BETTER TIMES
It was seldom that Madame Schakael seemed so stern as on this occasion.
She perched herself upon her cushioned chair behind the desk table in
her inner office, while the three girls--the senior and the two
freshmen--lined up before her.
"Now, Corinne, tell me all about it," was her command to the older girl.
"I am not sure that I _can_ tell you all, Madame," said Corinne, slowly.
"For I did not hear it all."
But the black-eyed Cora was getting back her courage now, and she
suddenly burst out:
"_I_ can tell you, Madame!"
"Perhaps--as it was your voice which I first heard--you had better tell
me your side of it, Miss Rathmore," agreed the principal.
"There's only one side to it, Madame!" exclaimed Cora. "I was just
telling those girls--and Miss Pevay, who interfered----"
"Corinne is the captain of the West Side. You belong on the West Side.
By no possibility could your captain have interfered if you chose the
public hall for any discussion," said the Madame, with sudden sharpness.
"I want all you freshmen to understand that: The school captains must be
respected and obeyed."
"Well--I--I didn't mean to be disrespectful," murmured Cora, suddenly
abashed.
"Perhaps not. But, Miss Rathmore, I fancy you will have to watch
yourself closely to correct a tendency in that direction," observed the
Madame, drily. "Now, you may continue your statement."
Cora was quite put out for the moment. She had taken her first plunge
into the matter, had been brought up short, and now scarcely knew how to
carry on the attack on Nancy which had seemed so easy the minute before.
"Well--well--I--I----"
"Why do you stammer so, Miss Rathmore?" asked the principal. "Is it a
fact that that which seemed so desirable to say just now appears to you
in another light when you have taken time to think it over?"
Stung by this suggestion Cora threw all caution to the winds. Her black
eyes flashed once more. She even stamped her foot as she pointed her
finger at Nancy.
"I tell you what it is, Madame Schakael!" she cried. "I won't stay in
the same dormitory with that girl another day. If you make me I'll write
home to my mother."
"And your reasons?" asked Madame Schakael, quite calmly.
"She is a perfect nobody!" gasped Cora. "She came here from a charity
school. She's never lived anywhere else but at that school. She doesn't
know a living thing about herself--who she is, what her folks were, why
they abandoned her----"
Possibly Madame Schakael said something. But, if so, neither of the
three heard what it was. Yet Cora suddenly stopped in her
tirade--stricken dumb by the expression on the principal's countenance.
The little lady's face was ablaze with emotion. She raised a warning
hand and it seemed as though, for a moment, she could not herself speak.
"Girl! Who has dared tell you such perfectly ridiculous things? What is
the meaning of this wrangle in Pinewood Hall? I am amazed--perfectly
amazed--that a girl under my charge should express herself so cruelly
and rudely, as well as in so nonsensical a manner.
"To put you right, first of all, Miss Rathmore, Miss Nelson's position
in life is entirely different from what you seem to suspect. She is an
orphan. I understand; but Mr. Henry Gordon has a careful oversight of
her welfare, and he pays for her education out of funds in his hands for
that purpose, and I am instructed to let her want for nothing. She is
not at all the friendless object of charity that you have evidently been
led to believe.
"The Higbee Endowment School in which Miss Nelson has been educated is
by no means a charitable institution. It is a much better school than
the one in which you were taught previous to coming to Pinewood, Miss
Rathmore; I can accept pupils from Higbee into my freshman classes
without any special preparation.
"I had no idea that girls under my charge would be so cruel as you seem
to be toward Nancy Nelson. Corinne! what does it mean?"
"I'm afraid I have let it go too far, Madame," responded the senior,
gravely. "But you know, these freshmen have got to learn to fight their
own battles. _I_ had to when I came."
"Yes, yes; that is all right," said the principal, waving her hand. "But
remember, Corinne, I mentioned to you when Nancy Nelson came that she
was one of the sensitive kind."
"And for that very reason the sensitive girls are hard to shake into
their places," declared the captain of the West Side. "And then, she
roomed with Cora, here, and I thought she was one of that crowd."
"I guess my crowd is just as good as yours!" ejaculated Cora, plucking
up the remnants of her courage.
"In my opinion, Madame Schakael," continued Corinne, ignoring Cora, "I'd
give this Rathmore girl another roommate. It would be a kindness to
Nancy."
At the moment Jennie Bruce entered with more abruptness than good
manners. But Jennie was excited.
