IN THE "GYM."
Peggy's pillow was quite damp when she went to sleep that night. To be
sure she had been cheered by a friendly call from Bertha Haughton, but
even that could not keep the homesickness from triumphing, when she was
left alone, and the sounds in the corridor died away, and the light was
out. Home seemed so far, so endlessly far away; she felt so utterly
alone in the world! Education seemed a foolish and meaningless thing
beside the love and comfort of home. What would she not give to be able
to put out her hand and feel her sister Jean beside her, warm and
loving, her own flesh and blood!
So the pillow was damp, as I have said; but Peggy was young and healthy,
and she fell asleep after awhile, and when she woke again the sun was
up and the pillow was dry. Now she did put out her hand for Jean,
forgetting where she was; and finding nothing but a cold wall, lay
looking around her, coming back to the present. The room looked very
strange at first. "Maybe I'm not awake!" said Peggy, wisely; then she
pinched herself, and with the pinch the whole thing came back.
"Why, of course!" she said. "Oh, dear! well, here I am; and I wanted to
come, and I've been thinking about it for months, and then it goes and
is like this!" She sighed, and wondered what they were doing at home,
and at Fernley; then she became interested in her pretty room, and her
heart overflowed once more with love to her dear ones at Fernley, who
had made it so bright and charming for her. "I know what Margaret would
say!" exclaimed Peggy, raising her head from the pillow. "She would say,
'Now you are there, my dear, try to make the best of it;' and so I will!
You hear me!" These last words were spoken aloud with some severity, and
appeared to be addressed to the brush and comb, which took no notice
whatever. And then Peggy made the best of that moment, and got up.
Breakfast was another ordeal, but not so bad as the tea of the night
before; after breakfast came prayers, and then the class-room. Peggy
found herself seated at a desk, beside one of her classmates, Rose
Barclay, a pretty brunette, with rosy cheeks and bright dark eyes. In
the brief pause before study-time, the two girls made acquaintance, and
Peggy learned that theirs was the largest freshman class the school had
ever had. All the others were in the west wing, where the freshmen
belonged.
"You came late," said Rose Barclay, "and that's why you are over among
the Jews and Seas. That's what they call the juniors and seniors; I've
learned so much already!" she said, laughing. "They seem to have
nicknames for everything and everybody in this place."
"Yes!" said Peggy. "Even the rooms are named!" and she told of Vanity
Fair and the Owls' Nest.
"Corridor A?" asked Rose Barclay. "Oh, they must be Jews. That is
Judea, I am pretty sure; and the Senior Corridor is the Mediterranean.
It's awfully silly, isn't it? and yet it's funny, too. I suppose we
shall get into the swing of it after awhile. You homesick?"
Peggy nodded.
"So'm I! Cry last night?"
Peggy nodded again.
"So did I! but not so much as the girl next door to me. My! she must
have cried about all night, I should think. I woke up two or three
times, and she was crying every time, and I heard her sniffing in her
bath this morning."
"Why didn't you go in and try to cheer her up?" demanded Peggy, rather
fiercely.
Rose Barclay stared. "Oh, I couldn't do that! why, I've never spoken to
her; it was that queer little piece that sat next to you. Besides, she
looks as if she'd die if any one spoke to her."
The school was called to order, and Peggy soon forgot homesickness and
everything else in the keen joy of mathematics.
She had chosen the scientific course--there were three courses in the
school--in order to get as much of practical and as little of literary
knowledge as might be. Geometry was her delight, and it was geometry
over which she was bending now.
Most of the teachers at Pentland School expected little of the new pupil
from Ohio. The written examinations that Peggy had passed had caused
many a head-shaking. The history teacher sighed; the gentle mistress of
English literature groaned, and said, "Why must this child come here?"
Only Miss Boyle, the mistress of mathematics, had nodded her head over
the papers. "Here's a girl who knows what she is about!" she said.
Accordingly, when Peggy entered class this morning, she was surprised at
the cordial greeting she received from the bright-eyed lady at the
central desk; and an indefinable sense of being at home and among
friends stole gradually over her, as she wrestled with one delightful
problem after another.
Rose Barclay, at her side, was biting her pencil and twisting her
pretty forehead into hard knots, and making little progress; but Peggy
had forgotten her existence. The period passed like a moment, as theorem
after theorem was disposed of.
"Let EDF and BAC be two triangles, having the angle E equal to the angle
B, the angle F to the angle C, and the included side EF to the included
side BC; then will the triangle EDF be equal to the triangle BAC?"
"Of course it will!" Peggy drew triangles in swift and accurate
demonstration. "Put the side EF on its equal BC, and let the point E
fall on B, and the point F on C. Then, you see, of course--"
"I don't see how any one is ever to do this!" murmured her neighbour, in
despair. "Why! why, you've done yours. Oh, just let me see, won't you? I
never can work it out in the world, so do let me copy yours!"
