COMPLICATIONS
But Petty had _not_ taken the note from Beverly's history. It had been
removed by quite a different person. In fact about the last one either
Beverly or Petty would have dreamed of.
But of this a little later.
By the time the fudge had been cleaned off from everything within a
radius of five feet, for a more complete splash had never been made by
any descending mass, the "lights out" bells were ringing in all the
corridors. Miss Woodhull had only to press a series of buttons arranged
in the hall just outside her study door to produce the effect of the
needle-prick in the fairy tale. Every inmate immediately dropped asleep.
Every? Well, exceptions prove a rule, it is said.
The following morning Beverly told Petty the circumstances of picking up
the note and of its subsequent disappearance.
Petty was in despair and scolded and wept alternately, accusing Beverly
of having deliberately confiscated it, and hinting pretty broadly that
she had also read it.
The moment this accusation left her lips she regretted it because she
knew it to be utterly unfounded and the blaze which sprung into Beverly's
eyes warned the little shallow pate that she had ventured a bit too far.
She tried to retract by saying she was "nervous and excited and
_perfectly miserable_ at the loss of the letter. It was the first of
Reggie's letters she had _ever_ lost, and he had written every single day
for a _whole_ year."
"Three-hundred and sixty-five letters, and every one mushy?" cried
Beverly, incredulously. "I should think it would be worse than eating a
pound of nougat every day."
Petty alternately moped and searched all Saturday, but, of course to no
purpose. When Monday morning came she was in despair, and went to her
first recitation in a most emotional frame of mind.
It happened to be French, and Monsieur Sautelle had been the French
instructor but four months. Moreover, he had not yet been in America a
year and American girls, and things American, were not only new but a
constant source of marvel to him. He lived in a world of hitherto unknown
sensations and this morning was destined to experience an entirely new
one.
The period was nearly over before it came Petty's turn to recite and
Petty, as the result of having spent all her study period in a vain
search for the lost letter, was totally unprepared.
"Madamoiselle Gaylor, you will be so good as to come the conjugation of
the verb love, indi_ca_tive mood, if you please."
Unfortunate choice!
Petty was in a very indicative mood already. Had he chosen any other verb
she might have survived the ordeal, but under the circumstances to openly
affirm: "I love; Thou lovest; _he_ loves----."
Well, there are limits to every one's endurance under extreme emotion.
Petty hesitated and was lost. Not a word would come. Her throat throbbed
and it seemed as though that pound of nougat Beverly had alluded to must
be stuck in it.
"Proceed, if you please, Madamoiselle," urged Monsieur. Petty sat almost
directly in front of him, or rather she stood--Miss Woodhull wished each
pupil to stand while reciting--and upon being urged to "proceed" raised
to him a pair of violet eyes swimming in tears, and a face of abject woe.
Monsieur Sautelle was not over thirty. A dapper, exquisite little man. He
was distraught at the sight of this tearful damsel and, very naturally
attributed her distress to unpreparedness. Petty was a pretty,
inconsequential little creature born to play upon the feelings of one man
or another. It did not much matter who he happened to be so long as he
could satisfy the sentimental element in her makeup, and she was mostly
sentimentality.
"Madamoiselle I implore. Why these tears? You quite desolate me. It is no
such crushing matter that you do not know 'to love'."
"But oh, I do. I _do_," sobbed Petty.
"Then you will most kindly demonstrate that fact to the class. They
wait."
If ever instructor was taken literally Monsieur Sautelle was then and
there, for with an overpowering sob she swayed forward, flung both
arms about the dismayed man's neck and burying her face against his
immaculate collar, gurgled: "Oh, I love! I _do_ love! Thou lov-v-est!
He--He--loves----_me_!"
It was the most astonishing conjugation the startled Professor had ever
heard in all his thirty years, and he frantically strove to remove the
clinging damsel, at the same time commanding: "Madamoiselle,
Madamoiselle, make yourself tranquil! You will cease at once. Mees
Woodhull! Mees Stetson, Mees--Mees."
Now it so happened that Miss Stetson's recitation room adjoined Monsieur
Sautelle's. She heard his call and responded with wingéd feet, arriving
upon the scene just as Eleanor Allen, Petty's bosom friend, had sprung to
her side, and while in reality striving to untwine Petty's clinging arms
seemed also to be in the act of embracing the French teacher.
What followed is almost too painful to dwell upon, but within ten
minutes, all three actors in the little drama were arraigned before Miss
Woodhull and it was only Eleanor's clever tongue which saved the
situation. She stated very emphatically that Petty had been too ill to
study on Saturday evening; she did not feel it necessary to name the
nature of the malady. That it had been impossible for Petty to prepare
her lessons for Monday and that her act was purely the outcome of nervous
excitement and held no personal demonstration toward Professor Sautelle.
This statement the Professor was more than delighted to back up and
Petty's tears clenched it. Miss Woodhull could not endure tears; she had
never shed one in her life so far as she could recall--and she wished to
end the scene forthwith. Consequently the Professor was politely
dismissed and speedily went to procure fresh linen. Under Miss Stetson's
charge Petty was sent to the Infirmary, where she was detained a week,
and Eleanor was bidden to go to her next recitation. But Eleanor, who was
Petty's confidant in all things, instantly decided to keep her trump card
to be played when the moment should be ripe. Eleanor had missed her
vocation in life. She should have been in the Turkish diplomatic service
instead of in an American boarding school.