"Oh, Madame Schakael! don't punish her any more!" she cried, running to
Nancy and throwing her arms about her.
Necessarily she dropped the bag. The Madame pointed to it.
"What is this, Miss Bruce?" she demanded.
"Let me tell you!" cried Jennie. "That's what I came in for, Madame.
These horrid girls--Rathmore and her tribe--have just hounded Nancy so
that she wanted to run away."
"Run away?" gasped the principal. "From Pinewood?"
"Yes, Madame! But then she remembered she was on honor to stay indoors;
so even after throwing her bag out of the window, she gave up the
intention. And let me tell you," added Jennie, storming with anger, "if
this stuck-up, silly Cora Rathmore doesn't want to room with Nancy, I
do!"
The excited girl turned to the sobbing Nancy and took her in her arms
again.
"Don't you mind what the others say to you, Nance!" she cried. "I'll
stick to you, you bet! And maybe some time we can solve the mystery,"
she added, in a whisper, "and find out who you are. _Then_ we'll make
'em all sorry they treated you so," for it seemed to be a foregone
conclusion with Jennie that Nancy would prove to be a very great person
indeed if her identity were once discovered.
"Dear, dear me!" exclaimed Madame Schakael, softly. But she really
smiled upon the excited Jennie. "I shall have to write to your mother,
Miss Bruce, after all, that you seem hopeless. You never _will_ be able
to restrain those over-abundant spirits of yours.
"But, my dear, I shall never have to tell that you are unkind. You have
solved this little problem, I believe. It would be undeserved punishment
to keep Miss Nelson in the room with Miss Rathmore any longer. In fact,
I believe that the punishment meted out to Miss Nelson already, and by
myself, has been too heavy.
"Two things shall be changed; Nancy Nelson is released from the order
to remain indoors in recreation hours. Furthermore, she shall have a new
roommate."
She turned suddenly to the sullen Cora.
"Miss Rathmore! You have revealed yourself to us all in a light which,
to say the least, is not a happy one. I will remove you from Number 30,
West Side. Indeed, it would be an imposition upon Miss Nelson to keep
you there. How do you suppose your present chum in Number 40 would
welcome Miss Rathmore, Jennie?" she added.
"Oh, I don't know," replied Jennie, her eyes twinkling. "Sally is one of
Cora's crowd; but I haven't anything against Sally, so I wouldn't wish
Cora on her."
"That will do! that will do, Jennie! I did not ask you to be quite so
frank," said the Madame, quickly. "What do you say, Corinne?"
"It's a good idea, Madame," returned the captain, with a sigh.
"Very well, then; because Miss Nelson deserves a more pleasant and
agreeable roommate, you may change places with Jennie Bruce, Miss
Rathmore."
"I don't care how you put it, Madame!" exclaimed Cora, with a toss of
her head. "I am glad to get out of Number 30. And, however you may put
it, Nancy Nelson _is_ a nobody----"
"You will lose _your_ recreation hours until the Christmas holiday, Miss
Rathmore," declared the Madame, rapping on her desk with a pencil. "And
don't let me hear any more of this back-biting and unkindness in the
freshman class. Understand? You are all four excused."
They obeyed the little woman who--by turns--could be so stern and yet so
kind. Cora Rathmore flashed out in the lead and, crying with shame and
anger, ran upstairs without speaking to her chums at the foot of the
flight.
Corinne came out of the anteroom with an arm around the waist of each of
the smaller girls. Quite a number of the West Side girls were either
coming down the stairs, or had already gathered to wait for the doors to
open into the dining room.
"I want you girlies to know," said the captain, cheerfully, "that we've
got two perfect little bricks in this class of greenies at Pinewood
Hall. And one of 'em's named Jennie Bruce and the other's named Nancy
Nelson.
"I prophesy, too," pursued the beauty of the school, "that Jennie and
Nancy are going to be the most notorious female Damon-and-Pythias
combination we have ever had at Pinewood.
"Now, run along, you two children," she added, giving Jennie and Nancy a
little shove each, "and get your eyes cooled off and wash your dirty
little hands for supper. Hurry up!"
And did Nancy and Jennie care what the girls said to them now? Not a bit
of it!
They went up the stairs and through the long corridor with their arms
around each other. And Jennie insisted upon taking Nancy to her room to
fix up for supper.
