BETTY POGANY’S almost lifelong experience which she had compared to
wearing her sacque wrong-side-out had given her a certain power of
concentration which was to be valuable to her all her life. But even
if she had not deliberately fixed her mind upon the solution of the
problem of getting over to Millville every Wednesday until the latter
part of June, the girl could have thought of little else. Yet, struggle
as she would, she could see but two alternatives. She might write a
note requesting that Rose and herself be excused on Wednesdays at ten
minutes before two for the rest of the year, signing Mrs. Harrow’s name
and imitating her uneven, slanting hand-writing. Or, they might simply
leave school quietly at the end of the last recitation but one at the
risk of being detected.
Betty didn’t at all like the idea of forging Mrs. Harrow’s name,
even though in the end Mrs. Harrow would understand and be grateful.
Moreover, that plan bristled with difficulties. Mr. Appleton would
be likely to express his disapproval to Mr. Meadowcroft and Mr.
Meadowcroft might quite likely go to Rose’s mother and explain how
valuable Latin Composition was--and everything would be spoiled!
Furthermore, the alternative, though not really satisfying, was not
unpromising. The class in Latin Composition was very large, the
recitation room being, according to Tommy, over-crowded because a
goodly number of the third-year class had been obliged to repeat it.
As she and Rose hadn’t been present at the first lesson, their names
wouldn’t be on the list. If Miss Cummings should miss them, she might
think that there was some reason Rose couldn’t take it--she didn’t take
algebra--and that Betty had so much extra to do helping Rose with the
lessons her mother didn’t understand about that she wasn’t taking it
either. But Miss Cummings hated big classes and wouldn’t be likely to
go poking round to search out additional pupils for the largest class
in school. And there was more than an even chance that Mr. Appleton
wouldn’t find it out. For he was busy with a class himself at the last
hour. And the South Paulding pupils who had recitations the last period
were not obliged to return to the main room at the close but could go
directly to the cloakroom and thence to the three o’clock train.
On the following Wednesday, accordingly, the girls slipped downstairs
as their class passed into the recitation room, made their exit by
the back door, and reached the station by means of a side street and
a bye-path. They accomplished the manœuver successfully, only Tommy
Finnemore being aware of their defection. They visited Dr. Vandegrift,
flew over the cross road, found Tommy waiting for them on the turnpike,
and reached home within ten minutes of their usual hour.
The next Wednesday they repeated the process, and the future looked
bright, indeed. But the third Wednesday, being stormy, presented
difficulties.
Missing the appointment was the one thing not to be contemplated. And
that was not at all because they had agreed to pay the fee in any case.
Dr. Vandegrift had explained to them on their second visit to Parrot
Street why the treatment had to be applied at least once a week--once
in seven days. Recalling to their minds the generally accepted theory
that the human body is renewed every seven years, he declared that
one who has delved deeply into the secret recesses of nature comes to
understand that everything moves by sevens, so that there is a partial
or miniature renewal every seven days. An organ as delicate as the eye
of course exhibits the effect of this law far more sensitively than
the grosser ones, but to one who studies, there is a difference even
in the structure of the brain or in the hair. Wherefore, the treatment
had to be applied at least as often as the renewal in order to maintain
equilibrium.
Betty had felt rather stunned after hearing this. The risk of losing an
appointment appalled her. Perhaps she had exhibited her distress, for
thereupon Dr. Vandegrift took occasion to felicitate them upon the fact
that Rose had just passed her fourteenth birthday, the second renewal
of her physical powers. She would therefore be far more sensitive and
responsive to treatment than she would have been at any other period.
Wet, heavy snow fell all the third Wednesday. Getting to Millville was
simple. The problem was to get home in time to escape inquiry. Even had
the girls been permitted to walk on a stormy day, the roads were so
bad that they couldn’t have counted upon getting home until well after
dark, which was more than a risk. It was certain punishment--perhaps
the forfeiting their privilege of walking on fair days. A second train
left Paulding at half-past four which they could wait for. But it was
a through train where the other was a local, and it had always been a
tradition at the South village that the school children should never
take that train except in an emergency and with special permission.
However, so far as Betty could see, there was nothing to do but to
return to Paulding and wait in the station for that.
Fortunately, Aunt Sarah would be at sewing-circle and wouldn’t know
that Betty didn’t come by the earlier train. But Mrs. Harrow would have
to be warned. She would be likely to go into hysterics if Rose didn’t
appear on that train. Betty appealed to Tommy.
“Rose and I aren’t going home to-night until the late train, Tommy,”
she said rather anxiously. “We have simply got to wait for that.
Will you please tell Rose’s mother. And O, if you could make up some
excuse so that Mrs. Harrow won’t be asking Rose why and all about it!
I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t--well, really like a case of life and
death.”
“O, I’ll do it. I’d like the practise, don’t you know. I’ll play the
spell-binder,” Tommy returned with a cheerful grin.
He would have walked in spite of the storm; but he took the train
for the first time in order to deliver the message. A truthful lad,
scorning prevarication, he glibly, and perhaps not without complacence,
informed Mrs. Harrow that some of the high school girls wanted to
practise dancing in the gym after school and Rose had stayed to play
for them. Wherefore she and Betty wouldn’t be home until the half-past
four train came in.
Mrs. Harrow, proud that Rose should be in demand, was unusually
cordial. She made Tommy come in and eat a good-sized triangle of cream
cake.
He met the girls at the station and lest Rose should make any
embarrassing remarks, explained how he had accounted for their absence.
“O, Tommy! you are so clever. You beat the Dutch!” cried Rose. But
Betty was secretly shocked and conscience-smitten. She couldn’t speak
all the way to Rose’s.
Of course, it was all for Rose--for the restoration of her sight--and
anything that worked in any small way towards that was not only
legitimate but praiseworthy. Tommy hadn’t in any way done wrong--real
wrong; but if only he hadn’t had that air of almost boastful
satisfaction! If he had looked sober, chastened, as who should say “I
suffer in the cause of righteousness,” Betty felt sure that she would
not have that distressingly uncomfortable sensation at her heart.
But after all, that could hardly have been without fuller knowledge
on Tommy’s part. And truly he was a loyal soul, breaking his proud
precedent without a word and coming home by train to bring the message.
And perhaps he had excuse for satisfaction in the manner he had carried
out Betty’s request. Moreover, he wouldn’t tell the whitest lie, the
merest fib, to save himself. He had lost hours and hours with his magic
which he could have saved by untruthfulness or evasion.