A Scattered School
IT seemed too bad for such a delightful day to end sorrowfully, but
the evening paper certainly brought disquieting news. It stated that
the School Board hoped to provide, within a very few days, suitable
schoolrooms for all the pupils. And, in another item, the unfeeling
editor complimented the Board on its enterprise.
"I'd like that Board a whole lot better," said Marjory, "if it weren't
so enterprising. I s'posed we were going to have at least a month to
play in."
"Just before Christmas, too," grumbled Mabel. "They might at least have
waited until I'd finished Father's shoe-bag. And what do you think?
Mother says I'd better give that Janitor a Christmas present!"
"Perhaps the paper is mistaken," soothed Jean. "You know it always is
about the weather reports. If it says 'Fair,' it's sure to rain; and
when it says 'Colder,' it's quite certain to be warm. Besides, there
isn't a place in town big enough for all that school."
But this time it was Jean and not the paper that was mistaken. In just
a few days the School Board announced that its hopes were realized.
It had found "suitable quarters" for all the classes. Two grades went
into the basement of the Baptist Church. The underground portion of
the Methodist edifice accommodated two more. The A. O. U. W. Hall
opened its doors to three others. A benevolent private citizen took
in the kindergarten. A downtown store hastily transformed itself from
an unsuccessful harness shop into nearly as unsuccessful a haven for
two other grades. The City Hall gave up its Council Chamber to the
Seniors, and the Masons loaned their dining-room to the Juniors,
without, however, providing any refreshment. The enterprising Board
had telegraphed for desks the very day of the fire; and as soon as
that dreadfully prompt furniture arrived, it was remorselessly screwed
into place. The Stationer, too, had speedily ordered books. They, too,
traveled with unseemly haste from New York to Lakeville. By Thursday,
less than a week after the fire, there were desks and seats and books
for everybody; and would you believe it, they even kept school on
Saturday, that week!
And now, an utterly unforeseen thing happened. Hitherto Jean, who was
usually the first to be ready, had stopped for Marjory and Bettie. All
three had stopped to finish dressing Mabel, who always needed a great
deal of assistance, and then all four had walked merrily to school
together. But now this happy scheme was entirely ruined, for here was
Jean doing algebra under the Baptist roof, Bettie struggling with
grammar in the Methodist basement, Marjory climbing two long flights
of stairs to the A. O. U. W. Hall and Mabel passing six saloons to
reach her desk in the made-over harness shop.
"It isn't just what we'd choose," apologized the School Board, "but it
won't last forever. We'll build just as soon as we can."
Except for the inconvenience of having to go to school separately the
children were rather pleased with the novelty of moving into such
unusual quarters as the Board had provided; but the mothers were not at
all satisfied.
"That Baptist cellar is damp and Jean's throat is delicate," complained
Mrs. Mapes. "I know she'll be sick half the winter; but of course
she'll have to go to school there as long as there's no better place."
"That Methodist Church is no place for children," declared Mrs. Tucker.
"Its brick walls were condemned seven years ago and it's likely to fall
down at any moment, even if they did brace it up with iron bands. But
Bettie's too far behind now for me to take her out of school, so I
suppose she'll just have to risk having that church tumble in on her."
"It's a shame," sputtered Aunty Jane, "for Marjory to climb all those
stairs twice a day. It's all very well for the Ancient Order of United
Workmen to climb two flights with grown-up legs, but it isn't right for
delicate girls. However, there's no help for it just now, and I can't
say I blame the child for sliding down the banisters, though of course
I do scold her for it."
"There are saloons on both sides of that harness shop," said Mrs.
Bennett, "and six more this side of it, besides a livery stable that is
always full of loafers and bad language. Mabel has never been allowed
to go to that part of town alone, and now I have to send a maid with
her twice a day. But of course she has to go, even if the maid _is_
more timid than Mabel is."
"By next year," consoled the Board, "we'll have a bigger and better
schoolhouse than the old one. In the meantime we must all have
patience."
Except that Mabel, without the others to get her started, was always
late and that Bettie, without Marjory to coach her on the way, found it
difficult to learn her lessons, school life went on very much as usual,
for matters soon settled down as things always do and Lakeville turned
its attention to fresher problems.