"We'll only run across Cora in Number 30--and I don't want to have to
slap her face!" declared the still wrathful Jennie.
"Then I'll help you pack up your things to bring to Number 30," said
Nancy.
"Oh, not before supper, Nance!" cried Jennie, in horror. "I could go out
and bite a piece off the stone step, and swallow it right down, I'm so
hungry."
For the first time since she had come to Pinewood Hall, Nancy Nelson
went down to supper with her arm around another girl's waist, and
another girl's arm around hers.
Jennie Bruce boldly sat beside her, too, although she belonged at
another table. And they whispered together, and giggled, and were even
reproved by one of the teachers--which was likewise a new experience for
Nancy, and perhaps did her no particular harm.
"Ah-ha, Miss Mousie!" said Corinne, pausing by the new chums as she
made her tour of inspection, and pinching Nancy's ear; "I see now I
shall have both you and Bruce to watch. But don't you two go too far."
Really, a brand new existence had opened for Nancy. Jennie's ready
championship of her did much to influence the opinion of the other
girls; and the story Grace Montgomery and Cora Rathmore spread regarding
Nancy fell rather flat.
The Montgomery clique, after all, embraced only a very few of the
freshman class and some half dozen or more sophs. The latter had no
influence at all in Nancy's class for, naturally, it was "war to the
knife" between the freshies and the class immediately above them in the
school.
Corinne, too, after the grand explosion in which the Madame herself had
taken part, saw to it more particularly that the Montgomery crowd did
not "pick on" Nancy. If Jennie was about, however, that was sufficient.
Jennie Bruce would fight for her friend at the least provocation.
Yet, after all, Nancy was not entirely easy in her mind. That the story
of her being a "mere nobody" had failed to make her ostracised by the
better class of Pinewood Hall girls, was a delightful fact.
Yet the story was true. Nancy _was_ nobody; as the Montgomery and Cora
said, her parents _might_ be people of no morals nor breeding. There
_might_ be some great shame connected with herself and her family.
The mystery of it all made Nancy very unhappy at times; but not so
unhappy as before. Now she had a close friend with whom she could
discuss the secret; and Jennie Bruce was just as deeply interested in
Nancy's affairs as was Nancy herself.
"Some day it will come all right, Nance," the former assured her
roommate. "Maybe you and I will find out the truth. Perhaps that O'Brien
boy will help. I have great faith in Scorch, and I want to meet him."
"Oh! do you suppose you and I could go to Cincinnati together!" gasped
Nancy.
"Goody! It would be great!"
"And then you could see Scorch."
"And I want to see that Mr. Gordon. I bet that lawyer knows more about
you than he is willing to tell."
"But perhaps he is doing his best for me, after all," concluded Nancy,
with a sigh.
Number 30, West Side, began to get a new reputation after Jennie came to
it. In the first place, Jennie was one of those girls who bring from
home to boarding school countless mementoes of their home life and of
their family and friends.
Jennie's photographs and funny pictures, and pennants, and all the
other "litter" that a schoolgirl loves spilled over from her own bureau
to Nancy's, and not only was Jennie's side of the den decorated, but
there was plenty to decorate Nancy's side.
No longer was Nancy's dressing-case the most plainly furnished in the
school. There were bows of ribbon, and bright calendar pictures, and
photo-frames, and numberless other little keepsakes tacked to the wall
on Nancy's side.
Jessie Pease put her head into Number 30 a day or two after Jennie's
arrival, and exclaimed with delight:
"Ah-ha! now the dear bairn's got a homey looking room, thanks be! It's
made my heart ache to see how barren the walls were. You're a good girl,
Janie Bruce, if you _do_ make me a world of trouble."
"Trouble! Trouble!" shouted Jennie. "How dare you say such a thing?" and
then she danced around the good soul, clapping her hands and singing:
"Pease Porridge hot--pease porridge cold--
Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old!
Some like it hot--some like it cold--
But Jessie Pease of Pinewood never will be old!"
"Bless ye, Janie," said the good Scotchwoman, "I hope I'll never be any
older than the youngest bairn who comes here to school."
"Sure! you're a regular kid!" declared Jennie, hugging her.
"My usefulness here will be all forbye when I can't be a lassie wi'
other lassies," declared the lodgekeeper's wife, kissing both Jennie and
Nancy and then going her way.
