ON SPY HILL.
Things were quietly managed at Pentland School; there was never any
outcry, any open flurry of excitement and gossip. Many of the scholars
never knew why five girls left school in the middle of the term. The
seniors who did know shrugged their shoulders, and said it was a pity to
have such things take the girls' minds off their parts--looking at
everything from the point of view of Senior Dramatics. The juniors
looked pretty sober for a week, even the sophomore spirits were dashed
for the time. But nothing was said openly, and after awhile the scared
whisperings died away, and work and play went on as usual. Poor little
Viola Vincent mourned deeply the loss of her mate. She herself had
escaped with a severe reprimand, having gone to Miss Russell to plead
Vivia's cause, and confessing frankly her own share in the escapade.
Vivia was anything but an agreeable girl; but she and Viola had grown up
together, next-door neighbours and companions from their cradles, and
Viola was lost without her. She threw herself upon Peggy for
consolation, and Peggy found herself in the curious position of
protecting and comforting a junior, and a girl two years older than
herself. Viola would come in, and, curling herself up in the corner of
Peggy's divan, declare that she had come for a good cry. A few sniffs
would follow, and then perhaps actual tears, but more likely a river of
speech.
"It's no use, Peggy! I cannot live! I simply can _not_ live on in this
way. I know V. was horrid to you--yes, she was! Oh, I am not blind, you
know, if I am a goose! She was horrid to most of the girls, I know she
was, but she was good to me, generally, and it didn't matter much if she
wasn't. I was used to her little ways, and I didn't mind. And I have
always had her, you see, all my life, and I don't--see--how I _can_ get
along without her. I wanted to be expelled, too! Yes, I did! that was
why I told Miss Russell about my being there and all; I thought she
would be sure to send me away, too. I think it was very unjust of her
not to, I'm sure."
"Viola, don't talk so! You had nothing to do with the--the attack, or
any violence. You would have gone away quietly when I said you could not
use the window; you know you would."
"How do you know I would have? I might have torn you limb from limb,
Peggy, for all you can say. What are you laughing at?"
For this statement, coming from a small person with a grasp about as
powerful as that of a week-old kitten, was too much for the stalwart
Peggy's composure.
"You don't know what I am when I am roused!" Viola went on. "I'm awful,
simply awful!" And she opened her blue eyes wide, and looked like a
tragic baby.
"But--my! Peggy, how you did look that night! I wonder this whole room
didn't turn blue with fright. I was frightened almost to death; I wonder
I'm alive to-day. Well, wasn't it too perf'ly awful for anything, the
whole thing?"
"It was pretty bad!" Peggy assented. "But it's all over now, Viola; I
would try not to dwell on it too much, if I were you. Of course I know
how you must miss Vivia, and I'm dreadfully sorry about it all. But just
think how dear the Owls have been to both of us."
"Haven't they?" cried Viola, drying her tears, her eyes brightening.
"Aren't they too perfectly lovely for anything, the Owls? I think the
Snowy is just the sweetest thing that ever lived in this world, don't
you?"
"I think she's one of them," said honest Peggy. "But I'm just as fond of
Bertha. She was my first friend here, my very first."
"Oh, how funny you were that first day, Peggy!" cried Viola, laughing
now, her sorrows forgotten for the time. "You were too killing! I
thought I should have died, when you went tumbling all over yourself.
You _were_ killing, weren't you, now?"
"You seem to have survived!" said Peggy, good-naturedly. It was not
pleasant to be laughed at, but no one ever minded Viola.
"Where are you going?" demanded Viola, as Peggy got out her "Tam" and
pinned it on with a resolute air. "Peggy, you are not going out, just
when I have come to see you? I was so lonely, and I wanted some one to
talk to; and now the minute I come, you get up and go away. I must say I
don't think you are very polite." And Viola pouted and looked like a
child of six instead of a girl of sixteen.
