A NEW OUTLOOK
Lilian Boyd glanced around the station at Mount Morris with a kind of
joyous surprise and wonder. The beautiful town with its straight
streets, some of them with a narrow park in the centre, houses that were
palatial to her inexperienced eyes, with terraced lawns, wide porches,
graceful shrubbery and a profusion of flowers. True, the station was
quite at one side and a little farther down the road crossed the river
that went meandering along, too winding and shallow for business
purposes. Opposite there was a succession of wooded hills with here and
there a stately residence.
"How beautiful, mother!" Lilian cried, moved in every pulse of her
being, her eyes lustrous with tears, her lips quivering.
The beauty did not so move the mother. She was embarrassed and shrank
when the coachman with an authoritative air approached them.
"Mrs. Boyd?" tentatively. There had been but few passengers and they had
gone their way.
She glanced timidly at Lilian who answered for her.
"Give me your checks, please, and I will order the trunks sent up."
"There is only one," in a deprecating tone.
Lilian was glad she had insisted on a nice new trunk.
"This way please," and he took the girl's satchel. Mrs. Boyd followed
rather than led, but her daughter stood aside so that she should be
assisted in first.
"What a beautiful town!" she exclaimed involuntarily. She had a feeling
that they were recovering from a reverse of fortune and this was their
rightful place. Then she smiled at the absurdity.
Mount Morris Seminary was rather at the lower part of the town, and a
long level stretched between that and the river, broken by a few clumps
of shrubbery. The house was a handsome old style building, colonial in
its aspect with its broad piazza and fluted columns going up to the
second story.
There was an imposing entrance, but the porte cochere was at the side
where the wide screen door showed a sort of reception hall, furnished
with willow and splint belongings, a table with magazines and papers and
two great jars of ferns.
A tidy maid received them. "Would they please be seated, Mrs.
Barrington would be down in a moment."
Lilian drew a long breath of rapture. To live in a place like this! To
wander in the beautiful garden, to work and study in such inspiring
environments. Yes, she had come to work as well. She had been too young
to discriminate, but in an instant she seemed to realize how bitter the
struggle with poverty and discouragement had been, the hurry with hardly
an hour's real enjoyment. No wonder it had made her mother worn and
hesitating, fearful, and here everything was so leisurely aspected.
She heard the soft trail of a gown over the stairs and rose in eager
expectancy.
Mrs. Barrington was a handsome woman at sixty, tall and straight, with a
gracious presence. Her hair was snowy white as the girl had hoped and
lay in loose waves about her forehead. Her dark eyes were not easily
evaded, but her manner of smiling serenity was in itself a welcome.
"I am afraid it has been a long and tiresome journey in this warm
weather, but a few days' rest will restore you I hope. You look very
delicate, Mrs. Boyd."
She gave the hand a friendly pressure.
"Mother had so much to do before we started," explained Lilian, "and
the change--"
"And the parting with old friends," with her sympathetic smile. "I hope
you will soon feel at home and like us all. Mrs. Searing gave you both
such an excellent recommendation, and I confess I take a warm interest
in girls who are eager for advancement. Now allow me to show you to your
room and shall I send you up some tea? That is a rather pleasant English
fashion, I am glad you came so promptly for my housekeeper has gone on
her vacation and we shall have the better chance to get acquainted."
"Oh, thank you," said Lilian warmly.
They followed her up the stairs where a cross hall led to a wing. The
room was large with two single beds, the windows in white drapery, a
capacious bureau, a dressing table, a washing stand in a recess, a
writing desk and some book shelves. It looked so cozy and inviting.
"I will send up the tea, and I think your mother had better take a rest.
If you like to come down you will find me in the hall."
"Thank you," she replied. "I shall be glad to come."
She took her mother's bonnet and wrap and placed her in the rocking
chair.
"Oh, isn't this a splendid closet? It's like another room. We are going
to be so happy here; I feel it in every pulse. Heaven bless Mrs. Searing
for finding us this shelter. Now drink this cup of tea. Thank you," to
the maid.
It was reviving.
