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JUDY OF YORK HILL
by
ETHEL HUME
With Illustrations by Harold Cue
[Illustration: PILLOWS WERE SORTED OUT, AND NANCY WITH THE TINY LIGHT
LED THE WAY (_page_ 59)]
[Illustration]
Boston and New York
Houghton Mifflin Company
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1922
Copyright, 1922, by Ethel Hume Bennett
All Rights Reserved
The Riverside Press
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Printed in the U.S.A.
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO YOU WHO IN
THE OLD SCHOOL LEARNED
_"To set the cause above renown,
To love the game beyond the prize,
To honour, while you strike him down,
The foe that comes with fearless eyes;
To count the life of battle good,
And dear the land that gave you birth,
And dearer yet the brotherhood
That binds the brave of all the earth._
. . . . . . .
_To-day and here the fight's begun
Of the great fellowship you're free;
Henceforth the School and you are one,
And what You are, the race shall be."_
HENRY NEWBOLT
CONTENTS
I. BEGINNINGS 3
II. IMPORTANT THINGS 21
III. DRESSING UP 37
IV. A SUPPER PARTY 47
V. "ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST" 54
VI. PUTTING IT THROUGH 65
VII. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS 87
VIII. CASTLES IN THE AIR 100
IX. THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 115
X. JUDITH PLAYS DETECTIVE 133
XI. FRIENDS 148
XII. EASTER HOLIDAYS 169
XIII. THE MESSENGER 186
XIV. JUDITH WINS THE TENNIS CUP 203
XV. JUNE SHOWERS 218
XVI. A TOAST TO THE SCHOOL 239
XVII. PRIZE-GIVING 259
ILLUSTRATIONS
PILLOWS WERE SORTED OUT, AND NANCY WITH THE TINY LIGHT
LED THE WAY _Frontispiece_
JUDITH WAS TUCKED UP IN A FUR ROBE IN THE CUTTER AND
OFF THEY WENT 102
JUDITH HAD TO HEAR EVERY SINGLE THING THAT HAD HAPPENED
TO NANCY SINCE THEY PARTED 182
THEN CURIOSITY URGED HER TO OPEN THE LITTLE WHITE BOX 248
JUDY OF YORK HILL
CHAPTER I
BEGINNINGS
"YES, we're nearly in," said Uncle Tom, glancing out at the flying
landscape. "There's the lake, and here comes the porter to stir up the
dust."
Judith's heart beat a little more quickly. Toronto and York Hill School
had been the centre of her thoughts for months past, and now she was
almost there and a new life ahead of her!
"I suppose you've read your 'Tom Brown,' Judy, eh? 'Like young bears
with all your troubles to come,'" quoted Uncle Tom as he left her a few
minutes later with Aunt Nell who had come to the station to meet them.
"Can't help having trouble, I'm afraid, but when you're going to be
expelled for not having solved your geometry problem, just drown your
grief in an ice-cream soda in the tuck shop"--and he dexterously
inserted a crisp bank-note into Judith's bag.
"Don't mind him, Judy, darling, he's always teasing. We'll do our
shopping first of all. I've arranged for a fitting at Madame's for you."
"Mother and Daddy sent their love," said Judith a little soberly as they
got into the waiting motor. "Yes, I think Mother seemed a little
better--and she's just sure that Florida will make her perfectly well."
Her lips quivered ever so slightly as she remembered how every hour was
taking her mother farther away from her.
But Aunt Nell, who had promised her sister to finish Judith's shopping,
made haste to introduce the fascinating question as to whether taffeta
or crêpe would be best for the afternoon frock, and how many sweater
coats would she need.
They spent a busy and a delightful morning. Who doesn't like to get a
new outfit? And then, after luncheon at Aunt Nell's club, they motored
out to York, for they had an appointment with the Head Mistress at three
o'clock.
"Just around this curve and then we can see the School--there!" said
Aunt Nell, and Judith leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement.
"Blessed old York! I can't have quite the same affection, of course,
for these new buildings as I had for the old School in town--York
Ladies' College it was then; but this certainly is handsomer, and we've
still got Miss Meredith and some of the old staff, so it's the same
York."
Judith looked eagerly at the great pile of grey stone vine-clad
buildings.
"That's the main school with the bell-tower," continued Aunt Nell in her
character of guide. "The classrooms and offices are there, the two wings
are East and West Houses, farther to the north--there, you see--is North
House, and here is South where you are to be. That's Miss Meredith's
house over there by the maple trees, and back of the main school are the
gymnasium and the tennis courts. I hope you've brought your tennis
racquet; you'll get excellent practice."
Aunt Nell paused for a moment, and then she laughed a little ruefully.