The pleasure of having Jennie Bruce in Number 30 instead of Cora
Rathmore was no small thing to Nancy. In Jennie's society she began to
expand. She became, indeed, quite a different creature from the quiet,
almost speechless girl who had heretofore crept about Pinewood Hall.
Girls of her own class, who had scarcely noticed Nancy before, suddenly
found that she was a bright and cheerful body when once she was included
in a group of her mates.
She had made a splendid mark in classes, and stood equally high in such
athletics as Miss Etching encouraged. And on the ice she had shown
herself to be the equal of many of the older girls.
Now, with the ban lifted from her recreation hours, Nancy could go on
the river again. And skating was one of her favorite sports.
The weather had remained cold all this time and, when it snowed at all,
there had been a high wind which blew the snow (for the most part) off
the ice and so did not put a veto on skating.
Clinton River was frozen nearly a foot in depth. The ice harvest had
begun, and it was not yet Christmas. But where the men cut for the huge
icebarns was beyond Dr. Dudley's Academy, and so did not trouble the
girls of Pinewood Hall who desired to skate. Nor did it trouble the boys
from the Academy, either; they were all glad to move up river for their
ice sports.
Hockey was a favorite game of the boys, and Nancy one afternoon watched
a match game between the crack team of the Academy and one made up of
lads from Clintondale. Bob Endress captained the school team and, Nancy
thought, covered himself with glory.
To Nancy's secret disappointment Bob only bowed to her. He never skated
with her again, although she saw him with Grace Montgomery and her
friends.
Nancy wasn't particularly enamored of boys; Jennie liked them better
than Nancy did, and was frank to say so, for Jennie was somewhat of a
tomboy and always played with her brothers and their friends when she
was at home.
Bob Endress, however, had seemed to Nancy to be a particularly nice boy.
And they had had a secret understanding together before Grace and Cora
had found out about Higbee School.
Nancy said nothing to Jennie about it; but she wondered if Bob felt as
the Montgomery clique did about her--that she was a mere nobody and was
really beneath his notice.
Of course, Nancy was only a young girl--in her first year at Pinewood
Hall; and Bob Endress was quite three years her senior. Even Corinne
Pevay and Carrie Littlefield showed interest in Bob, although he was
only a junior at Dr. Dudley's school.
The girls had so many interests among themselves on the ice, however,
that they did not seek the boys' society. Besides, this was not
altogether approved. Miss Etching was usually with the girls in the
afternoon, while one of the instructors from the Academy skated with the
boys.
Grace Montgomery made a great matter of Bob's being her cousin. It was
known to Miss Etching that the Senator and his wife approved of the
intimacy of their daughter with the boy. Naturally Grace's friends
attracted Bob's friends--and there you have it!
The many girls of Pinewood Hall, however, who found delight in skating
for the sake of the sport itself, welcomed Nancy as one of their own.
They found she could skate splendidly with a partner, that she could
cut figure eights, could do the "long roll," and otherwise give a good
account of herself on the ice.
So when it was suggested that there should be a skating contest on the
river one evening just previous to the Christmas holidays, Nancy was
urged to participate. Of course, the older girls expected to carry off
the palm. Corinne Pevay came from Canada, and one or two other girls
lived well up toward the line. So their winters were long and they were
proficient in every winter sport before they came to Pinewood.
But Jennie urged Nancy to do her best in the long races.
"That's where you will have 'em, Nance," she declared. "Half of these
big girls lose their breath after a little run."
So Nancy entered for the two-mile race, which was the "big number" on
the hastily-made-up program. The boys had helped them set stakes, the
distance being ten laps around the course.
Although the moon was small, the stars were brilliant and on the ice
everything was as plain as day. Miss Maybrick and Miss Meader helped the
physical instructor; and those girls who did not take part in the "ice
carnival," as they laughingly called it, came down to the river to see
the races.
Each class rooted for their own champions. Corinne and Carrie were of
course favorites of the seniors; but the juniors were sure they had a
champion in one of their number, and even the sophs shouted for Judy
Craig and were willing to back her even against the Canadian senior who
had, as Jennie Bruce declared, "been born on skates."
"But just the same," said Nancy's roommate, "you stand a good chance in
the straightaway races and in the two-mile. Don't you lose courage,
Nance. I've watched you and I say that the freshies can afford to cheer
for you, just as the sophs are rooting for Judy."
So Nancy went down to the ice that evening very much encouraged--and
more excited than she had ever been since coming to Pinewood Hall.