THE INITIATIONS
"Wasn't it the flattest thing you ever saw?" said Patricia,
disgustedly, as they waited for Judith at the side door. "I thought it
was going off well when Griffin opened the ball by finding her little
figure poked away there on the stand back of her head, and made such a
cute speech to it, but the rest of them certainly behaved like tame
tabbies. I was never so disappointed in my life."
"I thought Miss Green was really quite clever," said Elinor brightly.
"She certainly read the verse attached to her's with a lot of
expression. I didn't think she could be so sprightly."
Patricia drummed on the railing. "She was well enough," she admitted
grudgingly. "But after I had modeled those figures and tried to get
something appropriate for each one--and it was hard to get the candy
into the inside of them, too, without spoiling it--they go and accept
them as though they were a cup of afternoon tea. I thought they'd show
more spirit. Don't talk to me about artists being gay and Bohemian
after this."
"It was a little quiet," acknowledged Elinor, "but, at least, they were
very pleasant about it. They all agreed that it was the cleverest
thing that had been done in that line."
Patricia gazed gloomily at the door of the life-class room.
"I wish I were in the night life," she said resentfully. "I envy you,
Norn, being among live people."
Elinor smiled ruefully. "And I'd like to swap with you," she said.
"I'd much prefer a quiet time like I had in the head class this
morning, or an agreeable time like you had, to anything riotous."
Patricia sighed and stirred restlessly. "Isn't that like life?" she
commented, her face clearing as the thought took hold on her. "We're
all hankering after something that we haven't got--or we think we are.
Maybe--maybe we'd not like the other thing any better if we did get it,
though one's own things always seem awfully commonplace, don't they?"
Before Elinor could respond, she started to the door with an
exclamation.
"Here's Judy! On time to the dot!" she cried. "Come on in, Ju; drop
your plunder into my strong arm and let us introduce you to the
Academy."
Judith, with her hat rather on one side and her cheeks flushed from the
wind and swift walking, kissed them both breathlessly and tumbled her
bundles into Patricia's capacious apron.
She followed them into the dressing room with her eyes busy but without
a single word, and it was not until they had taken her through the
various class rooms, deserted at this noon hour, and were on their way
down to the lunch room that she found speech.
"I must say, Elinor," she began, in response to a question, "that it's
very different from what you girls led me to expect."
"Did we draw such rosy pictures?" asked Patricia in surprise. "I
thought we told you it was remarkably spotty and just as smelly."
"_But,_" continued Judith with emphasis, "I must say that, dirt and
all, it is more _glorious-ified_ than I thought it would be. That
big-winged angel or whatever it is at the top of the stairs looks as if
it would soar right up to the top of heaven--it's so white and strong!"
Patricia's eyes filled with the ready tears as she caught the look on
Judith's thin face, raised in adoring admiration to the great Winged
Victory that stood poised at the top of the wide flight of stone
stairs, showing triumphant in the misty light that seems to fill all
great indoor spaces.
"That's the part that makes up for all the soil and smudge, Ju
darling," said Elinor softly. "Paint and charcoal and clay are dirty
things, but when they're wielded with the force of an Ideal, they can
illuminate the world."
Judith swept her adoring gaze from the Victory to her sister's face.
"Oh, oh," she breathed, "I didn't know you could talk like that,
Elinor. It sounds like some beautiful book."
Elinor blushed and laughed. "I can't, usually," she said, gayly. "It
is the Victory that did it. She must have handed down some of the
thoughts of the old Greek that carved her out of the white marble under
that blue, blue sky of ancient days."
Patricia nodded her quick appreciation. "I wonder how many she has
spoken to, in all the centuries?" she mused, her eyes growing wide and
absent. "Think of them, Norn--those people who felt her spell and
heard the message. What a glorious company!"
It was Elinor's turn to raise misty eyes to the Messenger of the Ideal,
and, like Judith, she was silent, busy with this thought.
"Do you know," Patricia went on, the peculiarly sweet, clear tone that
marked her best self growing as she spoke, "I've come to care a lot
about that glorious company. 'The kings of the earth shall bring their
glory and honor into it,' and I don't see why we all shouldn't have
some chance to add our tiny scrap to the splendor. I know I shan't
ever do much--only commonplace, humdrum things, but if I can come at
last with the least, tiniest bit of a radiant snip to add to the glory
and honor, I'll be more than satisfied."
She broke off suddenly, smiling a wistful smile at the two others.
"I oughtn't to envy you, but I do," she said, softly. "You'll both
come in simply glittering, and I'll have to brag that you're my near
relatives. I'm such an ostentatious beast that I'd have to show off
even there."
"Patricia!" gasped Judith, shocked out of her dreamy calm. "You
oughtn't to say things like that. It's--it's not religious!"
Patricia dropped back instantly to her usual manner.
"Well, anyway, I'm fearfully hungry," she said airily. "I can't stand
any more palaver. Come along to the cave and let us feed while there
is time."
Luncheon was particularly gay, much to Judith's delight. Margaret
Howes joined Patricia as she carried Judith off to the them, and
Griffin with a kindred spirit had the next table. Doris Leighton, the
pretty girl whom Patricia had so ardently admired on her first day and
who had not been visible since then, appeared without her pale
companion, and took the table on the other side of them, and when
Margaret Howes, at Patricia's entreaty, introduced them, she brought
her chair over to their table and made one of their merry party.
Judith was silent for the most part, but her eyes glowed like live
coals and she kept tossing her pale, straight mane in the way she had
when pleasantly excited.
"Well, what do you think of Bohemia?" asked Griffin, as they climbed
the narrow iron stair again, the time having come for Judith to say
good-bye.
Judith was equal to the occasion, as usual.
"I like it better than the land of the Amorites and the Hittites," she
responded so promptly that the other gaped.