"I'd love to give you a bit of advice or guidance that would help, Judy;
but honestly I don't know how to do it. Fathers and uncles in the school
stories always seem to know what to say. I do know that you're going to
have a splendid time--I wish _I_ were sixteen again and my first year
at York before me." Aunt Nell looked reminiscent for a moment, and then
added, "One thing--York is going to help you to grow; and if I didn't
feel rather like a very heavy uncle who was being listened to for the
tip he was to bestow, I'd conclude by quoting from 'Hamlet'--yes, I
will--it's the soundest piece of advice I know.
'To thine own self be true,
And it shall follow as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.'
There, that's my last will and testament. York is going to show you how
to be true to the best that's in you; perhaps the girls will teach you
as much as the staff will--you've got some very important things to
learn from them."
Judith looked politely astonished, but not very deeply interested. Fancy
having to listen to "Hamlet" when a perfectly fascinating new world lay
just a few yards away! But Aunt Nell really was a dear--that new blue
taffeta was going to be stunning.
Judith had dreaded a little the interview with Miss Meredith; she was
sure that the Head of this great School must be an awe-inspiring
person, stern and somewhat like a judge. But Miss Meredith's welcome was
so warm and gracious that Judith felt surprisingly at her ease. She was
conscious of a dignified presence, kind yet keen blue eyes, a beautiful,
low-pitched voice, and a personality, which, even in that first short
interview, Judith recognized as strong and powerful.
Judith's course of study was discussed, and then a charming-looking
girl--who was apparently waiting in the corridor for the purpose--was
summoned and introduced as Nancy Nairn, a classmate, and member of the
same house.
They made way for another newcomer and her mother, and the moment Judith
had dreaded was come. She kept Aunt Nell a few minutes in the hall
sending messages to Doris and Bobby and Uncle Tom, and a miserable
aching lump rose in her throat, though she swallowed hard.
"Head up, honey," whispered Aunt Nell, holding Judith's hands firmly.
"Ask Miss Marlowe to let you 'phone me if you need anything, and on
Friday I'll come for you. What a lot you'll have to tell me!"
For one desperate instant Judith felt that she must follow her or else
let the wretched lump, which was growing larger and larger, compel her
to tears, but there at her elbow was Nancy whose blue eyes were dancing
and who apparently had no sympathy for tears.
"Let's go over to South and see about your room," she began. "Do you
know any one here?"
Judith shook her head.
"Oh, well, you'll soon know heaps. What a perfectly sweet bag," she
added tactfully, surveying Judith's beaded treasure from Paris. "Do let
me see it."
Judith wondered if she could speak, but Nancy didn't wait. Her soldier
brother had brought her a bag from Liberty's. Would Judith come and see
it? She did hope Judith's room was near hers; at least hers was not a
room, but a cubicle. Judith's eyes questioned. Cubicle had to be
explained as a room with low walls about six feet high, such a friendly
place to live in, "five or six of us in a row and we're never lonely,"
finished Nancy; "but then no one is lonely at York."
By this time they had crossed by a cloister to South House and were
standing at the House Mistress's door.
"Miss Marlowe must be a very popular person," thought Judith. Outside
the green baize door was a chattering mob of girls, all apparently
talking at the top of their voices. Indeed, it seemed to Judith that
they were screaming.
"Nancy, _darling_!" cried one, and Nancy was literally dragged from
Judith by several impetuous young persons who all talked at once.
"Glorious time" . . . "Did you?" . . . "Temagami" . . . "camped out for
three weeks" . . . "Indian guides" . . . "_Such_ diving" . . . "Heavenly
time" . . . "Murray Bay" . . .
Then a louder voice--
"Miss Marlowe wants Peggy Forrest."
"Here, Piggy, hurry along"--and a fat girl was propelled through the
crowd.
"Jane, my dear, I thought you were never coming," heralded a new
arrival.
"Miss Marlowe is a brick; we are to have thirty-three."
Squeals of delight and the retreat of three inseparables.
Judith began to feel that she would drown amidst all the noise, but
Nancy had a tight grip of her arm again, and at last it was her turn at
the door.
Judith never lost that first picture of Miss Marlowe in her study, a
pleasant, sun-flooded room, low bookcases, the gleam of brass, colorful
pictures, a cosy fire, and Miss Marlowe herself, grey-eyed,
ruddy-haired, and low-voiced. The quiet voice began to work a magic, and
after a few minutes' chat Judith felt less like a lost soul and more
like a normal girl again. Then Nancy was summoned from without.
"Judith is to be in number twenty-five, Nancy; will you take her up and
see that she is settled? Her trunk is there already; it came this
morning. You can be very busy at once, Judith"--and Miss Marlowe's smile
was friendly and comforting.
Nancy squeezed Judith's hand impulsively as they left the room to make
way for other girls.
"Twenty-five! I _am_ glad you are in our set of cubicles."