Peggy reddened to the tips of her ears. "Do you--can you--are we allowed
to do that?" she stammered.
"Oh! Just as you please!" said Rose Barclay, coldly. "I thought you
might be willing to oblige me, that's all. It's of no consequence!"
"Oh! But you don't understand!" whispered Peggy, eagerly; but Rose had
turned away, and paid no heed to her; and Miss Boyle tapped with her
pencil and said, "Young ladies! No whispering in class, if you please!"
In a few minutes a bell rang, and all the girls sprang up in great
relief; geometry was not generally popular, and now came the "gym" hour,
dear to all. Peggy turned at once to her neighbour, sure that she would
be able to explain everything to the satisfaction of both. To her
amazement and distress she met a look so cold and hostile that it seemed
to freeze the words on her lips.
"Miss Barclay!" she said, imploringly. "You didn't understand me, indeed
you didn't. I should be perfectly delighted to help you, of course I
should, only I thought it might be against the rules. Of course, I might
have known you would know what is allowed. I'm awfully sorry!"
Rose Barclay hesitated; her face seemed to soften for a moment; then it
hardened again, and another change came over it which Peggy did not
comprehend.
"I don't know what you mean!" she muttered. "Please excuse me, I am in a
hurry." She was gone, and Peggy, turning in great distress, found Miss
Boyle standing at her elbow. Had she heard? Peggy was sure she could not
have heard, for there was no look of surprise or of anything peculiar in
her pleasant face.
"You like geometry, Miss Montfort?"
"Oh, yes, I love geometry! Oh, please, are we allowed to help each
other, Miss Boyle?"
"Certainly not!" said Miss Boyle, quietly. "Not upon any account. You
can see for yourself that there would be no use in a girl's taking
geometry if she cannot do the work herself."
"Yes, I see! I thought so, only--thank you very much. Do you--shall I go
now?"
She looked around, and was startled to see that all the other girls had
disappeared, and she was alone with the teacher.
Miss Boyle smiled, and her smile was so friendly that it warmed poor
Peggy's heart.
"Yes, you may go now," she said; "but I shall hope to see something of
you, Miss Montfort. If you will come to my room some evening, I will
show you some pretty problems that are not in the text-books."
With this, the highest compliment she could pay a pupil, Miss Boyle went
on her way; and Peggy, after wandering through two or three deserted
class-rooms, and breaking in upon a senior committee-meeting of a highly
private nature, and walking into a pantry, found herself at last in the
gymnasium.
This was a lofty and spacious room, fitted with every possible appliance
for gymnastic exercises. Peggy's eyes brightened as she gazed about her,
at the rope-ladders, the parallel bars, the rings and vaulting-horses
and spring-boards. If this were not Paradise, Peggy did not know what
was, that was all.
Some of the girls were already arrayed in blouse and full trousers, and
were taking their place in ranks, under the eye of an alert, graceful
young woman in a pretty dark blue suit. Others were hurrying up from
some apartment on a lower floor, and from the stairway came a hum of
voices which showed that others were still making ready.
Bertha Haughton, in crimson blouse and black trousers, hurried up to
Peggy.
"Here you are!" she cried. "I have been trying to find you. Where are
your gym things? Haven't got any? Oh, how too bad!"
"I didn't know!" said poor Peggy. "It didn't say in the programme, did
it? Can't I do anything without them? Oh, dear."
Her face, so bright a moment before, clouded so instantly with
disappointment and mortification, that the experienced junior could
hardly repress a smile.
"My dear! my dear!" she cried. "Do wait till I tell you. You can wear
the Snowy's things. She hasn't come back yet, and you can wear them just
as well as not till she comes."
"The Snowy?" repeated Peggy. She remembered vaguely that she had heard
the name, but it meant nothing to her in her trouble.
"Yes, my chum, the Snowy Owl. I'm the Fluffy one, don't you remember?
The Snowy is a bit taller than you, but that is no matter; you can wear
them perfectly well, I tell you. Come along, and I'll get you into
them."
Peggy hung back, protesting faintly against appropriating the clothes of
a person she had never seen; but finally she yielded to Bertha's
vigorous pulls, and followed her down a winding stair, into a narrow
room filled with a hubbub of girls in every stage of dressing and
undressing. Viola Vincent fluttered up to her (it is difficult to
flutter in a gymnasium suit, and only Viola's supremely butterfly
quality enabled her to do it), a charming vision of pale blue, with a
profusion of tiny brass buttons twinkling wherever a button could be
put.
