A TOAST TO THE SCHOOL
JUDITH woke early Friday morning with a feeling that something was going
to happen. "What is it?" she asked herself sleepily. "An examination?
No! Thank goodness, they are all over for this year." Now she
remembered, this was the day of the Reunion--and the Wedding! No wonder
that she felt that something was going to happen. What a day it was
going to be!
She stretched lazily, and instantly Nancy, who heard her moving,
whispered:
"You awake, Judy? I can't sleep. The Old Girls are coming to-day. Oh,
Goody! Goody! If the bell doesn't ring soon I'll burst. I simply must
shout a little bit."
Nancy's smiling face appeared over the wall of the cubicle.
"Let's get up and be all dressed when the bell does ring, and then we
can slip out into the garden."
"We'll have to be awfully quiet going for our baths," objected Judith,
who didn't feel as energetic as Nancy appeared to be; "you go first."
Nancy agreed, but when she came back all rosy from her bath Judith was
sound asleep. Nancy tiptoed over to the bed determined to wash the
sleeper's face with a bath-sponge, when something in the utter
relaxation of Judith's attitude struck her. Judith was tired, very
tired. "And no wonder," thought Nancy, as she stole quietly and with
infinite precautions back to her own room, "it makes me tired even to
_think_ of all we've done this week, and all there is to do yet, but
it's awfully jolly. Poor Judy! What a good thing she's got her speech
all ready for to-night. I am glad she isn't on the refreshment
committee."
There was an air of excitement in the dining-room even at
breakfast-time. Reminiscences of Old Girls were the order of the day,
and Judith learned the names of some of the more famous graduates. She
must look out for Kathryn Fleming, who had been singing in New York all
season, but she couldn't miss her, she wasn't the sort who was easily
overlooked; and Julia Weston, a judge of the Juvenile Court out West;
and Penelope Adams, who had married a millionaire and was a great
belle; and Martha Penrose, who was just "the sweetest little Virginian
you ever saw"; and her chum, Winifred Freeman, who was matron of a big
hospital; and Kitty Fisken, the artist; and Isobel Grier, who married
Professor Mitchell. Judith finally put her fingers in her ears.
"Don't tell me about any more of them," she begged. "I'm beginning to
get the same dazed feeling I had the first night I was here--I felt
smothered in people."
Breakfast was usually a rather quiet time, but to-day there was such a
clattering and chattering that Miss Langton rang the bell and asked for
"Lower voices, please." Judith's neighbour, Marjory, grinned.
"This isn't anything to what it will be by to-morrow," she said.
Even the maids seemed infected by the spirit of gaiety, but if they
moved more briskly than usual perhaps it was because they knew that
there would be many extra tables for them to serve at luncheon-time.
By nine o'clock the noise in the corridor was deafening. Old Girls could
evidently make a row when they chose. Such cries of joy on meeting
their special pals! Such questionings and laughings! Such greetings with
the Staff who forgot all about their waiting forms in their desire to
welcome So-and-So and to hear the latest news of some one else! Miss
Martin gave them ten minutes' grace before the bell rang for prayers,
and then the Old Girls joined the Sixth and took their places in Big
Hall once more. How happy Miss Meredith looked as the hymn was sung.
Judith found it difficult to listen to the reading of the lesson; she
wished she had eyes in the back of her head to see the Old Girls with
the Sixth. Nancy had told her before prayers that Evelyn Coulson, last
year's Captain, had arrived, and Penelope Adams, looking perfectly
stunning, and Dr. Mary Burgess, who had been in command of a Woman's
Hospital Unit in Serbia. Judith wanted to see her most of all, and she
wondered if Aunt Nell were with the others.
Prayers over, they went back to their form rooms, the Old Girls crowding
into the Sixth-Form room for a talk from Miss Meredith; but Miss
Meredith was detained for a few moments and they had a chance for
reminiscences.
