TZARITZA AS DISCIPLINARIAN
Several days had passed since the riding lesson. It was Saturday evening
and study period, which began at five and lasted until six-thirty, was
ended. Dinner was served at seven on Saturdays and from eight until ten
o'clock the girls were perfectly free. A group was gathered in Stella
Drummond's big room and preparations for a fudge party, after the hearty
dinner had "somewhat shaken down," were under way. Stella's chafing dish
was the most up-to-date one in the school, and Stella's larder more
bountifully supplied than the other girls. Indeed, Stella never lacked
for anything so far as the others could discover and had a more liberal
supply of pocket money than is generally allowed. Mrs. Vincent had
expressed doubts as to the wisdom of it when Stella's father mentioned
the sum she was to have, but he had laughed and answered:
"Oh, nonsense, my dear Madam! At home she would have double if she
wished it. She knows how to use it, and remember she is all I have to
spend my income upon. Don't let that little matter worry you. Just give
all your attention to polishing her up a bit and teaching her the newest
fol-de-rols. Living all over the country is not the best thing for a
young lady, I have found out. It may be conducive to physical
development, but it leaves something to be desired in educational
lines."
So Stella, though eighteen, and supposed to be a senior, was really
taking a special course in which junior work predominated. She had
selected her own room, it had been furnished exactly as she wished, and
it certainly resembled a bridal apartment more than a school-girl's
bed-room. A large alcove and private bath opened from it, and a balcony
which commanded a beautiful view of Stony Brook Park made it luxurious
to a degree. In this room, lighted by softly shaded electric drop
lights, a cheery log fire blazing upon the shining brass andirons, the
girls had gathered. Stella was arranging her electric chafing dish upon
its little marble stand. Peggy was opening a box of shelled pecan nuts,
Polly measuring out the chocolate, and the other girls were supplying
all needful, or needless, advice concerning the _modus operandi_.
Tzaritza, now a most privileged creature indeed, had stretched her huge
length before the hearth, looking for all the world like a superb white
rug, and Rosalie Breeze was flat upon her stomach, her arms around the
dog's neck, her face nestled in the silky hair. Juno Gibson reclined
gracefully in a luxurious wicker chair, its gorgeous pink satin cushions
a perfect background for her dark loveliness--which no one understood
better than Juno herself. Helen Doolittle (most aptly named) was gazing
in simpering adoration upon Stella from a pillow-laden couch, and now
commented:
"Oh, Stella, what adorable hands you have. How do you keep them so
ravishingly white and your nails so absolutely faultless? I could cover
them with kisses, sweetheart."
Stella's laugh held wholesome ridicule of this rhapsody and she replied:
"Don't waste your emotion upon _my_ hands. Just save it until somebody
comes along who wished to cover _your_ hands with kisses--I mean some
one in masculine attire. For my part, I don't think I'd care to have a
girl try that experiment with me."
"Have you ever had a _boy_ cover your hands with kisses?" asked Helen
eagerly, starting from her position.
Stella, raised her head, looked at the simple, inconsequent, little
doll-faced blonde and with an odd smile said:
"Well, I could hardly have called him a boy."
"Oh, was he a man? A real _man_? Did he wear a moustache? Just think,
girls, of having a man's moustache brush the back of your hand as he
covered it with kisses. Oh, how terribly thrilling. Do tell us all about
it, Stella! I knew the moment I met you you must have had a romantic
history. Did your father find it out, and what did he say?"
"Yes, I told him all about it and he laughed at me," and again Stella
laughed her mystifying laugh.
"Oh, I'd just _adore_ having such a ravishing experience as that," said
Lily Pearl Montgomery from the window seat, "but how can one have any
thrilling experiences in a stupid old school! Now there are Polly and
Peggy; think of all they could tell us if they only would. You girls
must be fairly bursting with the most wonderful stories if you'd only
come down off your pedestals and tell us. _I_ think you're both too
tight for words. And all those darling cadets' photographs in your room.
You needn't try to make _me_ believe that 'Faithfully yours, Bubbles'
and 'Your chum, Ralph,' and 'For my Pilot, Captain Polly, Wheedles,' and
'For Peggy Stewart, Chatelaine, Happy,' don't mean a whole lot more."
"What's that?" asked Peggy, catching her name and looking up from her
occupation. She caught Polly's eyes which had begun to snap. Polly had
also been too busy to pay much attention at first, but she had heard the
concluding sentences. She turned and looked at Lily with exactly the
expression upon her sixteen-year-old face which had overspread it years
before when the thirteen-year-old Polly had surprised the sentimental
"Thusan Thwingle" exchanging osculatory favors with "one of thothe
horrid boyths" in the basement of the high school at Montgentian. Then
she said with repressed vehemence:
"I only wish our boys could have heard you say that. If you wouldn't
come in for the running of your life my name's not Polly Howland. You'd
suit some of the boys back yonder, but not our bunch. Of all the hot
air! Stella, is your chafing-dish ready?"