Lilian brushed out her dress and smoothed her hair. Her coat had left
some wrinkles in her shirtwaist, but she stretched and patted them out.
Then when she had seen her mother comfortable on the bed, she came down.
Even the little freshening made her look bright and rosy and her eyes
were vivid with the light of pleasure.
Mrs. Barrington had a bit of fancy work in her hands which were white
and shapely. She studied the young girl. It seemed to call up something
from the long past years that eluded and yet piqued her. How different
she was from the mother.
"Have you always lived in that western town, Laconia, I believe it is,
and was it your mother's birthplace?"
"Yes, I am quite sure. I was away once as a baby. Mother went to her
brother's after father died but did not like it, and Laconia is an ugly
manufacturing town of smoke and grime, but it is said to have a fine
High School. Of course there are some rich manufacturers."
"How long were you in it?"
"Two years, and I was fairly broken hearted at the thought of not
completing the course, but mother wasn't strong as she had been,
and"--yes, she would be bravely honest--"we were poor, mother's little
money was almost spent. Boys supported themselves while they are
studying, why shouldn't girls?"
Oh, where had she seen just that proud uplifting look! It puzzled the
lady.
"I am always pleased to help an ambitious girl along, and you have a
dignity which will be a great aid in teaching. Mrs. Searing said that
was your desire."
"I love to study. I think I shall love to teach, and sometime I hope to
go to college."
"I think you will work your way there. What branches were you in?"
Lilian was very frank. She showed that she was a thorough student.
History was one of her delights. Latin was the only language admitted
until the third year, and in mathematics she seemed well grounded.
"I want some one to take charge of a few of the younger classes and be
of service in the study hour from eight to nine. I think you will fit in
admirably, but do you think your mother is quite strong enough?"--and
she paused.
"Oh, she is used to sewing of all kinds. She is very tired now and I
think she has been worried all the time lest something should go wrong
with this nice offer. You see sewing is not very profitable ordinarily
unless you can do high up dressmaking or are forewoman in some factory,
and I couldn't sew for a living. It is one thing over and over. You are
never learning anything new, broadening out, enjoying the wisdom of the
master minds, the beautiful poetry, the grand philosophies. Oh, am I a
very romantic or conceited girl?" and she paused with a bright flush.
"You are meant for a scholar."
Just that instant the trunk came and Lilian excused herself and went up
with it. Her mother was up and looked rested.
"And please put on that black and white lawn, even if it is a little
crumpled, and my white batiste always shakes out. It is nice if it isn't
very fine."
The bell sounded and they went down. The table was laid in the pretty
little tea room. Lilian ate and drank with a sensation of delight. The
china was so delicate, the table so beautifully arranged, the serving so
perfect. Often in reading a story Lilian had fancied herself the heroine
and enjoyed the feast.
The child has much finer breeding than the mother, Mrs. Barrington
mused. She almost fancied she detected something furtive about Mrs.
Boyd. Was she being won by the girl's proud face to the detriment of the
mother? It seemed to her that Mrs. Boyd stood in awe of her daughter.
Afterward they went to the parlor which was a fine large room splendidly
furnished, Lilian thought. There was a grand piano, an organ, two
beautiful marbles, vases and pictures. There was a wide hall that was
like another room. Here on the west side was the school and recitation
rooms, the girl's dining room and a commodious kitchen.
"Will you go up stairs?" asked Mrs. Barrington.
Lilian answered eagerly, Mrs. Boyd followed.
Over this side were the dormitories and baths. Some rooms accommodated
two beds, others only one. They were neat and pleasant and had been
lately put in order.
"I do not care for more than twenty boarding pupils," explained Mrs.
Barrington. "That makes a nice family with sufficient variety of
character. I am much interested in the development of girls, and the
town has nothing detrimental in it. We have a fine music hall where
there are concerts and lectures, occasionally a play, and a nice
library. The walks and drives about are beautiful."
The hall was not so wide up here. There were two entrances to the family
side, the one to Mrs. Barrington's rooms which was divided by a short
hall from those of the assistants. Two of the teachers lived at the
school, though one of them had a room where she could be in touch with
the girls.