"Do you remember Miss Watson's plaid skirt? My dear, she has on the
identical skirt now and her hair is just the same, only more so."
"Do you remember the time, Kathryn, you had to learn the 116th Psalm for
Miss Meredith, and thought she said the 119th?" said a plump young
matron with the contented look which belongs to mothers of happy little
families. "_I_ remember if you don't for you made our nights and days
miserable hearing you, and then it was all a mistake."
"Do you remember the first debate we had on woman's rights? Gracious me,
we thought we were advanced thinkers and no mistake."
"Do you remember the time Grace Wilton tried to trick the Infirmary
nurse by pouring her dose of castor oil down a rubber tube attached to a
bottle hid in her blouse, and how she poured it down the tube all right,
but not into the bottle? She _was_ in a mess."
"And do you remember Alice Roberts, when we had the measles epidemic,
rubbing her chest with a stiff hairbrush and complaining of headache so
that when nurse looked at her she sent her off to the Isolation
House--to join her special pal?"
The Sixth hung on the outskirts of the crowd drinking in stories of the
good old days, and then there was a sudden quiet in the room; Miss
Meredith had returned and was standing by the desk looking at them so
tenderly, so understandingly, that every girl knew that the Head
Mistress had come in to them with the prayer in her heart that she might
be able to give a message of strength and inspiration.
Such prayers are answered.
After the lesson the Old Girls moved away in little groups down to the
Big Hall where they were to have their annual business meeting. A great
deal of business was despatched during the next hour; notices of motion
were given for the next meeting, the reports of various committees were
read and approved, the question of this year's administration of the
scholarship fund discussed with much interest, and suggestions made as
to the form which this year's gift to the School should take. The
President got through the business on hand as quickly as possible, for,
as she pointed out, they had a real York Hill wedding on their hands,
and the meeting adjourned to decorate Big Hall for the ceremony. They
left it a bower of beauty. Some of the Old Girls had motored out to the
country and brought great masses of white and purple lilac, and
sweet-scented syringa, and big jars held the roses that the bride loved.
Judith and the rest of the "Jolly Susan" crew had begged to be allowed
to help since they were Miss Ashwell's own cubicle girls, and they had a
joyous time unpacking flowers which kept arriving, speculating as to the
bride's gown, and wondering what they would feel like if they were going
to be married that very afternoon.
"Next year won't be a bit the same," mourned Judith as she handed
festoons of green to Nancy who was decorating the front of the platform.
"Miss Ashwell will be gone and Catherine and Eleanor. I don't see
whatever we'll do."
"Oh, it'll be up to us," laughed Nancy, stepping back to admire the
handiwork.
"Us?" said Judith, aghast. "Why, I never thought of that before. I
suppose we will be in the Sixth Form."
"Well, you're going to be," said Nancy with conviction. "I don't know
whether I'll manage it or not. Oh, we'll have heaps to do next year,
never fear. Let's go and dress now so we'll have plenty of time to
arrange the last things for the supper."
Jane and Josephine were discussing the possibility of the bride
appearing in a real wedding gown. To Judith's disappointment the popular
vote seemed against it, since the wedding had been so hurriedly
arranged. But when a little later Miss Ashwell looking her loveliest
came down the aisle on Miss Meredith's arm, the most romantic of her
romantic audience was satisfied with her truly bride-like appearance.
Some of the girls afterwards could tell any number of details about the
way the orange blossoms fastened her veil, and how the long train was
lined, and whether her shoe buckles were of silver or of brilliants, but
Judith had eyes only for the lovely face with its expression of serene
and radiant happiness.
Judith had hoped that she would have a chance for a last word of
good-bye, but outside on the lawn the Old Girls and Staff crowded around
the bride and monopolized her, and the School gave itself up
philosophically to an orgy of ice-cream and bride's cake. Then in some
magical way the bride was spirited away to change for the journey, and
all Judith could hope for was a word at the very end or at least a
piece of the bride's bouquet which was tossed out of the carriage. But
she seemed doomed to disappointment. Miss Ashwell was gone without a
word and Judith turned and fled to her room. To her surprise she found
Elise, Miss Meredith's maid, just leaving the "Jolly Susan."