Peggy had colored a rosy pink. She lacked Polly's experience with other
girls.
Piqued by Polly's superior rebuff, Helen came to the inane Lily Pearl's
support in a manner she knew would hit loyal Polly's most vulnerable
spot:
"Look at Peggy's face! Look at Peggy's face! Which is the particular He,
Peggy? Polly may be able to put up a big bluff, but your face is a dead
giveaway."
"I don't think you would be able to understand if I told you. Middie's
Haven and the 'bunch' are just a degree too high up for you to reach,
I'm afraid, and there's no elevator in Wilmot Hall," answered Peggy
quietly.
Polly laid down the things she was holding for Stella, dusted her hands
of chocolate crumbs by lightly rubbing her fingers together, and walked
quietly over to the couch. Helen looked somewhat alarmed and drew back
among her pillows.
Polly, never uttering one word, bent over, swooped up Helen, pillows and
all and holding her burden as she would have held a struggling baby,
walked straight out of the room and down, the corridor to her own room,
the shouts, screams and laughs of the girls following her. Helen was
absolutely speechless at the audacity of the act. Bumping her door
together by the only available means left her, since both arms were
occupied, Polly then plumped Helen, now almost ready to resort to
hysterical tears, upon a wooden shirt-waist box and placing herself in
front of her, struck the attitude of a little red-headed goddess of
vengeance as she said:
"Helen Doolittle, you may run _me_ all you've a mind to--it doesn't mean
a thing to me; I'm used to it; I've been teased all my life and I'm
bomb-proof. But Peggy Stewart's made of different stuff. She hasn't been
with girls very much, and never with a _silly_ one before. Give her
time and she'll understand them a good sight better than they'll ever
understand her. And the boys she has known are not the kind who are ever
likely to want to know _you_. So there's not much use wasting time
explaining things. But I tell you just this, I won't stand for Peggy
being run even a little bit, and you can circulate that bit of
information broadcast. She's the finest ever, and the girl who can call
her friend is in luck up to her ears. So understand: let her alone or
reckon with me."
"Do you think we are a lot of crazy schoolboys and expect to settle our
disagreements with a regular fist-a-cuff bout? You must come from a very
queer place."
"Where _I_ come from doesn't matter in the least. Peggy is the one under
discussion and you know where she comes from and who she is. _What_ she
is you'll never know."
"I don't see why she should be so very hard to understand."
"She isn't--for people with enough sense. Now just take one good look at
those pictures. Is there a weak face among them? One of two things will
happen to you if you ever happen to meet the originals: they'll either
make you feel like a silly little kid or they won't take a bit of
notice of you. It will depend upon how you happen to strike them."
"Oh, are they such, wonders as all that?"
"If you ever get an invitation down to Annapolis you'll have a chance to
find out. Peggy and I have about made up our minds to have a house party
during the holidays, but we haven't quite made up our minds which girls
we are going to like well enough to ask to it. Tanta suggested it. She
is anxious to know our friends, and we are anxious to have her. She
sizes people up pretty quickly and we are always mighty glad to have her
opinion."
Polly spoke rapidly and the effect upon Helen was peculiar. From the
pugnacious attitude of an outraged canary, ready to do battle, she was
transformed into the sweetest, meekest love-bird imaginable. A veritable
little preening, posing, oh-do-admire-me creature, and at Polly's last
words she jumped from the box and clasping her hands, cried:
"A house-party! You are planning a house-party? Oh, how perfectly
adorable. Oh, which girls are you going to invite? Oh, I'll never, never
tease Peggy again as long as I live. I'll be perfectly lovely to her and
I'll make the other girls be nice too. To think of going up there and
meeting all those darling boys. Oh please tell me all about it! The
girls will be just crazy when I tell them. Which of these fellows will
be there?"
Helen had rushed over to Polly's dresser upon which in pretty silver
frames were photographs of Ralph, Happy and Wheedles. On Peggy's dresser
Shorty and Durand looked from their frames straight into her eyes, while
several others not yet framed looked down from the top of the bookshelf.
Silly little Helen was in an ecstasy. Her mamma had never believed in
companions of the opposite sex for her "sweet little daughter" but had
kept her in a figurative preserve jar which bore the label "you may look
but you must not touch." Mamma's instructions to Mrs. Vincent upon
placing Helen in the school had been an absolute ban upon any masculine
visitors, or visits upon Helen's part where such undesirable, though
often unavoidable, members of society might congregate. "She is so very
innocent and unsophisticated, you know, and so very young," added mamma
sweetly. Mrs. Vincent smiled indulgently, but made no comments: She had
encountered such mammas and such sweetly unsophisticated daughters
before and she then and there resolved to keep an extra watchful eye
upon this innocent one. Thus far, however, nothing alarming had
occurred, but Mrs. Vincent knew her material and was prepared for
almost anything. She also knew Lily Pearl and felt pretty sure that if
an upheaval ever took place it would turn out that Lily Pearl or Helen
had touched off the mine. The foregoing scene gives some hint of the
viewpoints of the young ladies in question.
