RUTH'S TROUBLES AND SUSY'S PREPARATIONS.
The next day the suppressed excitement in the school grew worse. It is
sad to relate, nevertheless it is a fact, that Kathleen O'Hara openly
neglected her lessons. She kept glancing at Susy Hopkins, and Susy
Hopkins once very boldly winked at her; and when she did this one of the
under teachers saw her. Now, there were certain rules in the school
which all the girls were expected to keep, and winking and making faces
were always prohibited. But the teacher on this occasion did not
complain of Susy; there were so many other things to be considered that
she thought she would let the matter pass.
Ruth Craven was in her class, and more than one girl remarked on Ruth's
appearance. Her face was ghastly pale, and she looked as though she had
been crying very hard. Alice Tennant was also in her class, and she
looked very bold and upright and defiant. Nothing ever induced Alice to
neglect her studies, for did not the scholarship depend on her doing her
very utmost? She worked just as assiduously as though nothing was
happening. But each foundation girl--at least each who had joined the
Wild Irish Girls--pressed her hand against the front of her dress, so as
really to be certain that the little locket, the dear little talisman of
her order, was safe in its place; and each girl felt naughty and good at
the same time, anxious to please Kathleen and anxious to adhere to the
rules of the school, and each girl resolved that, if she had to choose
between the school and Kathleen, she would throw the school over and
give allegiance to the queen of the society.
But Ruth's unhappy face certainly attracted attention. Cassandra Weldon
noticed it first of all. In recess she went up to her and took her hand.
"Ruth," she said, "you must come home with, me to dinner. Afterwards we
can have a good chat; and then you shall have a room to yourself in
order to work up your lessons for Miss Renshaw. But what is the matter,
Ruth? You don't look well."
"I am quite well," answered Ruth; "but I don't think I'll be able to
come back with you to-day, Cassie."
"Oh, what a pity, dear! Is your grandmother ill?"
"No; she's quite well."
"And your grandfather?"
"They are both quite well. It is--no, it's not nothing, for it is
something; but I can't tell you. Please don't ask me."
"You look very sad."
"I feel miserable."
"I wonder--" said Cassandra thoughtfully.
Ruth looked at her. There was absolute despair in the eyes generally so
clear and steadfast and bright. At this moment Kathleen O'Hara was seen
passing through the playground in a sort of triumphal progress. She was
accompanied by quite a tail of girls: one hung on her right arm, another
on her left; a third danced in front of her; and other girls followed in
a thick procession.
"I feel like a queen-bee that has just swarmed," she remarked _en
passant_ to Cassandra Weldon.
Her rude words, the impertinent little toss of her head, and the defiant
glance out of her very dark-blue eyes caused Cassandra to stamp her
foot.
"Ruth," she said, "I don't like your friend Kathleen O'Hara."
"But I love her," said Ruth.
"That is just it. She makes you all love her and then she gets you into
trouble."
"But getting into trouble for a friend doesn't make you hate that
friend," said Ruth.
"Well, I fail to understand her. I agree with Alice Tennant about her. A
girl of that sort--fascinating, handsome, dangerous--works havoc in a
school."
"Listen, Cassie," said Ruth suddenly. "A good many people will be saying
bad things about Kathleen before long, and perhaps you will be
questioned. I know that Alice Tennant has been questioned already. Will
you promise me something, Cassie?"
"You look so imploring that I'd like to promise you anything; but what
is it?"
"Do take her part when the time comes. You are certain to be asked."
"But I don't know her. How can I take her part?"
"You can say--oh, the kindest things. You can explain that she has
always been bright and gay and loving and kind."
"I don't know that she has."
"Cassie," said Ruth, "your goodness to me has been almost past
understanding; but I could hate you if you spoke against her, for I love
her."
Just then a teacher came out, touched Ruth Craven on her arm, and said:
"Will you go at once to see Miss Ravenscroft?"
"Why, have you got into a scrape, Ruth? Is that why you look so pale and
excited and distressed?" said Cassandra.
She spoke in a whisper. Ruth's eyes looked full into hers.
"God help me," she said under her breath.--"Cassie, if you knew, if you
could guess, you'd pity me."
Ruth turned away and followed the teacher into the school. A moment
later she was standing before the head-mistress.
"Now, Ruth," said that lady, "I have given you as long a time as
possible. Are you prepared to tell me what you know of the Wild Irish
Girls?"
Ruth was silent.
