READJUSTMENTS
In the weeks that followed the discovery of Olive’s connection with the
wealthy old patroness of Primrose Hall a student of psychology would
have had an interesting opportunity in the study of the changed attitude
of her schoolmates toward her. In the first place, from being an Indian
girl of uncertain origin, Olive had suddenly become a heroine of romance
and also there was the possibility that she might in time be an heiress,
should her grandmother change in her feelings toward her and disinherit
the Harmons. In any case, the law would certainly allow her some portion
of the old estate. So you see that instead of being looked down upon as
the most undesirable student at Primrose Hall, the fourth ranch girl had
suddenly become exalted upon a pedestal, and perhaps it is just as
deceptive in this world to look up to other people as it is to look down
upon them, since a fair judgment can only be attained by standing face
to face.
Truly Olive had no more desire for this second false position than she
had for the first, but now her shyness, once regarded as ill breeding,
was called haughtiness and her classmates stood a little in awe of her.
The position was indeed a trying one for everybody concerned in it, for
scarcely could the girls who had been unkind to Olive, now throw
themselves about her neck begging her forgiveness, simply because so
unexpected a turn had come in her fortunes. Of course, some of the
unwise girls did do this, but not those with better judgment and taste,
for they understood that Olive must be approached more slowly and with
greater tact.
Among this second class of girls was Winifred Graham. Now no one could
be more vexed than she was with herself for her persistent snubbing of
Olive from the first day of her entrance into Primrose Hall, not because
she liked Olive any better than she had at first, but because Winifred
only cared for persons who might be useful to her, and now this
ridiculous Olive with her romantic history, might be very useful indeed.
The point at issue was the bestowal of the Shakespeare prize of several
hundred dollars, given each year by Madame Van Mater to the Junior
students in Jessica Hunt’s class. Mention has been made before that the
three girls who stood closest in line for this prize were Winifred,
Olive and Gerry. Now Winifred supposed that Olive would of course
withdraw from the contest, since she could hardly take a prize presented
by her own grandmother, but what Winifred feared was that Olive might
throw the balance of her influence in Gerry’s favor. Very carefully she
now undertook to show her change of feeling toward the ranch girls
without offending them or making them suspicious by too great haste. A
confidential talk with Jessica Hunt, who had always been their friend,
was one of the methods Winifred first employed, but there was little
assistance to be had from Jessica. For in the first place Jessica
declared immediately that Olive was not to give up her effort to win the
Shakespeare prize. Jessica had talked the matter over both with Olive
and Miss Winthrop and they had decided in council that Olive need not
give up her cherished ambition on account of her altered connection with
Madame Van Mater. The prize had been freely offered without
reservations to whatever girl in the Junior class should have the best
yearly record, write the best Shakespeare essay at the close of the
school year and give the best recitation from any one of the Shakespeare
plays.
Not approving of Olive’s continuance in the contest, Winifred had then
freely expressed her opinion to Jessica and afterwards to Olive, but
though her manner was now entirely friendly, her protest had not the
least effect upon Olive’s decision. Indeed, when things had settled down
into routine again Olive continued to work harder than ever during the
following winter and spring months. Of course, her position among her
classmates had altered somewhat; Margaret and Gerry were both her
friends as well as a number of other girls who had never been actively
disagreeable, but with Winifred, Olive could not keep up more than a
faint pretense of friendliness. At heart the two girls did not like one
another and no amount of veneering can ever cover a real antagonism of
temperament. They exchanged greetings in their class rooms and several
times Winifred called on the ranch girls, but as her visits were never
returned, she had to try other methods of softening the hostility her
own unkindness had created, hoping that before the school year was over
something would give her a chance to win their liking.
One month after the return of the Primrose Hall students from their
Christmas holidays the Theta Sorority had solemnly and with
distinguished rites received Olive and Jean into their mystic order.
When finally the invitation, so much discussed, had been extended to the
two ranch girls they had not known what to do in the matter. Of course,
they had not wished to show continued ill feeling, so with Jessica’s
advice, had joined the society, afterwards greatly enjoying the pretty
club house and the frequent informal entertainments which the sorority
gave during the rest of the school year.