During this digression Helen had caught up Wheedle's picture and was
pressing it rapturously to her fluttering bosom and exclaiming:
"You're a perfect darling! If I could have just one dance with _you_ I'd
be willing to _die_! Polly, how old is he!"
But Polly had left the room and was on her way back to Stella's. As she
reached it she came face to face with the Sturgeon and the Sturgeon's
eyes held no "lovelight" for her.
"Miss Howland, what was the cause of the wild shrieks which disturbed me
a moment since? Miss Montgomery says you can tell if you will and since
none of your companions seem inclined to do so, I will hear your
explanation. I was on my way to inform Miss Stewart that Mrs. Vincent
wished to see her in her study at once when this hideous uproar assailed
my ears."
Polly glanced quickly about the room. Sure enough, Peggy had left it.
Some of the girls looked concerned, others quite calm; among the latter
were Stella and Juno. Rosalie, with Tzaritza's head in her lap, looked
defiant. She hated Miss Sturgis.
Polly turned and looked squarely into Miss Sturgis' eyes.
"The girls were screaming because I carried Helen out of the room," she
answered quietly.
"It seems to me you must be somewhat in need of exercise. I would advise
you to go to the gymnasium to work off your superfluous energy. Why did
you carry Helen from the room? Has she become incapable of voluntary
locomotion?"
"Not yet," answered Polly, a twinkle coming into a corner of the gray
eyes.
"_Not yet?_" emphasized Miss Sturgis. "Are you apprehensive of her
becoming so?"
"She needs more exercise than she gets," answered Polly, half smiling.
That smile acted as salt upon a wound. Miss Sturgis' temper rose.
"Please bear in mind that it does not devolve upon _you_ to decide that
question."
"I did not try to settle that question, Miss Sturgis. If you wish to
know why I carried Helen out of the room I did it because she was
running--"
"Doing what? I don't think I understand your boyish slang."
"Well, teasing Peggy, and I won't have Peggy teased by anybody if I can
stop it. She doesn't understand girls' ways as well as I do because she
hasn't been thrown with them. So when Helen teased her I picked her up
and carried her down to our room and I don't reckon she will tease her
any more."
"So you have come into the school to set its standards and correct its
shortcomings, have you? Are you so very superior to your companions--you
and your protégée?"
Polly looked straight into the narrow eyes looking at her, but made no
reply.
"Answer me, instantly."
"I have never considered myself superior to anyone, but I _do_ consider
Peggy Stewart superior to any girl I have ever known, and I think you
will agree with me when you know her better," asserted Polly loyally.
"You are insolent."
"I do not mean to be. Any one who knows her will tell you the same
thing."
"I repeat you are insolent and you may go to your room."
Polly made no reply, but started to leave the room. Tzaritza sprang to
her side. Miss Sturgis interposed.
"Leave that dog where she is. Go back, you horrible beast," and she
raised her hand menacingly. Tzaritza was not quite sure whether the
menace was intended for Polly or herself. In either case it was cause
for resentment and a low growl warned against further liberties.
"Be careful, Miss Sturgis. Tzaritza thinks you are threatening me," said
Polly. It was said wholly in the interest of the teacher.
Miss Sturgis' early training and forebears had not been of an order to
develop either great dignity, or self-control. Her ability to teach
mathematics was undisputed. Hence her position in Mrs. Vincent's school,
though that good lady had more than once had reason to question the
wisdom of retaining her, owing to the influence which she exerted over
her charges. The grain beneath did not lend itself to a permanent, or
high polish, and it took only the slightest scratch to mar it. Polly's
words seemed to destroy her last remnant of self-control and she turned
upon her in a fury of rage. As she seized her by the arm and cried,
"Silence!" Polly whirled from her like a flash crying, "Charge,
Tzaritza!"
But it was too late, the 'hound had sprung to Polly's defense, only it
was Polly's protecting arm into which Tzaritza's teeth sank. The girl
turned white with pain. Instantly the beautiful dog relinquished her
hold and whining and whimpering like a heartbroken thing began to lick
the bruised arm. Then arose a hubbub compared to which the screams of
which Miss Sturgis had complained had been infantile plaints. Lily Pearl
promptly went into hysterics. Juno shrieked aloud and even the
self-contained Stella cried out as she ran to catch Polly in her arms,
for the girl seemed about to faint. But Miss Sturgis, now thoroughly
terrified at the crisis she had brought to pass, called madly for help.
