AFTER THE FUN COMES THE DELUGE
Kathleen O'Hara's nature was of the kind that rises to the top of the
mountains and sinks again to the lowest vales. She had been on the
tip-top of the hills of her own fantasy all that evening. When she ran
quickly home under the stars she began to realize what she had done She
had done something of which her mother would have been ashamed. Not for
a moment had Kathleen thought of this way of looking at her escapade
until she read the truth in the eyes of the unknown but most kind lady.
She despised herself for her own action, but she did not dread
discovery. It did not occur to her as possible that what she and her
companions had done could be known. If no one knew, no one need be at
all more sorry or at all more unhappy on account of her action.
"Poor Wild Irish Girls! they are getting into hot water," she said to
herself. "But this little bit of fun need never be told to any one."
Kathleen had let herself out of the house by the strong rope of ivy; she
meant to return to her bedroom the same way. Alice was a very sound
sleeper; it did not occur to her that Alice on that particular night
might be awake. She reached the foot of the window in perfect safety,
saw that the ivy looked precisely as it had looked when she climbed down
it, and began her upward ascent. This was decidedly more difficult than
her downward one; but she was light of foot and agile. Had she not
climbed dangerous crags after young eaglets at home? By-and-by she
reached the window-sill. How nice! the window was partly open. She
pushed it wider and got in. The room was in darkness. So much the
better. She stepped softly, reached her own bed, undressed, and lay
down. How nice of Alice to be sound asleep! Then of course it was not
Alice she saw standing on the platform looking at her with reproachful,
horrified eyes.
"I must have dreamt it," thought Kathleen. "Now all is well, and I shall
sleep like a top until the morning."
This, however, was no easy feat. Alice's quiet breathing sounded not
many feet away, and after a time it seemed to get on Kathleen's nerves.
She moved restlessly in her bed. Alice awoke, and complained of the
cold.
"The window is a little open," said Kathleen. "Shall I shut it?"
Alice made no answer. Kathleen jumped up, shut the window, and fastened
it. She then got back into bed. In the morning Alice called out to her:
"Is your headache better?"
"Had I one?" began Kathleen. Then she blushed; then she laughed; then
she said, "Oh, it's quite well."
Alice gazed steadily at her. It seemed to Kathleen that Alice's eyes
were full of something very terrible.
"Are you coming to school to-day?" asked Alice the next moment.
"Of course. Why do you ask such a strange question?"
"I shouldn't think you would wish to; but there is no accounting for
what some people can live through."
"Alice, what do you mean?"
"What I say."
"Explain yourself."
"No."
"Is there anything very awful going to happen at school?"
"You will find out for yourself when you get there."
"Dear me!" said Kathleen; "you look as if the deluge was coming."
"And so it is," said Alice.
She had finished dressing by now, and she went out of the room. The two
girls went down to breakfast. Alice's face was still full of an awful
suppressed knowledge, which she would not let out to any one; but Mrs.
Tennant was smiling and looking just as usual, and the boys were as
fond of Kathleen as was their wont. She had completely won their
immature masculine hearts, and they invariably sat one on each side of
her at meals, helped her to the best the table contained, and fussed
over her in a way that pleased her young majesty. Kathleen was very glad
that morning to get the boys' attention. She determined to sit with her
back slightly turned to Alice, in order not to look into her face. They
were about half-way through breakfast when there came a ring at the
front-door, and Cassandra Weldon's voice was heard.
Alice went out to her. The two girls kept whispering together in the
passage. Presently Alice returned to the breakfast-room, and Kathleen
now noticed that her eyes were red, as though she had just been
indulging in a bout of crying.
"What can be the matter?" she thought.
"Why, my dear Alice," said her mother, looking up at this moment, "what
did Cassandra want? And what is the matter with you? Have you had bad
news?"
"Yes, mother," answered Alice.
"But what is it, dear?"
"You will know soon enough, mother."
"That is exactly what you said to me upstairs," said Kathleen, driven
desperate by Alice's manner. "I do wish you would speak out.--Do get her
to speak out, Mrs. Tennant. She hints at something awful going to happen
at school to-day. I declare I won't go if it is as bad as that."
"It would be like you not to come," said Alice. "But I think you will
come. I don't think you will be allowed to be absent."
"Allowed!" said Kathleen. "Who is going to prevent me staying away from
school if I wish to?"
"The vote of the majority," said Alice very firmly. "Now, look here,
Kathleen; don't make a fuss. It is wrong for the girls of the Great
Shirley School to absent themselves without due reason."
"Well, I have a headache. I had one last night."
"No, you had not."
"Alice, dear, why do you speak to Kathleen like that?" said her mother.