"Viola!" said Peggy. "You have been here an hour and a half, do you know
it? and I must have a walk; I haven't been outside the door this
afternoon. Put on your Tam and come along with me! You'd feel ever so
much better if you would take more exercise."
"Oh, no, I shouldn't! and I cannot see what you want to be walk,
walking, all the everlasting time for, Peggy Montfort. What's the use of
it?"
"The use?" cried Peggy, with sparkling eyes. "Why, there's all the use
in the world. In the first place, it makes you strong and healthy, and
keeps you well."
"Oh! but gym does that! We have to do gym, and I don't mind that; in
fact it's rather fun, only it spoils your figure dreadfully."
"But gym isn't enough, if you don't take any other exercise," said
Peggy. "And besides, V., just think of the _joy_ of walking and running.
Why, you see all the things growing, and breathe the air, and--and--hear
the birds, and the water, and--well, I shouldn't want to live if I
couldn't walk, that's all. Come along, and you'll see!"
"Oh, I can't, I'm too tired."
"You are tired, because you have been sitting in the house all day. And
you are pale, and--"
"No! am I?" cried Viola, running to the glass. "I'm so glad! I just love
to be pale, it's so interesting. It makes my eyes look larger, too,
doesn't it, Peggy? They do look very large to-day, don't they, Peggy?"
Peggy sighed. "You do discourage me, Viola!" she said. "Well, good-bye.
I must go. The others are waiting for me."
"What others? Who else is going? What are you going to do?"
"Why, I told you! We are going to walk."
"Yes, but what _for_? Are you going to the shops, or going to see
somebody? I can't see _any_ sense in just stupid walking, without any
object. And you didn't tell me who was going."
"You didn't give me a chance. Well, Rose Barclay is going, and two other
freshmen whom I don't think you know, Clara Fair and Ethel Bird--and
Lobelia Parkins."
"Peggy Montfort! why _do_ you go with that little animal? I've told you
before that I could not, for the honour of the corridor, have you seen
with a creature that looks like that. Let her go with Colney Hatch if
she wants company; they'd be two of a kind."
"Colney Hatch is one of the brightest girls in school, Miss Cortlandt
says so!"
"Very likely; but that doesn't make her a fit associate for you, my
Veezy-vee. You never seem to understand about different sets. I want you
to belong to the smart set, and you won't."
"Do the Owls belong to it?" demanded Peggy, turning red.
"Peggy, how dense you are! The Owls don't belong to any set because they
won't. Of course they could belong to any set they pleased."
"Does Grace Wolfe belong to it?"
"The Goat? Why, she used to; but she's so awfully queer, you know; the
Goat has grown too awfully queer for anything. She stays by herself
mostly, ever since she cut loose from the Gang. And Vivia is gone," she
wailed, "and Blanche Haight,--Blanchey was not very nice, but her gowns
fitted like a seraph's, and the style to her hats was too perfectly
killing for anything, you know it was. And now there isn't any one, not
a single soul, that I care to talk to about clothes. I've had my pink
waist done over, and it's simply dandy--the sweetest thing you ever saw
in your life; and nobody cares. I am so unhappy!"
"I haven't seen that new hat you told me about!" said Peggy, with a
happy stroke of diplomacy. If any one had told Margaret Montfort that
her Peggy would ever develop a talent for diplomacy she would have
opened her eyes wide indeed; but one learns many things at
boarding-school.
Viola brightened at once.
"No! didn't I?" she cried, her whole manner changing. "Would you like to
see it, Peggy? It is really too cute for anything, it just _is_! What
makes you shut up your mouth that way?"
"Oh, nothing! Well, yes, it is something. You won't mind if I tell you?
Well, I used to say 'cute,' and Margaret showed me what bad English it
was, and how silly it sounded. So I made up my mind to stop it, and
every time I wanted to say it I screwed up my mouth and counted ten.
Just the same with 'elegant.' I've broken myself of that, too, but it
was hard work."