Helen's screams mingled in the pandemonium, for Helen had been brought
hack from her romantic air castle with a rush.
Notwithstanding the fact that Mrs. Vincent's study was down one flight
of stairs and at the other end of the building, she became aware of the
uproar and her conversation with Peggy came to an abrupt pause. Then
both hurried into the hall to see the tails of Horatio Hannibal
Harrison's coat vanishing up the broad stairway and to hear Fräulein
Hedwig wailing, "Oh ze house iss burning up _and_ down I am sure!"
Meanwhile upon the scene of action Polly had been the first to recover
her wits. The skin had not been broken, for Tzaritza had instantly
perceived her error and released her grip almost as soon as it was
taken. But Miss Sturgis would not have escaped so easily, as well she
knew, and her hatred for Tzaritza increased tenfold. When Mrs. Vincent
and the others arrived upon the scene she broke into a perfect torrent
of invective against the dog, but was brought to her senses by the
Principal's quiet:
"Miss Sturgis, you seem to be a good deal overwrought. I will excuse
you. You may retire to your room until you feel calmer."
"Let me explain! Let me tell you what a horrible thing has happened!"
cried Miss Sturgis.
"When you are less excited I shall be glad to listen. Fräulein, kindly
accompany Miss Sturgis to her room and call the housekeeper. Now, Polly,
what is it?" asked Mrs. Vincent, for Polly was the center of the group
of excited girls, though calmer than any of them.
"Tzaritza made a mistake and caught my arm in her teeth, that is all,
Mrs. Vincent. But she has done no harm. It doesn't hurt much now; she
did not mean to do it any way."
"What!" cried Peggy, aghast, "Tzaritza attacked _you_, Polly?"
Polly nodded her head in quick negative, striving to keep Peggy from
saying more. But Tzaritza had crawled to Peggy's feet and was literally
grovelling there in abject misery.
"Charge, Tzaritza!"
The splendid creature lay motionless. "Polly, what happened?' demanded
Peggy, once more the Peggy of Severndale and entirely forgetful of her
present surroundings. Mrs. Vincent smiled and laying her hand gently
upon Peggy's arm said:
"Don't embarrass Polly, dear. Leave it to me."
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vincent. I forgot," answered Peggy,
blushing deeply. Mrs. Vincent nodded forgiveness, then turning to
Stella, asked:
"Were you here all the time, Stella?"
"Yes, Mrs. Vincent."
"Then please tell me exactly what happened."
Stella told the story clearly and quietly. When she ended there was a
moment's hush, broken by Rosalie Breeze crying:
"And Tzaritza never, never would have done a single thing if Miss
Sturgis hadn't lost her temper. She is forever scolding us about losing
ours, but she'd just better watch out herself. I wish Tzaritza had
bitten her!"
"Rosalie!"
"Well, I do, Mrs. Vincent. It was every bit her own fault. She hates
Tzaritza, and I love her," was Rosalie's vehement if perplexing
conclusion as she cast herself upon the big dog. Tzaritza welcomed her
with a grateful whine and crept closer, though she never raised her
head. She was waiting the word of forgiveness from the one she loved
best of all, but Peggy was awaiting Tzaritza's exoneration. Mrs.
Vincent, who had sent for the resident trained nurse, was examining
Polly's arm and now said:
"It is all very distressing, but I am glad no more serious for Polly.
The arm is badly bruised and will be very painful for some time, but I
can't discover a scratch. Miss Allen, will you please look after this
little girl," she asked, as the sweet-faced trained nurse entered the
room, her white uniform snowy and immaculate, her face a benediction in
its sweet, calm repose.
"Go with Miss Allen, dear, and have your arm dressed." Polly paused only
long enough to stoop down and kiss Tzaritza's head, the caress being
acknowledged by a pathetic whine, then followed the nurse from the room.
Peggy was terribly distressed.
"Do you think I would better send her back to Severndale, Mrs. Vincent?"
she asked.
"Has she ever attacked anyone before, Peggy?"
"Never in all her life."
"I hardly think she will again. She may remain. Come here, Tzaritza."
Tzaritza did not stir.
"Up, Tzaritza," commanded Peggy, and the affectionate creature's feet
were upon her shoulders as she begged forgiveness with almost human
eloquence.
"Oh, my bonny one, how could you?" asked Peggy as she caressed the silky
head. Tzaritza's whimpers reduced some of the girls to tears. "Now go to
Mrs. Vincent," ordered Peggy, and the hound obediently crossed the room
to lay her head in that lady's lap.
"Poor Tzaritza, you did what you believed to be your duty, didn't you?
None of us can do more. I wish some of my other problems were as easy to
solve as the motives of your act. Go on with your fudge party, girls. It
will prove a diversion. I must look to other matters now," and Mrs.
Vincent sighed at the prospect of the coming interview with Miss
Sturgis. It was not her first experience by any means.