"I have put a note and parcel for you on your dressing-table, Miss
Benson," said Elise. "Mrs. Phillips said I was to be most particular to
bring it to you the minute she was gone."
"Mrs. Phillips"--Judith looked bewildered and then caught the smile on
Elise's face--"Thank you, Elise," she said breathlessly, and rushed into
her cubicle. There lay a letter and a tiny parcel. The letter first:
JUDY DEAR--
If I had had bridesmaids I would have asked you
to "stand up with me." You have been a loving,
loyal little friend, and David and I want you
to wear this little pin as a token of our
gratitude to our "messenger."
Remember I am still
Your friend,
ELIZABETH ASHWELL PHILLIPS.
For a moment a suspicious moisture blinded Judith's eyes; then curiosity
urged her to open the little white box. "What a _darling_ pin!" she
breathed as the lid flew back and disclosed three beautiful pearls
exquisitely set in a plain white gold bar. "And what a darling she
is--and if it had to be some one I'm glad it's the Major."
[Illustration: THEN CURIOSITY URGED HER TO OPEN THE LITTLE WHITE BOX]
This ever-to-be-remembered day still held another great event--the
Reunion supper. So Judith dried her eyes and went out to the lawn again
where she found the Decorating Committee of the New Girls hard at work.
It was such a warm evening that permission had been given to have the
supper out on the board tennis court. Benches, which were to be used as
tables, were being carried from Big Hall and placed in a square on the
boards; rugs and sofa cushions were placed beside them, for Form Five
intended to sit cross-legged at their feast in true Eastern fashion. The
benches or tables were decorated with pretty paper napkins, and every
new girl had brought down anything she possessed in the way of a flower
vase, and these Marjorie and Frances were filling with flowers donated
by the day girls. Judith found that she could help here; her special
task was the pasting of a label bearing the owner's name on the bottom
of each vase. Althea and Marian with three or four helpers were tying
Chinese lanterns over the electric lights which Brodie had strung for
them across the boards. Sally May and her committee were engaged in
putting the last touches to the place cards, for true to her nature
Sally May had refused to be hurried and the cards were still to be
finished.
Judith felt her heart beginning to thump uncomfortably as she thought of
the toast she had to answer. Sally May was to be toastmistress and to
Judith had been given the honour of replying to the last toast--the
toast to "The School." Judith was glad that she had written out her
little speech last week, for the last few days had been so packed full
that she had not had a moment to herself.
The tables were finished to the satisfaction of every one, and then
Judith found Nancy, and asked her if she would hear her speech. They
found a secluded spot and Judith recited a little eulogy of York Hill.
"It's tremendously good, Judy," said Nancy admiringly. "I think that
part about the experiences of the first week is awfully funny, and I
like the ending too--'Ring out the old, ring in the new'--It makes us
think of next year, doesn't it?"
"I'm afraid you're not a severe critic," said Judith, flushing with
pleasure at Nancy's honest admiration, "but I want it to be my very
best."
"Come on, you two," cried Sally May at this juncture. "Do come and see
the other tables."
They visited Nancy's table first.
"Oh, how sweet your flowers look!" said Judith, admiring the little
old-fashioned posies in their stiff paper frills.
"Mrs. Hewson sent us in several boxes from her country place, and Joyce
and Phyllis made the frills. They do look quaint, don't they?"
"What thrilling place cards!" cried Sally May. "Look, Judy--four
snapshots on each one--are they all the same, Nancy?"
"Oh, no, Jane and Marjorie collected eight or ten snaps from the girls
who had cameras and then they printed enough for every one to have four.
Every one has some view or other of the School, and every one has a
picture of one of the prefects."
