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.