"What is the matter with you?--Kathleen, do keep your temper.--Alice, I
am sorry something has annoyed you so much."
"It is past speaking about, mother. You will understand all too
soon.--Kathleen, it is time for us to be going."
"I am not going," said Kathleen, "so there!"
"Kathleen, you are."
"No."
"Come, Kathleen; come."
"You needn't fuss about me; I am not coming."
"Kathleen, dear, I think you ought to go. Go for my sake," said Mrs.
Tennant.
Kathleen looked up then, saw the anxiety in Mrs. Tennant's face, and her
heart relented. She was in reality not at all afraid of what might be
going to happen at school. If there was to be a fray, she desired
nothing better than to be in the midst of it.
"All right," she said, "I will go; but I won't go yet. I am going to be
late this morning. I can see by your manner, Alice, that I have got into
disgrace. Now, I can't think what disgrace I have got into, unless some
horrid girls have been prying and telling tales out of school. That sort
of thing I should think even the Great Shirley girls would not attempt.
Unless some one has been mean enough to act in that way, there is
nothing in the world to prevent my going to school, and taking my
accustomed place, and disporting myself in my usual manner. I shall get
a bad mark for being late; that is the worst that can happen to me. I am
going to be very late, so you can go on by yourself, Alice."
Alice very nearly stamped her foot. She went so far as to beg and
implore of Kathleen, but Kathleen was imperturbable.
"You are very naughty, Kathleen," said Mrs. Tennant, but Kathleen ran up
to her and kissed her.
"You and I will have some fun, perhaps, this afternoon," she said. "I
have got a lot of new plans in my head; they are all about you, and to
make you happy and not so tired. Don't be cross with me. I'll promise
that I will never be naughty again after to-day."
Mrs. Tennant said nothing more. A minute or two later Alice left the
house.
It was quite an hour after Alice had departed that Kathleen took it into
her head that she might as well stroll towards the school. On Saturdays
school was over a little earlier than other days. There was a special
class which she was anxious not to miss, for in spite of herself she was
becoming interested in certain portions of her lessons. Her depression
had now left her, and she felt excited, but at the same time irritated.
A spirit of defiance came over her. She went upstairs and selected from
her heterogeneous wardrobe one of her very prettiest and most
fashionable and most unsuitable dresses. She put on a hat trimmed with
flowers and feathers, and a sash of many colors round her waist. Over
all she slipped her dark-blue velvet jacket, and with rich sables round
her neck and wrists, she ran downstairs.
"Why, Kathleen, any one would suppose you were going to a concert," said
Mrs. Tennant.
"Ah, my dear good friend, I like to look jolly once in a way. I am
certain to get a bad mark for unpunctuality, so I may as well get it
looking my best as my worst. You don't blame me for that, do you?"
"No. Go off now, dear, and don't let me find you so troublesome again."
Kathleen started off. She ran across the common, and reached the doors
of the great school exactly one hour after she ought to have arrived. To
her amazement, she saw quite a crowd of people waiting outside, and
amongst them was Mrs. Hopkins. There were several other mothers as well,
and when they saw Kathleen they turned their backs on her, and one or
two were heard to say aloud:
"It's she who has done it."
But Mrs. Hopkins did not turn her back on Kathleen; she came close to
her, and even took her hand.
"Why are you late, miss?" she said. "But perhaps it is best. Miss
O'Hara, you won't forget my poor aunt; you will be sure to get her the
little almshouse in Ireland?"
"Yes, of course I will," said Kathleen. "Aunt Katie has written about it
already, and I will write to-night. You may tell Mrs. Church that it is
absolutely quite certain that she will get it. What is the matter, Mrs.
Hopkins? How strange you look! And all those other women--they seem
quite cross with me. What have I done?"
"Ah, miss! I keep saying to them that it is because you are Irish and
don't know frolic from serious mischief. Bless your heart, miss! it is
you that are kind. You mean kindly--no one more so--and so I have said
to them."
"But it will be a nice thing if my girl gets expelled owing to her,"
said a sour-faced woman, coming forward now and placing her arms akimbo
just in front of Kathleen.
"Is it that that every one is thinking about?" said Kathleen. She stood
still for a minute. The color left her face. She felt a wave of
tempestuous blood pressing against her heart; then it all rushed back in
a fiery color into her cheeks and in brightness to her eyes.
"And Alice knew of this," she said to herself; "and when I didn't come
to school this morning she thought that I was afraid. Afraid!--Don't
keep me, good people," said Kathleen. "Make way, please. I am sorry I am
a little late."
She walked past them all. When she got as far as the school door she
turned to Mrs. Hopkins.
"You can tell your aunt that the almshouse is safe," she said, and then
she blew a kiss to her and disappeared into the school.