AN ENEMY.
During the dinner hour Phyllis glanced often at her dearest friend
wondering, almost troubled, at the change that had so recently come over
her. Across the wide refectory, two other pairs of eyes were also
watching Nan and in the proud face of Muriel Metcalf there was a sneering
expression.
"How guilty Nan Barrington acts," she said softly to the girl at her
side.
"She dreads having the truth found out, I suppose," Daisy Wells replied,
"but probably we are the only ones who know it and of course we would not
tell."
Muriel's pale blue eyes turned toward her friend and her brows were
lifted questioningly, as she inquired:--"Indeed? Who said that we would
not tell?"
"I will not," Daisy replied quietly. "My mother has told me to ask myself
two questions before repeating something that might hurt another. First,
is it kind; second, is it necessary? So, Muriel, why tell, since it is
neither kind nor necessary?"
Daisy's natural impulses were always good, but she often seemed to be
easily led by her less conscientious friend, Muriel Metcalf.
"Oh well, you may side with her if you prefer," the other said with a
shrug of her shoulders, "but I shall watch her closely tonight and see
what she does. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she went back to the
gypsy camp, and, as for telling, I shall do as I think best about that."
To herself Muriel added, "If Nan Barrington wins the gold medal at the
recital contest next Saturday, it shall be known all over the school
before night that she is only a gypsy." Wisely, she said nothing of this
to Daisy Wells, whose sense of justice, she knew, would scorn such an act
of jealousy.
Nan was planning, as soon as she left the dining hall, to go at once to
the office of Mrs. Dorsey and ask permission to go out of grounds, and,
since she was an honor student, she knew the request would be granted
without question. As the girls were sauntering through the corridors
after dinner in groups of two and three, Phyllis exclaimed:--
"Well, Nan dear, the wonderful night has arrived at last," and then when
her friend's dark eyes were turned toward her questioningly, she added
merrily, "Nan Barrington, do you mean to tell me that you have forgotten
what we are to do tonight? Why only this morning you said how glad you
were that the day had at last arrived."
Then it was that Nan recalled the long-planned and much-anticipated
theatre party. Madame Reznor was to chaperone her class in dramatics that
they might see a noted actor in a Shakespearian play which they were
studying.
Since the appearance of the gypsy caravan, she had forgotten all else.
What should she do? Nan, who had never told a lie, could not say that she
was ill or that she did not want to go.
"Come, dear," Phyllis was saying, "I will help you dress as we are to
start in half an hour. The rest of us dressed before dinner, but though I
hunted everywhere, I could not find you."
Nan permitted herself to be led to their room and mechanically she let
down her long dark hair. Suddenly the thought came to her that she would
awaken at dawn and slip out to the camp and then she could ask her gypsy
friends if they knew aught of her Manna Lou.
Half an hour later, trying to assume a spirit of merriment that she might
not mar the joyousness of the others, Nan climbed into the waiting car
that was to take them to the city. Muriel watched her go, then turning to
Daisy Wells, she said, "Now, you and I are going down to the gypsy camp
and find out what it was that Nan Barrington said when she was talking in
that queer language."
The other girl looked up from the problem that she was trying to solve,
as she replied, "No Muriel, I am not going. I promised little Janet that
I would help her with her sums tonight. She has been ill and is eager to
catch up with her class, and, moreover, I have no desire to spy upon
actions of a schoolmate."
"Oh, indeed!" Muriel said with a toss of her head and then she added
sarcastically, "Aren't you afraid that you will soon be sprouting wings?
It seems to me that you have become a saint very suddenly."
Daisy had arisen and was gathering up her books and papers as she quietly
replied, "No, Muriel, I am not pretending to be better than anyone else,
but I like Nan Barrington, no one could help liking her, she is so kind
and generous, and I do not in the least care what her ancestry may be.
Yes, Janet dear, I'm coming right away," she added to the frail little
girl who had appeared in the doorway.
Muriel, left alone, put on a long cloak, and, winding a scarf about her
head, she went out. Well she knew that it was against the rules to go
beyond the seminary grounds at night, but she did not care. Something was
all wrong in the heart of Muriel Metcalf, and that something was jealousy
which was rapidly becoming hatred. She had so wanted to win the medal of
gold, but she knew that Nan Barrington had practiced far more
conscientiously. Vaguely Muriel thought that, perhaps, if she could find
out something against Nan, she might have her barred from the coming
contest.
Having reached the gate in the hedge, Muriel peered through, and saw, in
the light of the camp fire, the gypsies sitting close about it, for the
night was cold. When the girl approached, one of the gypsy women rose and
called in greeting, "Ha, pretty leicheen, I feared you were not coming."
Then, as the firelight fell on the face of the girl, she added truly
disappointed, "but you are not the same. Could she not come, the other
little girl?"
"No," Muriel replied. "She wished me to say that she had to go into the
city." Then eager to obtain the information for which she had come, she
added hurriedly, "Nan Barrington tells me that she too, is a gypsy."
"Yes, the pretty leicheen is one of us." Then, in a wheedling voice, the
gypsy woman said, "Let me tell your fortune, dearie. Cross my palm with
silver. I see much happiness for you, but it is far off. First there is
trouble. You are trying to harm someone who is your friend, someone who
is to do much to help you. You should not do this."
Muriel's eyes flashed as she said haughtily. "I did not come here to have
my fortune told. Thanks to you I have learned what I wished to know."
Then, without another word, she walked rapidly toward the side gate, but
her heart was indeed troubled; she could not understand why, or would
not, and it was late before she fell asleep. Too, it was late when
Phyllis and Nan Barrington returned to their room and Nan's last
conscious thought was that she wanted to waken before daybreak that she
might visit the gypsy camp.