So month after month rolled pleasantly and less eventfully on at
Primrose Hall. Weekly visits at the command of her grandmother were
still made by Olive to “The Towers.” At first Miss Winthrop had been in
the habit of accompanying her and later Jean and Frieda, but there were
times when pilgrimages had to be made alone. Why they had to be made at
all Olive did not understand, for Madame Van Mater still showed but
little liking for the granddaughter whom circumstances and Miss Winthrop
had surely thrust upon her. If she liked any one of the three ranch
girls it was Jean, for as usual Jean had not really felt the least fear
of her and when they had made their first call it was with difficulty
that she refrained from giving her hostess a piece of her mind in regard
to her treatment of Olive. Perhaps Madame Van Mater’s age prevented her
from receiving the scolding and perhaps her manner. For instead Jean
told her the story of the ranch girls’ discovery of Olive and of how
much she had previously suffered. And perhaps this story worked as well
as the scolding, since the old mistress of “The Towers” abruptly invited
Jean to tell her nothing more of this woman Laska, but of their life at
the Rainbow Ranch. Although all three girls could be eloquent on the
subject of the ranch, Jean was allowed the floor and three times in the
course of the conversation Madame Van Mater actually had laughed aloud,
a proceeding most unusual with her. Perhaps after all, in spite of her
hardness and pride, the old woman had not been altogether happy over her
treatment of her son’s child, even though she believed that her son had
forfeited her love and consideration by his own actions. But whatever
her reasons, thus far kept to herself, Olive was forced to continue the
weekly calls.
One afternoon in April, when Miss Winthrop was busy with school matters
and Jean and Frieda were engaged in a game of basketball, Olive found
herself compelled to go alone to see her grandmother. And she was
particularly vexed over this special visit, as she had wished to join
the other girls in their game.
Always until this afternoon Olive had been received by Madame Van Mater
with entire formality in the old drawing room, where they had had their
two memorable meetings, but to-day she found the drawing room empty and
while she waited a maid came to say that she was kindly to walk
upstairs.
Anything was better than the stiffness and coldness of the old drawing
room! Because the spring day was cool, Olive on going upstairs found her
grandmother before an open fire wrapped about with silk shawls and
comforts. Her hair was, of course, piled as high as usual and her
costume as handsome, but it was plain to see that she was not so well.
“Kindly don’t come near me, as I am suffering from a severe cold,” she
announced, as Olive approached to shake hands with her, never having at
any time offered her any more intimate greeting.
Olive sat down, trying to look properly interested, but really feeling
bored and uncomfortable at the thought of the next half hour. These
calendar-like visits and the fact that Jack Ralston was still a prisoner
in New York were the only worries she now seemed to have at Primrose
Hall.
“I am sorry you are ill,” she began politely, only to have her remark
waved aside.
“I am not ill,” Madame Van Mater returned, “only not well; but if I were
there are other more important matters than my health which I wish to
discuss with you this afternoon; therefore am I very glad to see you
alone.”
There was no answer to be made to this statement. Olive had never
attempted to be hypocritical with her grandmother by pretending to feel
any affection for her. She now simply sat perfectly still and
respectful, waiting to hear what was to be said next. But rarely had she
looked more attractive than on this afternoon. In the first place, her
walk had given her a bright color and she was wearing a particularly
becoming frock.
Miss Winthrop had insisted that Olive always dress with great care on
these visits to her grandmother, so this special frock, which Ruth
lately had sent from New York, was now worn for the first time. It was
of some soft material of silk and wool made with a short waist and
softly clinging skirt of a bright golden brown with a girdle of brown
velvet. Olive was very slender always and of only medium height, but her
dark coloring was rich and unusual and now her expression was gayer and
in some unconscious way she seemed more confident and less timid in her
manner than formerly.