Twenty-five proved to be the tiniest room Judith had ever seen, more
like a ship's cabin than a room, she thought, surveying her new abode
with disfavour. A couch-bed, writing-desk and bookcase, a bureau, a
wicker chair--how was there room for them all? And how dreadful to have
only half a wall--well, three quarters of a wall between you and your
neighbour!
There were five of these little cubicles in a row, she saw; then a
closed door evidently opening into a bedroom at the end, and the six
rooms had their own hall which was closed off from the main corridor by
a big door.
Judith unlocked her trunk and began to unpack her treasures. Wherever
was the clothes-closet? Surely there was one?
In a few moments Nancy's voice was heard again--
"Come and see my new evening frock before I put it away."
Judith began to realize the advantages of a cubicle. How nice to be able
to talk to one's neighbours in this friendly fashion--and a new frock!
Judith adored clothes, and she was soon admiring Nancy's pet frock.
The cupboard was discovered, one of a row in the hall, and the two spent
a happy hour, unpacking.
Nancy explained the use of the shelf on the inside of the cupboard door
to hold toilet articles, and pointed out the towel bars and a wooden
locker for hats on the cupboard shelf.
"It's great luck," said Nancy, "to have our trunks up so soon; we can
get our things put away before the others come, and then we'll have
plenty of time for visiting.
"I wonder who is coming to the other rooms! I know Josephine Burley is
trying to get into this set of cubicles, but Miss Marlowe has her own
ideas about which rooms we're to have.
"You'll love Miss Marlowe. She's a dear--strict, you know, but just--and
she helps with the plays--she can act anything. Aren't you glad you're
in South? Of _course_ South is the crack house! We won the basket-ball
cup last year and our captain is School Captain this year."
While they talked, they finished their unpacking, and Judith, who was
naturally very orderly, soon had everything in its place. Her mother's
parting gift had been couch-cover, cushions, and hangings for the new
room--homespun of a lovely deep blue for cover and cushions, and a
delightful rosy chintz for hangings.
Judith was eager to see how her room would look and worked quickly and
deftly. She was hanging her curtains when she heard excited voices in
the corridor, then a banging of doors and screams of delight as the
newcomers found Nancy.
"Good work, Nancy," said some one in a gruff voice. "How did you do it?
I never thought Miss Marlowe would let us three be together again."
"My blameless character, Miss Josephine Burley, did the trick," retorted
Nancy. "I pointed out to Miss Marlowe the good influence living with me
would have on a reprobate like you."
"Reprobate! I like that," said the owner of the deep, boyish voice, and
sounds of scuffling feet, the creaking of the bed, and bursts of
laughter proclaimed a tussle.
Nancy apparently had the worst of it, and she was sat upon literally and
heavily and then fed with chocolates.
Scraps of conversation floated over the walls:
"Rosamond's in thirty-seven--very, very mad is Rosamond. Hope we'll have
Pat as prefect."
"No such luck. Pat is in number ten."
"There's a new girl in twenty-five"--this from Nancy in a lowered
voice.
In a moment there was a knock at the door and Judith was introduced to
the owner of the deep voice, Josephine Burley, and her satellite, Jane
Fenton.
"Why, you've got your room fixed already," said Josephine admiringly.
"Somebody's been working hard! Look at her lovely curtains! I wish I'd
had rose now, instead of yellow."
"'T wouldn't have made a speck of difference, Jo, and you know it,"
commented Jane with a wicked twinkle. "You know you say you were made
untidy, and untidy you'll stay."
"I promised Miss Marlowe I'd reform. I'm not going to forget anything,
and I'm going to get a _beautiful_ record for my room, and my hair and
clothes are going to be so irreproachable that Miss Watson will have
nothing to do but create masterpieces all term."
"Are we going to have Miss Marlowe for English, by the way?" asked Jane.
"I hope so. And is Eleanor here yet? I've got to see her about a new
basket-ball."
"I never saw three girls so different," thought Judith as she sat eating
chocolates and listening to School gossip. "Nancy's much the
prettiest--I love gold hair, and she has such aristocratic hands and
feet--she's lovely--I do hope we'll be friends. Josephine's almost
rough--and what an untidy mop of hair! I wonder if her eyes are
brown--she shuts them up so tight when she laughs I can't see--and she
seems to be laughing most of the time. She's awfully big--I don't think
I'd like to be quite so tall. Jane's funny--she's almost square--fair
and solid--and how straight her hair is; she's got a wicked grin--she's
a monkey, I do believe."
The dressing-bell rang before the three friends had caught up on the
latest news, but thanks to the low walls conversation could proceed even
while they dressed. Nancy remembered to ask Judith if she needed any
help with dome fasteners, and then they went down to the dining-room
together.
The tables were laid for six, each headed by a sixth-form girl.