When they reached her room Mrs. Boyd said--
"If you don't mind I will retire. I am so little used to long journeys
that this has fatigued me. No, Lilian you need not stay. I shall not
want anything. By morning I shall be rested," and she waved her away.
"Are you quite sure?" asked the girl, "and you will not be lonely?"
"Oh no, I shall enjoy the quiet."
"Are you fond of music?" asked Mrs. Barrington. "Shall I play a little
for you?"
"Oh, that would be delightful. I have heard very little that might be
called refined music."
Then she knew the difference.
She was charmed, though the hostess played mostly the simpler things.
She thought she could have listened all night.
A night's rest refreshed Mrs. Boyd very much and the certainty that
Lilian had found a good friend. For she knew she could not stand the
struggle much longer. She was really worn out.
Her duties were explained in a very kindly manner. There were the linen
closets at hand, the bedding that she was to deal out as it was needed,
the table napery. What she did for the girls was quite her own affairs.
"And you must not allow them to impose on you. My rule is that all small
bills must be settled once a month. Most of the girls get their
allowance then. You will have considerable leisure for yourself. I hope
you will soon feel very much at home."
As for Lilian she seemed in an enchanted land. Such stores of splendid
reading, such a magnificent out of doors! She and her mother were sent
out to drive, and the town was like the places she had read about in
books or the higher grade monthly papers. Then Mrs. Dane, the
housekeeper, returned and Miss Arran, who was a kind of secretary, took
her outing.
Mrs. Dane was a tall, rather severe looking person. All disputes with
the servants and any discomforts in the rooms were under her
jurisdiction. Why it was like a little kingdom in itself.
"Mrs. Boyd doesn't look very robust and seems rather timid, uncertain,
though if she is capable--" Mrs. Dane began rather sharply.
"She has been seamstress to a dressmaker for several years. I fancy she
has had it pretty hard for the last year or two, but Miss Lilian is very
bright and energetic, only I am afraid she will hold her head rather too
high."
"I fancy she will make an excellent teacher. That is her aim."
Mrs. Barrington had looked through the big book of photographs of school
girls. Some turns of the head, some glances and a sound in the voice
still puzzled her, but it was connected with something in the past. Few
young girls made characteristic portraits. Ah, here was one who had just
that poise, that eager ambitious expression. A Miss Mortimer who
certainly possessed fine abilities, and a resonant voice. She had taken
the lead in school entertainments, and then she had joined a theatrical
troupe and married a third rate actor, to the lady's great
disappointment.
"There is some likeness," she mused, "only the voice is much gentler,
more truly musical. It must be that is the elusive suggestion, and Miss
Boyd is wild over Shakespeare. It shall be my purpose to prevent her
from being an actress, unless she can stand in the front ranks."
Lilian and Miss Arran became friends almost at once. Both were fond of
walking, and to Lilian the beautiful aspect of the town, the woods and
the picturesque river with its many windings and suggestive nooks where
she always found a new touch of beauty stirred her with a vivid and
intense delight.
Then the real life began. Girls trouped in, trunks were set down with a
thump or oftener carried up on the third floor for unpacking. Girls in
the remnant of summer suits, for it was still warm, others in cloth or
serge, laughing chatting, running to and fro. How bright and merry it
all was!
It took some time to get settled. The first grade girls who were to be
the next year graduates, if they chose, were at one table with Mrs.
Barrington and Madame Eustis, the French teacher; the other had Miss
Arran, Miss Davis, and the new scholars or the second grade old ones.
Lilian was at this table, though they could have their meals in their
own rooms.
She felt very sorry for her neighbor, Alice Nevins, who was dreadfully
homesick and scarcely tasted anything, winking desperately to keep her
eyes from overflowing. Some of them looked very bright and jolly.
"Girls," exclaimed Louie Howe, as a group gathered on the lawn, "there's
a new pupil teacher, and you know that's one of Mrs. Barrington's fads.