"I can't give you any further time. There is to be a meeting of the
governors at four o'clock this afternoon--a special meeting, convened in
a hurry in order to look into this very matter. If you don't tell me in
private what you can tell me, I shall be obliged to ask you to appear
before the governors. In that case it would be a matter of insurrection
on your part, and it is very doubtful if you would be allowed to remain
in the school."
"It is very cruel to me," began Ruth.
"My dear, the path of right is sometimes cruel. We must put this matter
down with a strong hand. Do you or do you not know where Kathleen O'Hara
and her society are to meet this evening?"
"I've been thinking it out," said Ruth; "I have had no one to consult.
If I were to tell I should be a traitor to Kathleen. I did not care for
the society, although I love her. I joined it at first--I can't quite
tell you how--but afterwards I left it. I left it entirely for my own
benefit. There is a girl in this school whom you all love and respect. I
don't suppose any other girl in the whole school bears such a high
character. Her name is Cassandra Weldon."
"Of course I know Cassandra Weldon," said the head-mistress. "She is our
head girl."
"She is; and she is not proud, and she is--oh, so kind! She offered me
a very great help. She presented to me a tremendous temptation."
"What was that, Ruth?"
Miss Ravenscroft began by being cold and indifferent; she was now really
interested.
"You can sit down if you like," she said.
But Ruth did not sit; she only put one pretty little hand on the back of
a chair as though to steady herself.
"I will tell you everything that concerns myself," she said. "I don't
mind how badly you think of me. I had joined the other foundationers as
a member of Kathleen's society. Then Cassandra presented the temptation.
She offered to give me the services of her coach, Miss Renshaw, to work
up for the Ayldice Scholarship. That means sixty pounds a year. We are
poor at home, Miss Ravenscroft. My grandfather and grandmother are very
poor people; but my father was a gentleman, and my mother was a lady,
and their great longing in life was to have me well educated. My
grandparents can scarcely afford the expense of keeping me in this
school. I know I am a foundationer and my education is free; but there
are other small expenses that have to be met. Even for me to live at
home is almost more than they can compass. You can therefore imagine the
great and wonderful delight of being able to secure a scholarship of
sixty pounds a year. I could scarcely have managed it without this help.
It was noble of Cassandra to offer it, and I--I accepted it, Miss
Ravenscroft. After that, of course, I couldn't remain in Kathleen's
society, for Kathleen and Cassandra hate each other, and I couldn't be
one moment with one girl and another with the other; so I gave up the
society and joined Cassandra. But I can't now betray those who were my
friends. I have made up my mind; I can't."
"You have really made up your mind?"
"Quite--quite; indeed I cannot."
"Do you know what this means?"
"I can guess."
"We shall be obliged to call a meeting of the governors. You will be had
up before them. If you still persist in keeping your knowledge to
yourself they will be obliged to strike your name off the school roll.
You will not then be able to get the Ayldice Scholarship. You are a
clever girl, Ruth. My dear child, the whole thing is a mistake. You do
wrong to conceal insurrection. I can tell your special friend Kathleen,
who will no longer be queen of the Wild Irish Girls, to-morrow morning,
that I have forced this confession out of you. She will not hate you;
she will forgive you. She will understand. My dear, why should you
sacrifice everything for the sake of this naughty Irish girl?"
"Because I love her, and because it would be mean," answered Ruth, and
now she burst into tears.
Miss Ravenscroft talked to her a little longer, but Ruth was firm. When
she left the head-mistress's presence she felt a certain sense almost of
elation.
"Now I don't feel so absolutely horrible," she said to herself. "Of
course I will face the governors. I will just say that I know but that I
can't tell. Yes, I believe I have done right. Anyhow, I don't feel quite
so bad as before I went to see Miss Ravenscroft."
Meanwhile Susy Hopkins was having a busy time. She went to school in the
morning, but as soon as ever lesson hours were over she flew back to her
mother's shop. There Mrs. Hopkins awaited her with a tray full of good
things.
"Now, Susy," she said, "Tom will help you, for I have got him to
promise. He will borrow a wheelbarrow, and all the things can be
stacked away tidily into it, and he will take them straight off to Aunt
Church's house with you immediately after dinner. You had best spend the
afternoon with the old lady and encourage her all you can. It is a
blessed relief to have two months of that debt wiped out, and I am very
much obliged to you, child, and I will help you all I can."
"You can't think how exciting it is, mother," said Susy. "And you know
the best of the fun is, they are making no end of a fuss in the school.