"Here you are!" she cried, airily. "I haven't seen you for an age. I've
been telling everybody about you, the V. V's vis-a-vis. It sounds so
quaint, doesn't it? I adore quaintness. How do you like my new suit,
Fluffy? Isn't it too cute for anything? This is the first time I've worn
it; I think it is too perfectly sweet to live in, don't you?"
"I hope not!" said Bertha, laughing. "We should be sorry to have you
pass away, Vanity, because your dress is too sweet."
"No, but really!" continued Viola, earnestly. "Do I exaggerate, Fluffy?
_Isn't_ it the sweetest thing you ever saw? I ask because I want to
know, you know!"
Bertha's only reply was to pull her pink ear good-naturedly, and then
dive head-foremost into a locker.
"You find the Fluffy quaint?" said Viola to Peggy. "Yes? she is quaint,
but delicious! So is the Snowy! I simply could not exist without them;
they are the guiding stars of the corridor, don't you know? What are you
about, Fluffy? What are you doing with the Snowy's togs? She has not
come back, no!" clasping her hands in ecstasy. "_Don't_ tell me the
Snowy has come back, Fluff!"
"I certainly won't!" said Bertha, coolly. "She isn't coming back till
day after to-morrow. Peggy Montfort is going to wear her things till her
own are ready, that's all. Don't excite yourself too much, Vanity; it'll
take the colour out of your hair."
"No! _Do_ you think so?" replied Viola; "really? ah! here's V., ready at
last. What I have to endure, V., waiting while you prink, no tongue can
tell. Ta, dears, come up soon!" and she fluttered away, arm in arm with
her chum.
"Is she always like that?" asked Peggy, bewildered.
"Who? Vanity? Oh, yes! there's no possible harm in Vanity; she is really
the best hearted creature in the world. The other, though,--well, you
want to be a little on your guard with Vivia. Oh, we are the best
friends in the world, of course; only, her temper is a little uncertain
at times, and it's just as well to know about it. There! why, the
trousers fit you to perfection!" The trousers, as wide as the Flying
Dutchman's, certainly fell comfortably enough about Peggy's stout
knees.
"Now for the blouse! I'll put it over your head!"
A silent but breathless struggle followed, from which Peggy emerged
panting and crimson, but victorious. "Oh, I do hope she--your
chum--won't mind!" she cried. "I am so afraid I shall get them dirty!"
for it was a whim of the Snowy Owl's to wear a white gym suit, and it
was as fresh as if it were just out of the tub, as indeed it was.
"Oh, that is no matter! She washes them every week; she likes to wash;
it's one of her accomplishments. Come along now!"
They ran up-stairs, and found the class just forming in ranks. A gesture
bade them fall into line with the rest, and Peggy stood with her toes on
a chalk mark, waiting the word of command.
It came. "Left foot forward--fall out!" At the command every girl put
out her left foot as far as she could, and flung her whole weight
forward on it. Peggy did the same, and fell on her nose with a
resounding crash. The class giggled, but were sharply checked by the
teacher.
"We will try this once more. Try to balance the body carefully! Take
time! Once more! Left foot forward--fall out!"
Again the line dropped forward with one motion; and again our poor Peggy
fell on her nose. This time the nose protested in its way, and bled;
great crimson drops fell on the white plumage of the Snowy Owl. Almost
crying with distress and mortification, Peggy felt for her handkerchief.
Alas! she was not used to trousers, and no pocket could she find, though
there was one, and her handkerchief was in it. What should she do? She
was just about to make a bolt for the stairs, when a handkerchief was
thrust into her hand. She clapped it to her suffering nose, and looked
gratefully at her left-hand neighbour in the ranks. The girl nodded
slightly, and said, "All serene! better ask leave to retire. Hold arms
over head, stop it!" She was a slender girl, with a pensive face and
melancholy blue eyes. Her hair was plainly parted, Madonna-fashion, and
there was something remote and old-world about her whole look and air.
"Oh, thank you!" murmured poor Peggy. "You're awfully kind!" She hoped
the tiresome bleeding would stop on the instant, but it did not; she was
obliged to ask leave to go down-stairs; and receiving it, dashed down
headlong, and cannoned violently against Vivia Varnham, who had gone
down for something she had forgotten.
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" gasped Peggy. "I'm--awfully clumsy--"
"I think you are!" said the other, with a flash of her hazel eyes.
"Perhaps you'll let me pass now, please, before you make another
exhibition of yourself." She went on, with a scornful toss of her head.
Poor Peggy! her tears flowed fast over the friendly handkerchief. "I
wish I was dead!" she sobbed. "I wish I had never come to this horrid,
odious place, where everybody is so hateful. And I can't hold up my arms
when I have to hold this to my nose all the time."