Poor Bettie, indeed, was busier than ever because Miss Rossitor, the
Domestic Science teacher, whose classes were temporarily housed in the
Methodist kitchen, discovered that Bettie could draw. Every day or two
she asked Bettie to remain after school to copy needed illustrations on
the blackboard. One day, Miss Rossitor demanded a cow. She needed it,
she explained, to show her class the different cuts of meat.
"A side view of a plain cow," said she.
"I think," said Bettie, reflectively nibbling the fresh stick of chalk,
"that I could do the outside of that cow, but I know I couldn't get his
veal cutlets in the proper spot."
"I'll give you a diagram," smiled Miss Rossitor, "for I see very
plainly, that it wouldn't be safe not to."
"Perhaps Miss Bettie thinks," ventured a belated pupil, a pink-cheeked
girl with an impertinent nose, "that one cow is a whole butcher shop."
"Well," returned Miss Rossitor, meaningly, "it isn't a great while
since some other folks were of the same opinion. But, since you are
now so very much wiser, you may label the parts after Bettie has drawn
them."
The girl made such a comical face that Bettie's gravity was in sad
danger, but she accepted the chalk. On the cow's shoulder she printed
"Pork sausages," on the flank, "Mutton chops," on the backbone,
"Oysters on the half-shell," on the breast, "buttons."
Bettie looked puzzled and doubtful but Miss Rossitor laughed outright.
"Henrietta Bedford," she said, "you're a complete humbug. If you don't
settle down to business you won't get home to-night."
"I'm going to walk home with Bettie," returned Henrietta, quickly
substituting the proper labels. "I can easily write out that luncheon
menu while she's putting feathers on the cow's tail."
And the new girl did walk home with Bettie, and teased her so merrily
all the long way that Bettie didn't know whether to like her or not.
Near the Cottage they met Jean, Marjory and Mabel just starting out to
look for belated Bettie.
"This," said Bettie introducing her new acquaintance, "is
Henrietta--Henrietta----"
"Plantagenet," assisted Henrietta Bedford, smoothly. "I am really a
Duchess in disguise, but I've left all my retainers in Ohio and I'm
simply dying for friends. This is my day for collecting them--I always
collect friends on Tuesdays. You are indeed fortunate to have happened
upon me on Tuesday. But, Elizabeth, why not finish your introductions?"
"This," obeyed overwhelmed Bettie, "is Jean, this is Marjory and this
is Mabel Bennett."
"What! The Damsel of the Dust-chute! I am indeed honored."
Then, as her quick eye traveled over Mabel's plump figure, Henrietta
added wickedly:
"Was that chute built to fit?"
Mabel flushed angrily.
"It is I," apologized Henrietta, "that should wear those blushes.
Forgive me, dear Damsel. I have an over-quick tongue and all my
speeches are followed by repentance. But I have a warm heart and I'm
really much nicer than I sound. See, I kneel at your insulted feet."
Whereupon this ridiculous girl with the impertinent nose flopped down
on her knees on the sidewalk and made such comically repentant faces
that all four giggled merrily.
"Get up, you goose," laughed Mabel. "Your apology is accepted."
"Come along with us," urged Jean. "We're going to have hot chocolate at
our house. Mother is trying to fatten Marjory, Bettie and me."
"She seems to succeed best with--hum--no personal remarks, please.
Dear maiden, I will inspect your home from the outside, but I regret
that I'm strictly forbidden to go _in_side any strange house without
my grandmother's permission. You'll have to call on me first. She
is _very_ particular in such matters. But," added Henrietta, with a
sudden twinkle, "I'm not. So, if you'll kindly rush in and make that
chocolate, there's no earthly reason why I shouldn't stand just
outside your gate and drink it."
"Oh," cried Bettie, "is it possible that you're Mrs. Howard Slater's
new granddaughter?"
"I am," admitted Henrietta, "but I'm not so new as you seem to think.
She has owned me for fourteen years. Now, hustle up that chocolate.
I've just remembered that I'm to have a dress tried on at four. It is
now half-past."