They're trying to find out all about poor Kathleen's society, in order
to put a stop to it and to call the foundationers to order; but the only
effect of the fuss is to make more and more of the girls want to join. I
saw Kathleen for a few minutes this morning, and she said that she had
twelve applications for badges already to-day, but she told the new
girls that they had best not come to the meeting to-night, as there
wouldn't be room for them. Kathleen is in the highest spirits; she is
just laughing and dancing about and looking like a sunbeam."
"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Hopkins. "I do hope it's nothing wicked. You
girls of the present day are so queer, there's no being up to half your
pranks. It would be a sorry day for me if you were banished from the
school, Susy."
"Oh, I won't be. It will be all right. Anyhow, this is delicious fun,
and I mean to go on with it. What have you got for the old lady's tea,
mother?"
"Well, now, look here. Of course, she's only going to give tea to Miss
O'Hara and Miss O'Flynn--I haven't seen that lady--and yourself and Tom.
That's about all."
"And Tom will have a pretty keen appetite," said Susy. "I'll tell Miss
Kathleen that she is to be at Aunt Church's house quite half-an-hour
before the rest of the girls, so that aunty can have her talk with her
and arrange about the almshouse, and also that Kathleen and Miss O'Hara
may have their meal in comfort. What's the grub, mother? Tell me at
once."
"Bread-and-butter," said Mrs. Hopkins, beginning to count on her
fingers, "a pot of strawberry-jam--"
"Oh, golloptious!" burst from Susy.
"A plumcake--"
"Better and better!" cried Susy.
"A little tin of sardines--some ladies are fond of a savory--"
"Yes, mother; quite right. And so is aunty, for that matter. You haven't
forgotten the water-cress, have you?"
"Here's a great bunch of it. You must turn the tap over it and wash it
as clean as clean. And what with new-laid eggs, and tea with cream in
it, and loaf-sugar, why, I think that's about enough."
"So it is, mother; and it's beautiful. But, mother, I do think Aunt
Church would relish a pound of sausages. It isn't often she has anything
of that kind to eat; she lives very penuriously, you know, mother."
"Well, I suppose I can fling in the sausages. I'll just run round to the
shop and buy them. Now then, eat your own dinner, Susy, and be quick.
Tom has eaten his, and has gone to fetch the wheelbarrow from Dan Smith,
the cartwright."
Mrs. Hopkins's programme was carried out. Tom arrived at the door with
the wheelbarrow about two o'clock. The provisions were stowed safely
away in the bottom and covered over with a piece of old matting, and
then Tom and Susy started off. Both boy and girl were in high spirits.
The day was as fine as it had been on the previous day, and Susy
chattered to her heart's content.
"My word," said Tom, "I must be in it!"
"But you can't, Tom. You are a boy. That would be the final straw. If
the ladies of the school and those awful governors were to come along
and to see a boy in the midst of forty girls, I do believe we'd all be
put in prison. You must clear out, Thomas; make up your mind to that as
soon as ever you have handed over the things to Aunt Church."
"You wait and see," said Tom. "You may suppose you are a favorite with
Aunt Church, but you are nothing at all to me; I can just twist her
round my fingers. It's a fine time I mean to have. I won't worry you at
all when you are having your commotion in the yard. For the matter of
that, I'll creep into the pig-sty with Brownie, and we can look over the
doorway."
"Oh, Tom, you are certain to be discovered. And you'll just pinch that
pig and make him squeal like anything."
Tom laughed.
"I mean to have my fun," he said; "and don't you suppose for a moment
I'm going to funk a lot of stupid, silly girls. How much do you think
I'm going to eat, miss?"
"I'm sure you are going to be horribly greedy. But perhaps when you see
Miss O'Hara and Miss O'Flynn you'll take a fit of shyness. It's to be
hoped you will."
"Shyness!" cried Tom. "What's that?"
"It's what you ought to have, Tom, and it's to be hoped you will have it
when the time comes."
"Looks like it!" cried Tom, rubbing his hands in a meaning way. "Never
frightened of anybody in the whole course of my life. Mean to have a
lark with your pretty Miss Kathleen; mean to get a sov. or two out of
that charming Miss O'Flynn; mean to coax Aunty Church to give me that
microscope when she moves across the sea to Ireland. Tell you, Susy,
I'm up to a lark, and the best of the supper goes down my throat. Now
you know, and there's no use worriting, for what can't be cured must be
endured. Tom Hopkins is part and parcel of this 'ere feast, and the
sooner you make up your mind to endure me the better."
