THE VIGILANTES INITIATE
“Ad, ante, con, de, in, inter,—” recited Virginia. “Priscilla, do you
always remember the difference between gerunds and gerundives now
you’re a Junior?”
“Always remember! Why, I _never_ do! I think it’s a point of ignorance
to be proud of. It’s depressing to remember so many unvital things.
That’s one.”
Ten minutes’ silence, punctuated by Priscilla’s sighs over Cicero, and
Virginia’s whispered prepositions.
“The person who recommended Friday afternoon study hour must have been
very inhuman.”
“She was! ’Twas Greenie! We’re studying now in blessed memory of her!”
“I wonder where she is.”
“Oh, probably sitting on an Athenian rock-pile, and gazing at the
Acropolis! I’m glad it’s the Acropolis instead of me! Virginia, I
can’t study another second, and it isn’t three o’clock for fifteen
minutes. You haven’t shown me how you’ve changed the Constitution yet,
and we’re going to start at three. I don’t see but that we both have
to stop studying anyway, whether we choose to or not. We’ve just about
time to read it over.”
Virginia needed no urging. She closed the Latin Grammar, tore the
afghan and pillows from her couch, and burrowed under the bed-clothes
until she found what she sought—a somewhat rumpled piece of paper.
“This is the original, you know,” she said. “I’m keeping it for my
Memory Book, and I’ll make a copy for yours. I made the new one
different as we planned. I took out the ‘evil influence’ part, because
there isn’t any more need for that, and, of course, the names of those
we were especially guarding. I don’t think Dorothy and Vivian had best
know about that, do you? It might make them feel a little queer to
know we’d been watching them especially.”
“No, we won’t say anything about that part. They’re going to be one of
us now, and trying for the same thing. We’ll keep the real reason for
the founding of the order a secret, known to only the charter members.
I’ll never cease to be glad you thought of it, now that things have
come out the way they have. Isn’t it splendid about Dorothy’s grades?
Mary said to-day that if Dorothy gets _A’s_ in everything all the
quarter, the way she has ever since Easter, and every one else keeps
up as well, we’ll really have a chance of winning the cup from
Hathaway.”
“Vivian’s doing splendidly, too. Miss Wallace read her theme in class
to-day and complimented her, and Vivian looked so pleased. She’s so
quiet lately, and seems sad. I think she feels bad about Imogene.
Priscilla, do you really suppose that—?” Virginia’s voice was
mysteriously lowered.
“Yes, I do,” answered Priscilla in a whisper. “Of course, no one will
ever know; but I’m sure Imogene didn’t know her mother was coming, and
we all know Imogene wasn’t sick. Maybe Mary felt she ought to tell; or
maybe Miss Wallace knew more than we thought all along. St. Helen’s
always does things quietly; but I’ll always think that Imogene
was—expelled!”
“Maybe Vivian knows, and that’s why she feels so bad. And, besides,
it’s lonesome rooming all alone. I’ll read you the new Constitution,
and then we’ll go and get them both. Where shall we go?”
“Let’s choose the big rock just back of the Retreat, behind the pines.
No one goes there very often, and we can have it for our
meeting-place. Read on. It’s five minutes to three now.”
Virginia drew a less rumpled paper from her blouse pocket and read:
“We, the undersigned, on this 10th day of May, do hereby
announce that we are the sole members of the Order of
Vigilantes, a secret order founded on the 20th day of
January last by Priscilla Alden Winthrop and Virginia
Webster Hunter. We take our name from the Vigilantes of
the West—those brave men, who in the early days of our
Western States, bound themselves together in the endeavor
to stand for fair play, and to preserve law and order.
Like them, we hereby determine and promise to stand at all
times for fair play and true friendship; and to help one
another in every way we can to live up to the principles
of our order. As stated above, we are the only real
Vigilantes, though the existence of the order is known to
Mary Williams, who is our adviser, when we need assistance.”
“Now, we’ll sign our names, Priscilla, and I’ll take my fountain pen
so that they can sign on the rock. Come on. It’s after three now.”
They went into the hall where they met Dorothy, who had agreed to keep
the mysterious appointment with them at three o’clock, and together
they went to get Vivian. But no response came to their knocking.
“That’s queer. She can’t be asleep. She said she’d be ready.”
They knocked again—louder this time. Still there was no answer. Then
they tried the door, and to their surprise found it locked.
“Why, where can she be? You don’t suppose she’s sick or something, do
you?” asked Priscilla. “She wouldn’t lock the door if she went out.
Let’s go around the porch and look in the windows.”
They went into their room, and through the French windows on to the
porch, Dorothy following. When they reached Vivian’s room, they found
the curtains lowered, though the windows were not locked. By dint of a
good deal of prying, they raised the screens, windows and curtains,
and stepped into the room. Then they stood and stared at one another
in amazement. Vivian’s trunk stood, packed, tagged, and locked in the
middle of the floor; her pictures, posters, pennants, and other wall
decorations had disappeared, as had the toilet articles from the
dresser; only the pillow-laden couch stood as before, though its
afghan and pillows bore tags, on each of which was written, “For any
one who wants it.”