Eleanor had taken the note from Beverly's history. She did so because,
having seen Beverly pick it up and place it there she decided, from
innate suspicion of all her fellow beings, that Beverly meant to use it
to Petty's undoing. It never occurred to her that Beverly could entertain
a generous motive toward a girl whom she held in aversion if not
contempt. Then the note once in her possession she wished to keep it a
day or so, in the hope that Petty might discover for herself where it had
gone. It never entered her head that Beverly would go straight to Petty
and explain the situation, and in a reticent freak quite uncommon to her
nature, Petty had not confided this fact to Eleanor. And now it was out
of the question to do so for the pupils were not permitted to visit the
girls in the Infirmary.
Two weeks later the basket-ball game with the rival school was imminent
and the team was working like mad. Leslie Manor had been beaten the year
before and a second defeat would spell disgrace. Eleanor was on the
sub-team. So was Electra. The captain and one forward were seniors.
Aileen center, Sally a forward, Beverly had made good as guard and was
working like a Trojan for the great event.
The Friday afternoon before the game a party of girls were taken to the
village to do some shopping. Nothing more diverting than purchasing new
shoe ties, hairpins, bows, and various other trifles. Also to make sure
that the decorations ordered for the gymnasium would be punctually sent
over to the school that afternoon and last, but by no means least, to
indulge in chocolate sodas etc., at the big drug store.
It so happened that Miss Forsdyke, the Latin teacher was acting as
chaperone that afternoon and Miss Forsdyke was alive just exactly two
thousand years after her time. She should have lived about 55 B.C., for
in reality she was living in that period right in the Twentieth Century
A.D. and was so lost to all things modern, and so buried in all things
ancient, that she was never quite fully alive to those happening all
around her. As a chaperone she was "just dead easy" Sally said. A more
absent-minded creature it would have been hard to come upon.
Sally, Aileen and Beverly were lingering over the last delicious
mouthfuls of nut sundaes. Electra had finished hers and gone to an
adjoining counter to make a purchase. Miss Forsdyke, who had declined
Sally's invitation to have a sundae, was selecting a tooth brush at an
adjoining counter when Beverly asked:
"Miss Forsdyke, why can't we carry the flags and ribbons back with us?
Then we would be sure of them."
Miss Forsdyke laid down the tooth brush, picked it up again, hesitated,
then walked toward Beverly, saying, "I am not quite sure that Miss
Woodhull would approve. She does not like the pupils to carry
parcels--large ones, I mean--and these would be quite large, would they
not?"
"Then why not phone to her to ask if we may?" suggested Sally.
"Why-er-I-suppose I-I could. Will you kindly direct me to the public
tooth brush?" she turned to the clerk to ask. "Oh no, no, I mean the
public telephone booth," she corrected, coloring a deep pink.
"It's behind you," answered the clerk, trying not to laugh, and pointing
to the booth which was exactly behind Miss Forsdyke. Still grasping her
tooth brush she scuttled into the booth.
Naturally, Electra had been an interested listener and Electra's mind did
not grasp two ideas simultaneously as a rule. She had not yet made her
wants known to the clerk, who stood deferentially waiting for her to do
so. As the possibility seemed vague he asked politely.
"What can I do for you, Miss?" and nearly disappeared beneath the show
case when Electra answered.
"Will you please give me a glass eye. No, no, I mean a glass eye _cup_."
"That's no school, it's a blooming lunatic asylum," clerk No. 1 declared
to clerk No. 2 as the last pair of shoeheels disappeared through the
door, "an' the _old_ one's the looniest of them all."
Nevertheless, some of those "lunatics" put up a good game of basket-ball
the next afternoon.
As the game progressed the school and the spectators were jubilant. At
least one-half of the latter were, and none more so than two girls who
had come with the rival team, as all the Leslie Manor girls believed,
and, although strangers, certainly enthused more over the blue and
yellow, the Leslie Manor colors, than over the green and red.
"Look at those two stunning girls in the third row on the left side,
Aileen. Do you know who they are?" asked Sally, during one of the
intermissions.
"Never laid eyes on them before," replied Aileen. Isn't the tall fair one
beautiful though? I've never seen such eyes and skin in all my life.
"She knows how to dress too, believe me," was Sally's admiring comment.
"That's a stunning velveteen suit she has on, and her hat well, New York
or Paris, sure."
"The smaller one must be attractive too. But isn't it funny that she
should wear her chiffon veil under her lace one instead of outside of it?
I wish she'd raise them properly; I want to get a good look at her face.
Somehow she reminds me of someone I've met before but I can't think of
whom. We'll ask Beverly." But just then the whistle blew and the game was
on again.
When Leslie Manor won on a score of twenty to seven, the girl in the
chiffon veil jumped to her feet, pitched her muff high into the air and
yelled. Then evidently overwhelmed with mortification at her wild
demonstration instantly dropped back upon her chair, aided in her descent
thereto by a vigorous tug from her companion.
At Beverly's grasping, "Oh!" Aileen and Sally started. Beverly had not
noticed the two girls until that instant.
"What's the matter?" asked Sally.
"Nothing. Just a funny kink in my side. It's all over now."
"You've played too hard. I knew you would. Come quick and get a good
rub-down. You're nearly all in. Why didn't we realize it sooner. Come
on," and full of solicitude they hurried her away to the dressing-room,
her supposed indisposition driving all thoughts of the strange girls from
their heads, and when the three were dressed and ready to join their
companions the visitors had disappeared; gone undoubtedly with others who
had come to witness the game, and they never thought to mention their
presence to Beverly.
That they in common with the other guests had been ushered into Miss
Woodhull's library, where, agreeable to custom, hot chocolate was served,
had each, by some miraculous means contrived to be served _three times_,
and had held a brief but most flattering conversation with Miss Woodhull,
Sally, Beverly and Aileen never suspected. When they took their departure
Miss Woodhull suddenly remembered that they had not been introduced to
her and that she had not the vaguest idea of their names. Which of her
teachers or pupils had been so very remiss?