From the moment, when she emerged upon the corridor that led to the
schoolrooms with that huge bunch of American Beauty roses in her arms, a
new period of her school life began. The girls, of course, had seen from
their desks the arrival of the motor-car and its single occupant,--a
Man,--and the older girls who had peeked into the drawing-room reported
that Mr. Ashly Crane was a very smart-looking man, indeed. When a woman
first receives flowers from a man, an event of importance in her
existence has happened. Senorita Diane, who was an incorrigible
sentimentalist, went into ecstasies over the roses and at once whispered
about the school that they were the fruit of an admirer, not of a mere
relative. Miss Thompson talked to her teachers, especially to "Rosy,"
and it became known throughout the Hall that the ugly duckling was
undoubtedly Somebody, and she was treated thereafter with more
consideration. If the trust company had thought to take notice of its
ward's existence earlier in her school career, Adelle might have been
saved a very disagreeable year of her life.
In due time there arrived a beautiful saddle-horse and a groom, both
selected with judgment by Mr. Ashly Crane and charged to the ward's
account. The appearance of the blooded mount did more than anything else
to acquaint Adelle with the meaning and the power of money. In many
subtle ways she began to feel a change in the attitude of her world
towards her, and naturally related it immediately to the possession of
this unknown power. A dangerous weapon had thus been suddenly placed in
her hands. She could command respect, attention, even consideration,
thanks to this weapon--money. It was merely human that as the years went
on the silent child, who had absorbed many unhappy impressions of life
before discovering this key to the world, should become rapidly cynical
in her use of her one great weapon of offense and defense. The next few
years of her life was the period when she exercised herself in the use
of this weapon, although she did not become really proficient in its
control until much later.
A suitable habit was quickly provided, and she set forth each pleasant
day with that little group of older girls who enjoyed this privilege,
accompanied always by her own groom, who was a well-trained servant and
effaced himself as nearly as possible. The California girls rode, and
that Miss Dyboy of Baltimore, but the little Mexican, though she had
ridden all her life, had no horse, and as long as affairs continued
unsettled in Morelos was not likely to have one. When Adelle discovered
this fact, she did not play the part of the unselfish heroine, I am
sorry to say, and allow Diane to use her horse even on those days when
she did not care to ride (as of course she would do in a well-conducted
story). Instead she merely wrote a little letter to Mr. Crane at the
Washington Trust Company, telling him rather peremptorily to send her
another horse. Somewhat to her surprise the second horse arrived in due
season, and now she lent the beast to her little friend, carefully
refraining from giving up her title to him. For a second time she felt
the sweet sense of unlimited power in response to desire. She wrote her
letter as Aladdin rubbed his magic lamp, and straightway her desire
became fact! It was modern magic. This time it happened that her desire
was a generous one and brought her the approval as well as the envy of
the small social world at the Hall. But that was purely accidental: the
next time she should try her lamp, as likely as not the cause might be
purely selfish. As a matter of fact she soon discovered that, by
distributing her favors and lending her extra horse to a number of
schoolmates, she could enlarge her circle of influence and
consideration. So the little Mexican by no means had all the rides.
Horseback riding was a beneficial pleasure in more than one way. Adelle,
of course, profited from the exercise in the open air: she began to grow
slowly and to promise womanhood at some not distant day. It also brought
her into close relations with some of the leading girls, who had thus
far ignored her existence; among them the breezy California sisters,
"the two Pols," as they were known in school. These girls profited by
Adelle's groom to dispense with the chaperonage of the old
riding-master, and before long Adelle learned why this arrangement was
made. In their long expeditions across country, with the discreet groom
well in the rear, the girls put their heads together in the most
intimate gossip, from which Adelle learned much that completed her
knowledge of life. Most of this was innocent enough, though some was
not, as when one afternoon, when "the Pols" judged that Adelle was a
"good sport," they led the way to a remote road-house where a couple of
men were waiting evidently by appointment. One of them, a fair-haired,
overdressed young man, Adelle was given to understand was Sadie Pol's
"artist" friend. She herself was sent back to entertain the groom while
the two sisters went into the road-house with their "friends." Conduct,
even conduct that came near being vice, was largely meaningless to
Adelle: she silently observed. She had no evil impulses herself, very
few impulses, in fact, of any kind. But she was the last person to tell
tales, and "the two Pols," having tested her and pronounced her "safe,"
she was allowed to see more and went more than once to the rendezvous at
the quiet road-house. In this way she raised herself nearly to a plane
of equality with the leaders of the school. Indeed, it was Adelle who
assisted Irene Paul to escape from the Hall one winter night, and stayed
awake far into the morning in order to let the girl in. But that was a
year later....
When Adelle discovered the power of her magic lamp, she was generous
with her pocket-money, ordering and buying whatever the older girls
desired. In this way she rapidly attained favor in the Hall, where few
even of the richer girls could procure money so easily as the ward of
the Washington Trust Company. "Get Adelle to do it," or "Adelle will dig
up the money," "Ask Adelle to write her bank," became familiar
expressions, and Adelle never failed to "make good." It is safe to say
that if contact with any sort of human experience gives education,
Adelle was being educated rapidly, although she was completely ignorant
of books and as nearly illiterate as a carefully protected rich girl can
be. Before Nature had completed within her its mission, Adelle was
cognizant of many kinds of knowledge, some of which included depravity.
For in the exclusive, protected, rich world of Herndon Hall she had met
everything she might have encountered in the Alton Girls' High and a
good deal more beside.
By the end of this second year she was not much happier, perhaps, but
she was perfectly comfortable at the Hall and thoroughly used to her new
environment. The blonde Irene had given her a diploma,--
"Dell's all right--she's a good little kid."