Last year's girl wasn't much of a success it seems. I think it's that
lanky girl in brown silk who looks half frightened out of her wits, and
her mother is the seamstress and caretaker. I wouldn't have put her in
brown silk with that dull brown hair and wretched complexion."
"Thank fortune she isn't at our table!"
"Oh, Mrs. Barrington wouldn't put such a looking object with us. She
really doesn't know enough to last over night. There are eight new
scholars, three with us come for finishing touches, five in the second
grade."
"There's a girl I'd like to know with that splendid light hair, just
the least bit wavy. She sat opposite Miss Arran, and had a blue lawn
frock with the baby waist and lace yoke. She is fine looking; a little
too grave to be handsome, but her complexion is lovely. She's a princess
in disguise, I can tell by the way she holds her head. I shall throw
myself at her feet when I get a chance. It is a case of love at first
sight. There she is with that brown girl. I'd go over but I am afraid of
being snubbed. I do wonder who she can be, and there she's taking that
Elma Ransom under her wing. It will take the child five years to get up
to our first division." "That brown girl as you call her is a Miss
Nevins. Her parents have gone abroad, I've learned that much, and they
are well to do. That is the golden mean between comparative and great
wealth. Miss Vincent introduced her to me, and then she turned her to
that rather striking looking girl."
"And which do you suppose is Miss Boyd? Or has she run back to mamma's
sheltering wing?"
"I think she has discreetly retired. We must make some excuse to get in
to our lady of the needle. I'm sorry Miss Nevins isn't better looking
if she has plenty of money."
"Well, the gods were just this time. She will need the money to illumine
her pathway. Just see that girl in the blue frock. Why, they are
thronging about her."
Louie Howe went over and caught little Elma Ransome by the arms. She was
short and rather plump with an infantile face that made her look younger
than her years.
"Why Elly, I'm glad to see you back. Now this year you must study hard
and fill up some of the vacancies we graduates make." Then she glanced
around the group.
Elma flushed and then said a little awkwardly--"This is Miss Boyd, and
this Miss Nevins, and--I don't know all the names yet."
"You have more new scholars than we." Then she made a stiff little bow
and turned away to her own group.
"Girls, what _do_ you think? Why, I nearly fainted with surprise. 'Looks
_is_ often deceiving.' That girl I thought a princess in disguise is
Miss Boyd. Why she has airs and graces enough to amaze you. If her
mother is like that, will we ever dare to ask her to darn our
stockings?"
"Miss Boyd!" exclaimed a chorus of voices.
"Well, it's good we have learned the fact at once so we shall not make
any blunders. She'll be a sort of charity scholar working for her board
and training. Of course we shan't have anything to do with her as she
isn't in our set. Though it wouldn't be so bad but for the mother."
"That's real snobbish, Louie," said a girl.
"Well, I don't know, you have a right to choose your friends, and I
heard Mrs. Dane say something about their being very poor."
"Well, she's stylish and she has an air, and Mrs. Barrington wouldn't
take in any one objectionable. If my father should die I might be glad
to have some one take me in, and I expect to teach when I am through.
You see father has four more to educate."
"Well, Mattie Vincent, you can make a bosom friend of her for all that I
care."
"Oh girls, don't let's quarrel about her when we have just come and are
glad to see each other. I dare say Miss Boyd wont trouble us."
"She'll be pushing, and aspiring to the best--you'll see! One can tell
by the way she holds her head, and she _could_ stare you out of
countenance with those bold black eyes. I shall keep on my guard. You'll
see me take her down if she presumes."
But Lilian Boyd did not presume. She went to church with her mother on
Sunday in a simple white pique frock, and spent the evening on the back
porch with Miss Arran, not even going in the parlor for the singing, and
on Monday school duties began. The classes received considerable
accessions from the day scholars. Lilian had two of the younger classes
and she found a real pleasure in the teaching. Then she was in the Latin
class and proved herself an excellent scholar.
The evening hour was sometimes rather trying. Some of the girls asked
foolish questions just to perplex her. Occasionally she suggested they
should ask Miss Davis. The younger ones were quite tractable, though now
and then a spirit of fun broke out, set a-foot generally by the larger
girls.