappoint Miss Cox," she said, with
finality. "And after she was so kind to us, too."
"Are you sure she did all that out of simple kindness, Helen?" asked
the girl from the Red Mill, slowly.
"Why! what do you mean?"
"Aunt Alviry says one should never look a gift-horse in the mouth,"
laughed Ruth.
"What _do_ you mean?" demanded her chum.
"Why, Helen, doesn't it seem to you that Mary Cox came out deliberately
to meet us, and for the purpose of making us feel under obligation to
her?"
"For pity's sake, what for?"
"So that we would feel just as _you_ do--that we ought if possible to
attend the meeting of her society?"
"I declare, Ruth Fielding! How suspicious you have become all of a
sudden."
Ruth still laughed. But she said, too: "That is the way it has struck
me, Helen. And I wondered if you did not see her attention in the same
light, also."
"Why, she hasn't asked us to join the Upedes," said Helen.
"I know. And neither has Miss Steele----"
"You seem to have taken a great fancy to that Madge Steele,"
interrupted Helen, sharply.
"I think she is nice looking--and she was very polite," said Ruth,
quietly.
"Well, I don't care," cried Helen. "Miss Cox has shown us much more
kindness. And I promised for us, Ruth. I said we'd attend her club
this evening."
"Well," said her chum, slowly. "It _does_ look as though we would have
to go with Miss Cox, then. We'll tell Miss Steele----"
"I believe your head has been turned by that Madge Steele because she's
a Senior," declared Helen, laughing, yet not at all pleased with her
friend. "And the F. C.'s are probably a fussy crowd. All the teachers
belonging to the club too. I'd rather belong to the Upedes--a real
girls' club without any of the teachers to boss it."
Ruth laughed again; but there was no sting in what she said: "I guess
you have made up your mind already that the Up and Doing Club is the
one Helen Cameron wants to join."
"And the one Ruth Fielding must join, too!" declared Helen, in her old
winning way, slipping her arm through Ruth's arm. "We mustn't go
separate ways, Ruthie."
"Oh, Helen!" cried Ruth. "Don't talk like that. Of course we will
not. But let us be careful about our friendships here."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Ruth, smiling, "that we must be careful about joining
any crowd of girls until we know just how things are."
"Well," said Helen, dropping her arm and walking to the other end of
the room for no reason whatsoever, for she walked back again, in a
moment, "I don't see why you are so suspicious of Mary Cox."
"I don't know that I am," laughed Ruth. "But we have no means of
comparison yet----"
A mellow bell began to ring from some other building--probably in the
tower of the main building of Briarwood Hall.
"There!" ejaculated Helen, in some relief. "That must be to announce
supper."
"Are you ready, Helen?" asked Ruth.
"Yes."
"Then let us go."
There was a card on which were printed several simple rules of conduct
tacked to the door. The chums had read them. One was that rooms
should be left unlocked in the absence of the occupants, and Ruth and
Helen went out into the corridor, leaving their door open. There were
other girls in the passage then, all moving toward the stairway. Some
of them nodded kindly to the Infants. Others only stared.
Ruth saw Miss Steele in advance, and whispered to Helen:
"Come, dear; let us speak to her and tell her we cannot accept her
Invitation for this evening."
But Helen held back. "You can tell her if you like," she said, rather
sullenly.
"But, let us be nice about it," urged Ruth. "I'll tell her we
overlooked the fact that we were already engaged for the meeting of the
Up and Doing Club. I'll explain."
Helen suddenly seized her chum's arm more tightly. "You _are_ a good
little thing, Ruthie," she declared. "Come on."
They hurried after the Senior and caught up with her at the foot of the
stairs. She was not alone, but Ruth touched her arm and asked to speak
with her.
"What's the matter, Infants?" demanded the Senior, but smiling at them.
Helen flushed at the expression, but Ruth was too earnest in her
intention to smooth over the difficulty to notice so small a thing.
"Oh, Miss Steele," she said, "I am sorry to beg off from the kind
invitation you gave us. We cannot go with you this evening. It seems
that it was already understood with Miss Cox that we should go with
her."
"Oh!" exclaimed Madge Steele, a little stiffly, "you are already
pledged, then?"