"Elegant! simply elegant!" repeated Viola, thoughtfully. "The Goat won't
let you say that, either, or the Owls. What's the use of being so fussy?
besides, elegant is a real word, they can't say it isn't, so now!"
"Oh! of course it is, and it has its real use. You can speak of an
elegant dress, or an elegant carriage, and then it's all right; but I
used to say I had had an elegant time, don't you know? and talk about
elegant cake, and all that kind of thing. And when once you have learned
better, it does sound awfully silly."
"Well, they make just as much fuss about 'awful,' and there you are
saying that, and you say it all the time."
"I know!" said poor Peggy, hanging her head. "I know I do, though I try
awfully hard not to. There! that's the way it is. It does seem as if I
couldn't get over that, but I'm going on trying. And if you don't get
your hat this minute, V., I shall go without you. I can't wait any
longer. It's awfully--it's _very_ late."
"Why, I'm coming, as fast as I can; how impatient you are, Peggy! You
aren't half as fond of me as I am of you, or you would not be in such a
hurry to get away to that little fright. There, here it is! Now isn't
that dandy, simply dandy? I do think it is too perf'ly sweet for
anything!"
It was a pretty hat, and Viola certainly looked charming in it. She was
so pleased with her appearance that she could not resist the temptation
of "showing off" to the other girls; so she followed Peggy down to the
lawn, where a little group was already gathered. At sight of a junior,
even so unformidable a junior as Viola Vincent, poor little Lobelia
Parkins shrank into a small knotted heap of misery. Through Peggy's
intercession, Rose Barclay and the two other freshmen had been kind to
her, and had agreed to let her share their walks, which they took now
semi-weekly under Peggy's leadership. None of them cared for her, or
felt much interest in her, but they did care for Peggy Montfort, partly
because she was the strongest girl in the class, partly because of the
fame that had accrued to her since her exploit in resisting and breaking
up the famous Gang; but mostly, perhaps, because everybody felt and said
that Peggy Montfort was "all right," which in schoolgirl parlance meant
that she was a cheerful, kindly, and right-minded girl. So, though her
chief friends were still among the juniors, she was well known and well
liked in her own class.
Peggy took Lobelia's hand, and drew it resolutely through her arm.
"We'll lead the way!" she cried. "Rose and Viola, you two come next, and
Clara and Ethel bring up the rear. How's that?"
All agreed to the arrangement; and the six started off in high spirits.
"Where are we going to-day?" asked Rose Barclay. "Don't kill us, Peggy!
I haven't got over being stiff yet, from the last tramp. It was jolly,
though."
"It was splendid!" chimed in Ethel Bird. "Why, I had no idea what pretty
places there were about here. Shall we go to the woods again?"
"I thought of going up Spy Hill!" said Peggy. "It isn't very high, and
there's a lovely view from the top."
"Oh, I never can get as far as that!" cried Viola, aghast. "You said a
little walk, Peggy, and that is miles and miles, I know it is. Oh, I
think I'll go back."
"Oh, don't!" cried Rose, in a tone of heartfelt interest that won
Viola's susceptible heart. "It isn't very far, truly it isn't; and I
want to ask you where you got that hat. It is too perfectly lovely for
anything! I've got to have a new hat, and I do wish--"
"My dear!" cried Viola, dimpling all over with pleasure, "I'll tell you
all about it. You see--"
There was no more trouble with Viola. Peggy chuckled, and started off at
a round pace, the others following.
The two Owls, standing at their window with arms intertwined, just
thinking of taking a little flutter in the cool of the afternoon, looked
after them with friendly eyes.
"What's the matter with Peggy Montfort?" said the Fluffy to the Snowy.
"_She's_ all right!" said the Snowy to the Fluffy. And then they looked
at each other sternly, and shook their heads in grave rebuke. "My dear,"
they said both together, "we are surprised!"