“Why, why, she’s gone!” gasped Virginia, the first to speak. “Oh, we
must stop her! What shall we do? Somebody think—quick!”
But in their sudden and complete surprise, thinking quickly was an
utter impossibility. They probably would have remained staring at one
another while precious time was hastening on, had not Priscilla’s
eyes, roving distractedly about the dismantled room, fallen upon an
envelope on the top of the closed and locked desk.
“It’s for you, Virginia,” she cried, passing the envelope to her
room-mate. “Oh, read it, quick!”
Virginia lost no time in tearing open the envelope and unfolding the
paper within.
‘Dear Virginia,’ she read in a trembling voice to those who
listened, ‘I know you’ll all think I’m sillier than ever, but
I can’t stand being miserable any longer. You’ve all been good
to me, especially you, and I’ll never, _never_, _never_ forget
it, so long as I live! You’re the best friend I ever had. (A
sob from Dorothy.) But it is very hard to hate yourself every
minute; and, besides, I can’t forget what Imogene said to me
when she went away. So I’m going home, and maybe next year
when people have forgotten my silliness, Miss King will let me
come back. Perhaps, I’ll be different then, but I can’t
promise; and maybe, after all, she won’t let me come back,
when she knows I’ve run away.
“Vivian.
“‘P. S. Please tell Miss Wallace I’m sorry I deceived her
by telling her I had a headache, and asking if I could
study in the woods. I did have a headache; and there wasn’t
any other way I could get the train without somebody finding
out.’—V. E. W.’”
Still they stood in poor, discouraged Vivian’s deserted room, and
looked at one another. Virginia’s face was sad from sympathy,
Priscilla looked puzzled and thoughtful, Dorothy was crying.
“Oh, it’s my fault,” she sobbed. “I ought to have gone away along with
Imogene! I haven’t been a friend to Vivian, and now I’ll never have a
chance!”
“Yes, you will, too,” cried Priscilla, coming out of her reverie,
“because she can’t take the train after all. There isn’t any three
o’clock. It’s been taken off. Miss Wallace told me so yesterday, when
she was thinking of going away for over Sunday. The next one doesn’t
go till five, and if Vivian’s anywhere around, we’ll find her and
bring her back. Let’s not say a word to any one, but just hunt till we
find her. The door’s locked and we can draw the curtains, and no one
will ever know.”
Without wasting any precious moments they hurried out the way they had
entered, drawing the curtains before closing the windows and screens,
ran down-stairs and across the campus to the road, running the
gauntlet of all who called to them by maintaining a discreet and
somewhat exclusive silence. At the top of the hill, Priscilla reviewed
her forces.
“Let’s each take a different direction. She’s around the woods
somewhere, because she wouldn’t dare stay around Hillcrest for fear of
meeting the girls, and there aren’t any woods the other side of the
village. I’ll go north of the campus, and Dorothy, you take the
Retreat woods, and Virginia, you cross the road by the gates, and go
through those pastures there, and you might look by the birch tree,
though she’s not likely to be there. And let’s all remember that if
any girl tries to join us, we’re to treat her abominably, so she’ll
know she isn’t wanted. It’s mean, but there’s no other way to do,
because Vivian’ll never come back if she thinks any one else knows.
Whoever finds her first, will give three loud calls in quick
succession; and if by any chance we don’t any of us find her, we’re
all to meet at the station for the five o’clock. But I know we’ll be
successful.”
They started, each in the direction signified; and while they hurried
through the woods, thinking only of Vivian, and of how if they ever
found her, they would make her so happy she would forget all that had
passed, the object of their thought and search crouched on the top of
the big rock back of the Retreat, and hoped that the surrounding trees
hid her quite from sight.
When the station agent half an hour ago had told her there was no
train before five o’clock, her heart had sunk. What should she do? She
could not linger around Hillcrest, for she was sure of meeting some of
the girls. There was no place in which to hide near the village; and
to walk to the nearest town ten miles away and take the train from
there was out of the question. There seemed nothing to do but to
retrace her steps toward St. Helen’s, and hide in the woods until time
for the next train. Then she must trust to luck, and run the risk of
meeting the girls. Meanwhile, there was no time to lose. It was
fifteen minutes to three already, and in half an hour the girls would
be through with study hour and out-of-doors.
She hurried, up the village street, and out upon the country road,
still in her sweater and little school hat. Her mother would doubtless
be surprised to see her dressed that way, she thought to herself as
she ran. She would wire her from Springfield. Yes, she would be
surprised, but when she had heard the whole story, she would pity
Vivian and welcome her home. And her father would probably laugh at
her, call her a silly little girl, and then engage a tutor for her. It
would not be easy to tell them, and might be very hard to make them
understand; but she could bear that more easily than to stay at St.
Helen’s with the remembrance of Imogene’s words in her ears.
Out of breath, she sat down by the roadside to rest for a few minutes.