For several moments after her first long speech Madame Van Mater
continued to study the appearance of the young girl sitting opposite
her, and then, without the least warning of her intention, said
abruptly: “Olive, I suppose you have not understood why I have insisted
on your coming to see me so regularly and constantly since my discovery
of your connection with me. You may, of course, have guessed, but if you
have not I am prepared to tell you this afternoon. I have been studying
you and I am now willing to say that I have in the past done you a great
injustice. However much my son disappointed me by his choice of an
occupation and by his marriage to your mother instead of Katherine
Winthrop, I had no real right to cast off from me all responsibility in
regard to his child. You are not altogether what I would have you to be,
you have less social ease of manner and less conversational ability than
I desire in my granddaughter; but I am prepared to overlook these faults
in you now, Olive, or at least to give you time to conquer them. What I
am coming to is this. I have recently decided to make reparation to you
by having you come here to live with me when your year at Primrose Hall
is passed, and if I find you as refined and as capable of being managed
as I now suppose you to be, I am prepared to change my will, making you
heir to the greater part of my estate and giving my grand-niece and
nephew, Donald and Elizabeth Harmon, only the portion formerly intended
for you. You need not thank me; I am doing this simply because I wish to
do it. And also because it will please Katherine Winthrop, who is one of
the few persons for whom I have always cared.”
Olive smiled, although the smile did not really cross her lips, but
seemed somehow to drift across her entire face. “I had no intention of
thanking you, grandmother,” she returned quietly, “only of refusing your
offer. It may be very kind of you to desire me to live with you, but I
thought you understood that nothing and no one in the world could ever
persuade me to stop living with the ranch girls so long as they wish me
to be with them. And even after we are grown up and they marry or
anything else happens, why, even then, I have plans of my own.”
“Ranch girls, fiddlesticks,” exclaimed Madame Van Mater, far more
inelegantly than one would have thought possible to her. “Of course, I
wish to say nothing against these friends of yours; under the
circumstances I am even prepared to be grateful to them for their
kindness to you, but surely you cannot expect to live forever on their
bounty, and what can they offer you in the way of social opportunity? I
believe they have no parents to introduce them into society, only this
chaperon named Ruth Drew and some man or other who manages their ranch.”
Olive flushed and then smiled. “I don’t believe I am very anxious or
very well fitted for social opportunity,” she answered, “but I don’t
think you need worry about the ranch girls, for when the time comes for
them to take any part in society I am sure they will find opportunities
enough. I wrote Jack only a few weeks ago, ten days after her operation
was over, that as soon as she was well enough and whenever she wanted me
to, I would go back with her to the ranch or we would travel or do
whatever was best for her. Of course, we don’t any of us know yet
whether Jack’s operation was successful, but Jean and Frieda and I have
positively made up our minds that nothing will induce us to be separated
from her after this year.”
“You are talking school girl nonsense,” Madame Van Mater returned
coldly, “but naturally I do not care to argue this question with you. I
shall have Katherine Winthrop put the matter before you. But you can
rest assured, Olive, of these two things: In the first place, that if at
any time you displease me I can leave my money to any one whom I may
select, as my husband’s will gave his estate entirely into my hands; and
in the second place, that if I desire to control your actions, you are
not yet of age and I, and not the ranch girls, am your natural
guardian.”
Very few times in her life had Olive ever known what it was to be
violently angry, and yet no matter how gentle one’s nature anger must
get the best of all of us now and then. Quickly the girl now got up from
her chair and crossing the room faced Madame Van Mater with an
expression as determined as her own. “Please understand that I do not
want to defraud either Donald or Elizabeth Harmon of the money you have
always promised them. They have been very kind since the discovery of my
connection with them and of course you must be more fond of them than
you can ever be of me. The truth of the matter is that though I don’t
want to be rude or unfair, I do not like you, grandmother, nor do I feel
that I can ever forgive the years of your neglect of me. Do you think it
is quite fair for you now to speak of being my natural guardian when for
so many years you desired nothing so much as that my name should never
be mentioned to you? Please don’t let us talk of this ever, ever any
more, but understand that I shall never leave the ranch girls.”
Plainly Madame Van Mater was amazed at Olive’s unexpected anger, for
until this moment her granddaughter had always seemed to her rather too
gentle and shy. Now the old woman simply shrugged her shoulders
indifferently. “You may go,” she replied, “but of course, Olive, I shall
decide later what course in regard to you I shall consider it advisable
to take.”
So with scarlet cheeks and feeling more obstinate than ever before in
her life, Olive, finding herself dismissed, rushed for consolation to
Primrose Hall.