Susy felt slightly alarmed, but she knew from experience that Tom's bark
was worse than his bite; and she trusted to Aunt Church desiring him in
a peremptory manner to go when the time approached, and to Tom's being
forced to obey her.
They arrived in good time at their destination, and Mrs. Church received
them figuratively with open arms. And now began the real fuss and the
real preparation. Tom took a brush and kicked up, as Aunt Church
expressed it, no end of a shindy. The little sitting-room was a cloud of
dust. The table, the chairs, and the little sideboard were pushed about;
everything seemed to be at a loss until Susy peremptorily took the
duster out of Tom's hand and reduced chaos to order. Then the tea was
unpacked. A very white cloth from Mrs. Hopkins's most precious store was
produced; real silver spoons--from the same source--made their
appearance; a few cups and saucers of good old china were added. The
table looked, as Tom expressed it, "very genteel." Then the provisions
were placed upon the board.
"Now we are ready," said Mrs. Church; "and I must say," she added, "that
I am pleased. I have known good genteel living in my lifetime, and I
expect that Providence means me to know it again before I die. Susy and
Tom, you are both good children. You have your spice of wickedness in
you, but when all is said and done you mean well, and I may as well
promise you both now that when I get to Ireland I will have you over in
the holidays. You will enjoy that--won't you, Thomas?"
"See if I don't, Aunt Church. And I always was your own boy, wasn't I?
And you won't mind, old lady--say you won't mind--leaving me the
microscope when you cross the briny? I'm fairly taken with that
microscope. I dream of it at night, and think of it every minute of the
day."
"Come here and look me in the eyes, Tom," said Mrs. Church.
Tom went over. Out of his freckled face there beamed two honest
light-blue eyes. His forehead was broad and slightly bulgy; his carroty
hair was cut short to his head. Mrs. Church raised her wrinkled old hand
and laid it for a minute on Tom's forehead.
"You resemble your great-uncle, my husband," she said. "He was the
cleverest man I ever came across. He had a real turn for the
microscope."
"Then, of course, you will leave it behind you; of course you will give
it to me," said Tom, quite triumphant with eagerness.
"No, my boy, that I won't. If you are a good boy, and do me credit, and
get on with your books, and do well in that calling which Providence
means you to work in, why, I may leave it to you when I am called hence,
Tom."
"There, Tom!" said Susy, coming forward. "Don't worry Aunt Church any
more. She's got plenty to think about.--Won't you turn him out now, Aunt
Church? It is time for you to be dressing, you know."
"So it is," said Mrs. Church, looking round her in some alarm. "Whatever
is the hour, child?"
"It is going on for six o'clock; and they will be here at half-past
seven at the latest."
"Very well," said Tom; "if I must go I will have a talk with Brownie."
He looked at Susy as if he meant to defy her, but Susy was too wise to
anger him at that moment. As soon as ever he was out of the house she
fetched hot water, soap and a clean towel. Having helped old Mrs. Church
with her ablutions, she produced a clean cap and a little black shawl.
The old lady said that she felt very smart and refreshed, and altogether
in a state to do honor to that dear little almshouse.
"I am quite taking to you, Susy," she said. "But I do hope you will
marshal those dreadful girls into the backyard without frightening my
hens or Brownie."
"Pigs aren't remarkable for sensitiveness," said Susy. "But I tell you
what, Aunt Church; Tom's after mischief; he means to witness all the
proceedings of dear Miss Kathleen's great society, and we oughtn't to
let him. It would do a lot of mischief if the school heard of it, and we
would most likely be expelled. He don't mind a word I say, so will you
talk to him, aunty?"
"But he can't be in the yard without being seen; you say that they are
bringing lamps and will make the place as bright as day."
"Yes, but he will be in the sty with Brownie; and he as good as said
he'd give her a pinch to make her squeal."
"Oh, indeed! I'm afraid that must be put a stop to," said the old lady.
"Send him to me this minute."
Susy went out and called her brother. There was no answer for a minute;
then Tom appeared, looking somewhat rakish and disheveled.
"Brownie and I were chumming up like anything," he said; then he pushed
Susy aside and walked into the old lady's presence.
What she said to him even Susy did not hear, but when the little girl
returned to Mrs. Church, Tom was nowhere to be seen.
"Has he gone home, Aunt Church," she asked.
"You leave the boy alone," was Mrs. Church's answer. "He's a good boy,
and the moral of his grand-uncle; and I'll leave him that microscope.
See if I don't."