No, she could never forget Imogene’s words! She saw her dressed ready
to go, remembered how she had risen to kiss her, and how, instead of
kissing her, Imogene had said, “Of course, you realize, Vivian, if you
hadn’t been such a little fool, and Dorothy such a coward, I wouldn’t
be going away like this!”
So they had really sent Imogene away—_expelled_ her! And Imogene had
said that she was to blame, had gone without kissing her, had never
written her in all that long week! No, it was all too much to be
borne! Besides, it did not matter how good the girls had been to her
since the evening when Virginia had rescued her from the carrying out
of her foolish plan, she felt sure that in their hearts they despised
her for having been so weak and so easily influenced. And now she
could never show them that she meant to be different! Even Virginia
and Priscilla whom she so dearly loved would never know! But she saw
no other way.
Rising, she hurried on. The school clock struck three. She dashed
through the gates and into the woods by the Retreat. In a few minutes
the girls would be passing along the road, and she was in danger of
being seen. Looking around for a hiding-place, she espied the big rock
back of the Retreat, the very rock which the Vigilantes had chosen for
their initiation ceremonies. A great pine which grew close by overhung
it with wide-spreading, feathery branches. Vivian hastily climbed upon
the rock, and, crawling in among the pine branches, was quite
concealed from the sight of all except the most careful observer.
It was but a few moments before she heard voices—on the meadow, in the
road, even in the very woods about her. Study hour was over, and the
girls were free. Well, if by any chance they drew near her place of
concealment, she could take her Caesar from her pocket and begin to
study. That would tend to dispel suspicion. How jolly and merry they
sounded! She could hear Bess Shepard’s laugh, and some lusty shouts,
which, of course, came from the Blackmore twins. She had had lovely
times at St. Helen’s. Of course even now, she might—but no, it was too
late! Without doubt, by now some one had discovered her room, and
everybody would know!
A loud crackling of twigs sounded to the right. Some one was coming in
her direction—yes, some one in a red sweater, for she could
distinguish that color through the thicket. She crouched lower under
the pine branches. Then, seeing that it was of no use to hide, for the
sweater was unmistakably coming through the bushes, she sat up-right
with a beating heart and drew Caesar from her pocket—just as Dorothy
broke through the last blackberry bush and saw her on the rock. And
though she tried her utmost to gaze at Caesar, she just couldn’t help
seeing the joy and gladness that swept over Dorothy’s anxious face.
“Oh, Vivian!” she cried. “Oh, Vivian! I’ve found you, and I’m so glad!
And you’re going to forgive me, and give me another chance to be your
friend, aren’t you? Oh, say you’re not going away!”
In another moment Dorothy was on the rock beside her, and poor Caesar
had fallen into a rose-bush, where he lay forgotten. The five o’clock
train was forgotten, too; for as Vivian sat there with Dorothy’s arms
around her, she knew she wouldn’t do anything else in the world but go
back and begin all over again.
“My!” said Dorothy, after they had talked everything over for the
third time at least. “My! I forgot to give the signal, and Priscilla
and Virginia are very likely half-dead from fright by now!”
She gave the three short calls agreed upon, which were immediately
answered; and in less than five minutes the two Vigilantes, very much
alive and very, very happy, were also sitting on the very rock chosen
but two hours before. Then, after all the crooked things had been made
straight, after the world seemed beautiful again, and friendship
sweeter than before—then, with the ceremony befitting its importance,
the Vigilante Order was explained in full to the chosen initiates, and
its purpose made plain. With serious faces they signed their names,
Vivian Evelyn Winters
Dorothy Richards
below the signatures of the charter members.
“Everything’s over now,” said the real originator of the order with a
happy little sigh, as she folded the Constitution and placed it in her
pocket. “Everything’s over, and in another way, everything nicest is
just beginning. There’s certainly strength in numbers, and we’ll all
help one another to be real Vigilantes.”
“We ought to have a watchword,” proposed Priscilla. “I was thinking of
one when I heard Dorothy call. Do you think ‘Ever Vigilant’ is any
good?”
They all thought it just the thing.
“And I’ve been, wondering just this minute,” said Dorothy, “about
something else; but I’m a new member, and if you don’t like my plan, I
hope you’ll say so. I was thinking about having an emblem. Most orders
do, you know. Don’t you think it-would be rather nice to have the
hepatica, and have it stand for what Miss King said—sending our
rootlets into good soil? You see, I thought of it because—well,
because I’ve felt so ashamed of—of the way my rootlets have been
growing, and lately I’ve—I’ve been trying—” She hesitated,
embarrassed.
Virginia had listened, her eyes growing brighter every moment.
“I think it’s a perfectly lovely idea, Dorothy,” she said, while
Priscilla and Vivian nodded their approval. “And I’ve a secret just
born—a lovely, lovely one—and it’s going to happen before very long!
It just came with your thought of the hepatica!”
The others were properly mystified, but the owner of the secret would
divulge nothing; and half an hour later, Caesar, having been rescued
from the rose-bush, the four Vigilantes went home to help Vivian
unpack.