"Upon my word, you're a classy young 'un," she grinned. "Come again
soon and give us some more."
Patricia as she carried Judith off to the dressing room for her wraps,
was moved to inquiry.
"How in the world could you answer her so pat?" she asked, twinkling at
Judith's superior air.
"Oh, I heard you say this morning that outside people were Philistines,
and when I tried to look it up in the Old Testament, I read a lot of
hard names, and I remembered them," she said, triumphantly. "I didn't
think, though, that I'd be able to use them so soon."
Patricia shook her head.
"You certainly are the limit," she said, gravely. "What makes you care
so much about words and names and such like things?" she asked, trying
to get at a clearer understanding of her little sister's mental
processes.
Judith was entirely unconscious of the probe.
"Why, because they're the very nicest things in the world, of course,"
she replied spiritedly. "I love to get new ones and see how they work.
It's such fun. Like archery practice, when you hit the bull's eye.
Only words are somehow different, too. They sort of _taste_ when you
say them--sometimes sweet and sometimes tingly and queer, like the
Amorites and Hittites," and she giggled at the memory.
Patricia shook her head.
"Don't go tasting too many new ones around here," she cautioned with a
kiss. "You might hit on the wrong one, and they wouldn't understand
that it was merely a game with you."
"Well, I just guess it isn't any game," retorted Judith with a toss of
her mane. "It's the most important thing in life to me," and she
stalked off towards the door with great dignity.
Patricia groaned as she watched her walk primly down the corridor and
out of the side entrance. "That infant," she said to Elinor who had
been leaving Judith out, "is trembling on the brink of becoming a
little prig. We've got to see to it, Norn, that she doesn't get too
satisfied with herself."
"I don't believe she'll get spoiled," returned Elinor, easily. "She
_is_ clever, you know, and I think it's rather nice that she can enjoy
it a bit. She isn't pretty, and it makes up to her for that."
"All the same," said Patricia, darkly, "she needs to drop a peg in her
own esteem. Conceit is mighty crippling to the runner in the race that
Ju's picked out for herself. I'd hate her to be a fizzle, and I'm
going to see to it that she gets rid of it."
"Very well; only don't be too hard on her," said Elinor, easily. "Come
help me with the candy for the night life, won't you? I can't get it
in shape."
"Lots of time for it," said Patricia, yawning and flinging herself down
on the wide couch. "The men aren't through in there for more than an
hour yet."
"But I've got to get it tied inside the lantern while no one is about,"
insisted Elinor. "And the hall is absolutely deserted now. Come
along, do, and be useful."
Patricia, protesting, dragged herself from the restful nest, but by the
time they had begun to arrange the gay little bags of candy in the big
red Japanese lantern, she was as enthusiastic as Elinor could wish.
"Aren't the bags perfect ducks?" she laughed, handling the gauzy
bundles with dexterous fingers. "And those verses are too cute for
words. What a time we all had over them! Ju's are the best, though
she mustn't know it; funny without being personal. It was terribly
hard to get such a mob, too. How many are there altogether, Norn?"
"Seventeen," replied Elinor, counting. "I hope it will work all right
when I pull the string. I've fixed the bottom of that lantern so it
ought to fall out when I give a hard jerk, and all the bags will tumble
down in a shower."
"You can't try it, of course," said Patricia. "But I'm dead certain
it'll be all right. What is the matter?" she asked, looking up as the
door of the life room opened and the men began to come out carrying
their canvases and drawing-boards as though the pose were over. "It
can't be four o'clock, surely. Ju hasn't been gone a half hour."
Naskowski, on his way to the modeling room, paused to answer Patricia's
question.
"There iss a demonstration in the living anatomy, for all students--a
man who can dislocate his joints at will and do other methods of
showing muscle action," he explained. "So the life iss dismiss. You
will come--not?"
Patricia and Elinor exchanged a swift glance.
"We'll be along in a little while," replied Patricia easily. "Save a
seat for us if you can."
When he had moved on she whispered excitedly:
"Now's your chance, Norn! I'll skirmish for laggards and report."
She came back in a moment, triumphant.
"There isn't a soul in sight," she announced. "Hustle while the
coast's clear. Someone may come back at any moment."
They hurried into the deserted room, and with eager haste they swung
the big lantern up to the circle of electric fixtures above the model
stand, the stout cord that Elinor had fastened to its bottom hanging
concealed among the drapery of the screen that stood behind the model's
chair.
"It's all ship-shape now," whispered Patricia as they scrambled down
from the stools whereon they had perched to accomplish their purpose.
"Aren't we in luck? Not a soul even saw us come in."
"Now for a sight of the dislocated gentleman," said Elinor gayly. "And
then for the great event."
The anatomical wonder appealed to them so little that they gave up the
seats that the kind Slav had saved for them, and went out, rather
sickened by such limberness, to wait the gong of the night life in the
seclusion of the print room.
The hall and corridor were dim and the circle of lights above the model
stand was twinkling brightly when Patricia peeped in at the crack of
the door during the first rest.
"Nothing seems to be happening," said Elinor to her in an undertone as
she joined her. "I believe I'll wait till later, unless I see signs of
action."
"Don't keep me hanging on here in the dark too long," protested
Patricia. "I'm worn to a bone already."
When she returned to her post after a brief nap on the wide couch,
everything was quiet, much to her disgust.
"Why in the world doesn't Elinor loosen up?" she thought, impatiently.
As she moved nearer she gave a start of surprise. The lights in the
night-life room were out. The transom showed black and empty above the
massive folded doors.
Patricia drew in her breath with a gasp. She put her hand on the knob
of the door and noiselessly turned it.
"I'll slip in behind the door screen," she thought, "and see what's
going on. Elinor may need me."