"Here's a perfectly sweet one of Catherine," said Judith, pouncing on
one on the other side of the table; "here's Miss Meredith's house--and
what's this?" Squeals of delight from both of them.
"Oh, it's Josephine and Jane in their carnival costumes, and here's
Eleanor at the wicket. Oh, Nancy, what perfectly glorious place cards!
Wouldn't I just love to have one!"
"Wait till next year," said Nancy; "but I'll try to get some of the
snaps for you," she added in a lower tone as a dozen or more New Girls
came in to admire.
"Come on over and see ours now," said Judith hospitably. "I'm dying
myself to see our place cards. Sally May has kept them a great secret."
Nancy was appreciative and admired the lights and the paper napkins, and
then the place cards came in for their share of praise. Sally May's
cheeks grew pink with pleasure as Judith and Nancy became more and more
enthusiastic. Sally May was really very clever with her pencil and on
each card she had drawn a little sketch reminiscent of the New Girls'
Play at Christmas. Scrooge was there, of course, "before and after,"
Judith said laughingly as she ran from one place to another--and Tiny
Tim, and Bob Cratchit, and the boy with the turkey, and the ghost, and
Martha. Sally May had looked up several illustrated editions of the
"Christmas Carol" and Miss Carlton had given her and Florence permission
to work on the cards during Studio hours. They had taken ever so long,
but Florence had been a brick and they were finished at last. Edith and
Helen had printed in the toast list.
Judith shivered as she saw her name at the bottom of the list. How she
wished she had spent more time on her speech--how _could_ she put into
words at all what she felt about the School?
She felt this more keenly than ever before as she stood arm in arm with
Nancy and looked in through the windows of the dining-hall at the tables
prepared for the Old Girls. She heard Nancy and Sally May exclaiming
over the lovely irises which decked the long tables, but she was
thinking of the girls who had gathered from all over the wide Dominion
to visit again their old School. Judith had felt vaguely the same
emotion as she saw the Old Girls marching into Big Hall in the morning,
but she felt it now with a rush of warm feeling--School seemed
infinitely more dear, more worth while, bigger. There must be something
very big in York Hill, she thought, something very strong, to draw back
every year these hundreds of Old Girls.
Nancy was pointing out celebrities. "That must be Kathryn Fleming. Isn't
she simply stunning?" she said, as a tall, fair-haired woman in
gold-and-white brocade entered the Hall; "and there's Judge Weston and
Miss Fisken--what a gorgeous gown!--looks Chinese. I wonder who that
small, black-haired girl is! She looks as if she played the violin or
wrote plays or something."
"She probably stays at home and dusts the drawing-room," said Judith,
laughing.
"Don't be horrid," pouted Sally May. "Oh, there's Mrs. Dexter. Wouldn't
it be thrilling to be President? You'd make a good President, Judy,
you're so tall. Come on,[1]
* * * * *
They found numbers of the New Girls already standing about under the
Chinese lanterns admiring the work of the Decorating Committee, and some
of them, we regret to add, casting hungry glances at the rolls and salad
which were already on the table.
Judith found herself seated next to Sally May and opposite Frances, who
was to reply to the toast to "Our first days at York Hill."
How they enjoyed their supper! For once, to be able, while at School, to
have exactly what you desired to eat, limited only, of course, by the
amount of the tax levied on each member! Marjorie and Edith, who had
been responsible for the ordering of the food, had many congratulations
passed down to their end of the table, and Sally May felt amply repaid
for the trouble she and her committee had taken with the place cards
when she heard the exclamations of delight on all sides.
Judith, already excited and keyed up by the events of the day, and
susceptible as always to beauty in any shape or form, could hardly eat
at all. It was an exquisite June evening. The magic and charm of the
coloured lanterns, the warm splashes of colour made by the sweater coats
and cushions, the soft, rosy glow of the fading sunset, and the silver
of a young moon, all made for Judith a veritable fairy-land. If only she
hadn't to answer the toast she could be perfectly and absolutely happy.