"Quite so!" said a quiet voice behind her. The sad-looking girl took her
hands and held them straight up in one of her own, the other keeping the
handkerchief in position. No word was spoken, but in five minutes the
bleeding was stopped.
"Basin--water!" said the stranger. "Don't mention it!" as Peggy tried to
falter her thanks. And she was gone.
Peggy waited till she felt sure of herself and her nose. Then she spoke
severely to herself, and asked what Uncle John would say to such
behaviour. "_Everybody_ isn't hateful!" she said. "And anyhow, there are
some things there that I can do, if I haven't learned this trick. I
won't give up till I've gone up that rope."
Her eye had been caught by a stout rope dangling from the ceiling. This
was in her own line, and she felt that if she could redeem herself in
her own eyes, she should not care so much about all those other laughing
eyes. And yet, perhaps she thought more about those eyes than she was
aware of, for our Peggy was very human.
This time fortune favoured her. As she emerged from the lower regions, a
girl was just trying to climb the rope; in fact, there were three ropes
hanging side by side, and the climbing of them was part of the regular
exercise. She sought Bertha, who was most sympathetic, not having been
near enough to help Peggy.
"Climb the rope? Oh, you'd better not try that, Peggy! it takes a lot of
practice. Why, I've been here two years, and I can't get to the top yet.
Really, it's very hard. Let's come and swing on the ring, if you are
quite sure about your poor nose."
But Peggy did not want to swing on the rings, nor to do anything else
that Bertha proposed; she wanted to climb that rope, and she meant to do
it; the prairie blood was roused.
"Well, I'll ask Miss Brent," said good-natured Bertha, finding her
determined. "You say you have had some experience in climbing? Perhaps
she'll let you go a little way up."
Miss Brent, interrogated, came and looked Peggy over carefully; felt her
muscles, asked her a few questions, and then said, "You may have the
next turn, Miss Montfort."
[Illustration: "UP THEY WENT, HAND OVER HAND."]
The girl on the rope next her was having a sad time of it. She swung
this way and that; her legs waved wildly in the air; and at length
she came down "all abroad," having only ascended a few feet. At the same
moment, the girl on the next rope dropped, so that two were left
unoccupied. Peggy advanced and laid her hand upon one rope, just as
Vivia Varnham took possession of the other. On the third, the pensive
girl with the Madonna braids was swinging easily, half-way up to the
ceiling; she twisted her feet around the rope, and, so resting, observed
the progress of the other two.
Up they went, hand over hand. Vivia Varnham gave a glance of disdain
when she saw who her rival was. She was light and agile, and did not for
an instant think that this heavy, clumsy creature could make any headway
against her. She went up lightly and easily, but somehow the heavy,
clumsy creature managed to keep abreast of her; was even gaining upon
her, drawing up, up, above her head. Vivia put on a spurt, and passed
Peggy, climbing very swiftly--for a moment; then the ache in her wrists
compelled her to slacken her rate of speed, and the thickset figure came
up, up, steadily and surely. Truth to tell, though Peggy Montfort was
awkward, she was as strong as a steer. Her weight was not fat, but sheer
bone and brawn; and her one hundred and forty pounds were easy enough
for her to carry, even up a rope thirty feet long. But Vivia Varnham,
with all her lightness and quickness, had little strength in her wrists.
They ached painfully, but she would not give up. Her face flushed, her
breath came in distressful gasps, she struggled on and up. They were
more than half-way up; they had passed the quiet observer, swinging
comfortably with her feet twisted in her rope. "Better go down, V.!"
said the girl with the sad eyes. "She's too many for you!"
Vivia shook her head with an angry gesture. Her eyes swam, the pain in
her wrists was unendurable; but she set her teeth, and struggled on,
till from below came the voice of Miss Brent, calm and authoritative.
"Come down, Miss Varnham! You have gone far enough."
Most unwillingly, with sullen face and fluttering breath, Vivia slid to
the floor. She expected, everybody expected, to hear the order repeated
for the benefit of the newcomer, the audacious freshman who had ventured
upon junior ground; for the rope-climbing was not generally attempted
till the third year. But Miss Brent kept her eyes on Peggy, and smiled,
and made no sign.
Peggy was enjoying herself immensely. She was not a swift climber, but
there was no tiring her, and this, as she said to herself, was "great!"
She wished Margaret could see her! No! It would frighten dear Margaret.
Rita, then! Rita loved feats of skill; probably she could climb far
better than she, Peggy, could; Rita was so light, so graceful, so
fearless.
A shout rang from below. Something passed her on the next rope, light
and swift as a bird in flight. She could almost touch the ceiling now;
she looked up; there, at the very top of the next rope, was her friend
of the dressing-room, gazing at her with melancholy blue eyes, and
holding out a slender hand.
"Shake!" said the girl with the Madonna braids.