"At dinner we usually have a teacher at each table," explained Nancy,
"but this being first night the staff are by themselves."
Judith was introduced to the prefect, Esther Harriman, a tall,
black-haired girl who enquired at once what games Judith played, and
learning that she preferred tennis assured her that she could have a
game the next day.
Nancy continued to point out notables: the brown-haired prefect at the
next table with the frank, boyish look was Eleanor Ormsby, the Captain
of the School, and next to her was Rosamond--
Esther interrupted them in order to introduce a newcomer who had arrived
late, evidently just from a journey.
"This is Sally May Forsythe, Nancy, from Richmond, Virginia, and she's
going to be in your set of cubicles, Miss Marlowe says."
Sally May was almost as pretty as Nancy, Judith decided, but not quite,
though her eyes were big and brown, and her soft Southern voice wholly
charming.
"We're to go back to Miss Marlowe's room so she can talk over your
schedule of lessons with you," announced Nancy as they left the
dining-room, "and then we'll go over to the gymnasium."
"Gymnasium?" gasped Judith.
"Oh, just for a dance," said Nancy, "It'll be good fun. Wait for me in
the corridor outside Miss Marlowe's room."
It _was_ good fun, Judith decided a little later as she had her first
dance with Nancy, and then with Sally May--but bewildering. There had
been only about fifty girls in the dining-room at South, and even there
she had been confused by the number of voices, but here the whole
School, some two hundred girls, were gathered, and there was a perfect
Babel of sound.
Nancy piloted them back to South, and as Sally May's luggage had not
come she was fitted out with what she needed. Nancy went to the
housekeeper's room for soap and a toothbrush--Mrs. Bronson kept a supply
for such emergencies; Josephine donated her best crêpe nightie--in which
Sally May was presently to look quite lost, so large was it; and Judith
got out her newest and prettiest kimono.
"You'll feel as if you'd been here all your life by the time you get all
these and my old bath slippers on," said Jane saucily. "Come into my
room as soon as you're arrayed in all this glory--there's a little cake
left and I'm going to do my best to find some ginger-ale."
Judith was brushing out her pretty brown hair and looking rather
solemnly at her reflection in the mirror when shrieks of delight
testified to the arrival of some one, who, to judge by the commotion,
must be very popular.
"Cathy, you darling, are you _really_ to be ours? What precious
luck!--Josephine and Jane, and--yes--two new girls--Judith Benson in
twenty-five and Sally May Forsythe in twenty-one."
There was a knock at the door and a clear voice said, "May I come in?"
Judith opened her door and straightway lost her heart when the newcomer
smiled a welcome. Catherine was adored by every beauty-loving girl in
the School, for she had beauty of a rare type--a slender, graceful body,
a well-set little head crowned with a big braid of softly waving dark
brown hair, and haunting, black-lashed Irish blue eyes.
"Isn't she simply lovely?" whispered Nancy after Catherine had gone to
her own room. "And she's just as good as she looks. Oh, goody, I'm _so_
glad she's our prefect!"
Miss Marlowe put her head in the door to say good-night just before the
"Lights out" bell rang, and then Judith was at last alone. She was
bewildered by the mass of new impressions; the twinkling of the
trainman's lanterns as she looked out of her berth in the early
morning; the cold, chilly touch of homesickness when she followed the
porter out of the Pullman; Aunt Nell's welcome; the exciting shopping;
the first glimpse of the school set high on the hill; Aunt Nell's little
sermon; Nancy's merry eyes; the Babel of voices in the gymnasium;
Catherine Ellison's beautiful face; her mother's proud good-bye, "I can
trust you, Judy, darling--"
Suddenly Judith realized that Mother and Daddy were many hundreds of
miles away, that Aunt Nell had gone, and that she was alone, alone with
these hundreds of strangers. The thought terrified her: the ache in her
throat grew intolerable: she would have to sob and disgrace herself.
There was a rustling of paper on the other side of the partition, and
then--
"Catch," said Josephine in a hoarse whisper, and something dropped on to
Judith's bed.
"Catch," came in a shriller whisper from the other side, and a second
something followed.
Judith groped for them in surprise and discovered a chocolate bar and a
huge sticky Chelsea bun wrapped in tissue paper.
"Promised Cathy we wouldn't have a picnic to-night," said Nancy, "but we
didn't say that we wouldn't sit up in bed like little ladies and partake
of some light refreshment."
Sheer surprise made it possible for Judith to say, "Thank you." A moment
ago she would have felt one word was an impossibility and then--oh,
blessed bun!--one cannot sob and eat a large Chelsea bun at the same
time.
Judith ate slowly and carefully, set her lips, and kept back the
miserable lump. The chocolate was still to finish, and Jane began an
interminable story of a canoe trip in Algonquin Park, but before it was
nearly ended, tired Judith was fast asleep.