But all too soon lemonade glasses were refilled for the toasts, and
Joyce fidgeted and cleared her throat preparatory to giving "The King."
"God save the King" was sung with a will, and then Frances proposed "Our
Country" and this was followed by "O Canada," and "My Country, 'tis of
Thee." Marjorie had brought her violin to accompany the songs, and the
thin, silvery notes and the clear, fresh voices of the singers sent
little shivery thrills of pleasure up and down Judith's spine.
Judith's toast was coming now. Quite suddenly she knew that she hadn't
been able to realize before what York Hill stood for--to herself, to all
these New Girls, and to all the Old Girls who had come back to pay a
tribute to the School they loved. Whatever could she do? She tried to
think of something else to say, but Frances Purdy was speaking now and
the bursts of laughter all about were too infectious to withstand.
Frances was describing the woes of her first week. She had been told
that she must say "ma'am" to all the Sixth-Form girls, and that new
girls must get up before the others and have their baths before the bell
rang, and she convulsed her audience by a description of her first
ecstatic experience in the tuck shop. She had been informed that the
School provided buns and milk at recess, and meeting a neighbour who was
consuming a particularly luscious-looking Chelsea bun at recess-time,
she enquired where they were to be found. She was directed to the tuck
shop in the gymnasium, where she spent some happy moments choosing buns
and cakes and sweets, all of which the presiding genius had asserted, in
answer to her enquiries, she might have at recess. Her admiration for a
School where this kind of thing was done was only equalled by her dismay
when she discovered her mistake and was requested to hand over
twenty-three cents!
And now came the last and most important toast of all, and the School
song was sung with a right good will. Judith stood up and found herself
in the grip of an emotion stronger than herself. She looked out through
the trees where she saw the lights streaming out from the dining-hall
where the Old Girls were gathered; away off to the right was Miss
Meredith's green-shaded lamp burning on her study table; in front she
could see the lights in the common room and the library; here beside her
was the gymnasium where most of her own particular friends were sitting
at another table--and all these people were bound together by one
thing--love and loyalty to York Hill.
The song was ended--they were waiting for her to speak; here and there
in the semi-darkness she could distinguish a puzzled face; had they
been waiting long? With an effort she opened her paper, no, it wouldn't
do--she crushed it in her hand and waited for a minute till her heart
should stop throbbing in her throat. Then she spoke, falteringly at
first.
"Some of us were conceited--and--selfish. We thought about ourselves
mostly when we came here last September, but York Hill has made us
despise our littleness and long to be bigger and broader; some of us
didn't know how to use our bodies or our brains, but the School has
taught us how to be true sports and how to think straight; some of us
had mighty small ideals about what things really mattered; but York Hill
has shown us how 'to play the game, and be true to the best we know.'"
Judith faltered as she remembered how many times she had failed to live
up to that best, her voice broke, and tears shone on her lashes. "Some
of us are little fools--but we're going to see to it that we don't stay
fools, we're going to be women that York Hill will be proud of when we
come back to the Old Girls' Reunion."
And then she sat down feeling limp and tired and wishing that she could
run upstairs to her room and hide her head under the pillows. But the
girls were applauding whole-heartedly.
"It's awfully kind of them," thought Judith; "they know how miserable I
feel breaking down like that--in front of everybody."
"You made the speech of the evening, Judy," said Sally May as Judith
joined her a little later in the Gymnasium for the Sixth-Form Dance.
"Don't be silly, Sally May. I failed, that's what I did, and just when I
wanted badly to say 'thank you' to the School."
"Of course she made the best speech," said Nancy, putting her arm
through Judith's, "Florence has been telling me about it." And Judith
greatly comforted went off to have the first dance with Nancy.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Transcriber's Note: Page 253, text ends in mid-sentence in original.