"Yes, we are pledged to attend the meeting of the Up and Doing Club
this evening. It was very kind of Miss Cox to invite us," said Ruth,
calmly. "And it was kind of you to invite us to the F. C.'s, too. But
we cannot attend both meetings--not in one evening."
Madge Steele was looking at her earnestly and found that Ruth neither
dropped her gaze nor appeared confused by her scrutiny. Helen was the
one who seemed confused.
"It is not our usage to interfere with those who are pledged to other
school clubs," said Miss Steele, speaking distinctly. "I understand,
then, that you are _not_ pledged?"
"Only to attend this meeting as visitors of Miss Cox," said Ruth,
simply.
"Very well, then," said Madge Steele, her pleasant face breaking into a
smile again, "I shall hope to see you at some future meeting of the
Forward Club. Here we are on the campus. It is cool and shady here,
even in the hottest weather. We think it is a decidedly pleasant
place."
She walked beside them, conversing pleasantly. Helen recovered her
good temper and ventured a remark about the fountain which graced the
center of the campus. It was a huge marble figure of a sitting female,
in graceful draperies and with a harp, or lyre, on the figure's knee.
The clear water bubbled out all around the pedestal, and the statue and
bowl were sunk a little below the level of the greensward, like a small
Italian garden.
"What is the figure supposed to represent, Miss Steele?" asked Helen.
"You are allowed three guesses--and then you won't know," laughed the
Senior. "You can see by the stains and moss on it that the fountain
has been there a great many years. Long before Briarwood Hall was a
school. But it is supposed to represent either _Poesy_, or _Harmony_.
Nobody knows--not even Mrs. Tellingham."
The bell stopped tolling with three, sharp, jerky taps. Madge Steele
quickened her pace along the path and the newcomers followed her.
Other girls were pouring into the building nearest to the main
structure of Briarwood. A broad stairway led up to assembly rooms; but
out of the lower hall opened a large dining room, in which were ten or
twelve long tables, and at which the girls were already being seated by
some sort of system.
"I don't know where you will be seated," said Madge Steele, hastily.
"I am at the second Senior table. Here comes Miss Picolet. She will
attend to you Infants."
"Oh, it's the little French teacher," said Helen.
Ruth met the little lady with a smile. Miss Picolet nodded to them
both and put out her tiny hand. She really was no taller than Helen.
"I am glad, young ladies, to see you in such good company. Miss Steele
is well worth cultivating," she said. "Come this way. You will be
seated in the Junior division. It is probable that you will be placed
in that grade permanently. Mrs. Tellingham will see you in her office
in the next building immediately after supper."
Ruth and Helen followed the doll-like teacher to their seats. The girl
whom Mary Cox had called "Heavy" (and, indeed, it was a most
appropriate name) was already seated, and was right at Ruth's elbow.
"Oh, I hope they'll be seated soon," Ruth heard this over-plump girl
murmur. "This is cup-custard night, and I'm so-o hungry."
The tables were laid nicely. There were several waitresses, and
besides Miss Picolet, there were at least four other ladies whom Ruth
knew must be teachers. The hall was by no means filled. There were
not more than a hundred and fifty girls present. The door at the far
end opened and a handsome, white-haired, pink-cheeked lady entered.
She mounted a slightly raised platform and stood for a moment
overlooking the room.
"It's Mrs. Tellingham," whispered the fat girl to Ruth, seeing the
question in the latter's face.
The Preceptress was a really handsome lady--perhaps forty-five, perhaps
ten years older. Her perfectly white hair, thick and well arranged,
seemed to have been the result of something besides age. Here face was
quite free from any age-marks. There was a kind look in her eyes; a
humorous expression about her mouth. Helen leaned toward Ruth and
whispered:
"I know I shall just love her, Ruth--don't you?"
"And you won't be alone in that, Infant," said the girl on Helen's
other hand. "Now!"
Mrs. Tellingham raised her hand. The school arose and stood quietly
while she said grace. Another motion of the hand, and they sat down
again. The bustle of supper then began, with the girls talking and
laughing, the waitresses serving a plain, hot meal, and everybody in
apparent good-nature, and happy. Ruth could scarcely pay attention to
the food, however, she was so much more interested in these who were to
be her school-fellows.