ZAIDEE
They were the usual lot of girls in a sort of hubbub together. With the
exception of the Kirklands they were not taking life seriously as yet.
They studied and sang, painted, wrote verses, sometimes were caught on
trigonometry and occasionally made awful translations in Latin and
French. They changed their ideals, they vowed friendship and fell out
with each other, they were spiteful and willful and sweet and penitent,
and if "a boy's will's the wind's will," a young girl's will in the
unformed years is not much better.
Phillipa Rosewald was a sort of leader. A kind of charming girl with
many varieties, fascinating, making you like her when she chose and then
giving you pin pricks instead of caresses. Before she put on long
dresses boys were quarrelling about her and she seemed to sandwich love
affairs in with her lessons; she had fine taste in dressing, she could
tie a bow, or trim a hat, or furbish up an evening waist in a manner
that filled her comrades with envy, and she was a fairly good scholar as
well.
But Zaidee with her graciousness and sweet temper won all hearts. Every
one was eager to have some little claim upon her. Her mother's sad
accident and her father being one of the survivors of a fierce Indian
battle made her a sort of heroine. She was not quite an angel but very
human and with the peculiar sweetness that always disarms criticism.
And although it was considered a rather aristocratic school there were
the usual feuds and bits of jealousy inseparable from a crowd of girls,
the days in the main passed delightfully, and now they were all
interested in the rehabilitation of Crawford House, the coming of the
young midshipman and the lovely mother who at last had an almost
miraculous restoration to health and strength.
Crawford House was full of workmen. Aunt Kate was supervisor. Willard
was staying with his parents.
The house stood on a little eminence and had two terraces that were a
mass of bloom in the summer. A broad portico ran on two sides and at the
end fronting the south there was an imposing tower, many windows. Back
of it was a flower garden, a vegetable garden, barns, carriage house and
a useful little green-house.
"Dear, I hope the workmen will be through early in December," said Aunt
Kate. "Then there is all the furnishing. Only about six weeks. Does
school seem natural, Zay? Have the girls gone way ahead of you?"
"I hardly know yet," was the laughing reply. "Mrs. Barrington hasn't
really set me at work."
"Are there many new scholars?"
"Not in our department, but it seems nice to be a school girl again and
not a globe trotter."
"But you didn't go quite round the world."
"I'm glad there's something left. Look girls, this is my room with the
southern and western exposure. I think I'll have it done in pale green
and pink, Aunt Kate. That will tone down the summer sunshine. Phil and I
have been discussing colors."
"That will be pretty, and you can _stand_ green. It would turn some
complexions yellow," returned Aunt Kate.
"How short the days are growing! And it gets dark so soon. Girls, we had
better hurry off home."
"Shall I order samples of green, Zaidee?"
"Yes, Aunt Kate, if you please."
It was quite a treat to sit down at the table with a group of girls.
Madame Eustice talked to them in French and Zay surprised her with her
readiness and improved pronunciations.
"And I am quite a proficient in German as far as talking goes, I've
heard so much of it, and it seemed so funny at first. Though a good many
of the servants and waiters speak a little English."
Zay glanced down at the other table. She singled out Miss Nevins who had
quite a fancy hair dressing and a pink bow. But she saw no one she
thought Miss Boyd. Then there was a full hour to the study period.
Lilian and her mother often took this meal which was only a kind of high
tea in their room. Mrs. Boyd could not overcome a half fear of Mrs.
Dane. Then she read to her mother until it was time to go to the study.
Often she left her mother asleep in the big easy chair. Oh, for some one
to listen and to respond! But the practice was good for her if no one
listened.
Zay kept glancing furtively down at the table of the younger class. Yes,
there was Miss Boyd. She went toward a pupil, as a small hand was held
up. There was something interesting in the face, and the young student
would glance up and smile. Was there any resemblance, she wondered? The
hair was darker, but the complexion was certainly fine. Miss Nevins had
a peevish look tonight and said something rather cross. Miss Boyd
preserved her serenity.
Lilian was having quite a delightful new interest in the Trenhams. Her
exercise hour led to a walk down there and an engaging half visionary
talk with Claire who had wonderful adventures with a pretty squirrel who
ran up and down a tree in range with her window. Or it was some belated
bird who had lost his way south and had to hide to keep out of the way
of the hunters.
"Why do they let them go out and kill the poor birdies?" she asked
plaintively. "I should think it would be braver to go to Africa and
shoot lions and tigers and those cruel animals that eat up human beings,
and the dear pretty little squirrels!"
"Why, indeed?" Lilian had often thought of it herself.
Or it would be a story of a fairy who had a long search for a charmed
ring that would bestow a wonderful power over everything in the forest
and give the animals the gift of speech. Claire told one, Lilian must
take the next.
"Edith comes home so tired sometimes. You are always fresh," the child
said.
Then the girl would meet Edith who would turn about and walk with her
and listen to the hopes and ambitions and dreams she could tell to no
one else. So she had a comforting secret life.
Zaidee Crawford made two or three slight advances, but they were
distantly received, and Zay was not used to being rebuffed. She was not
much of an analyst and thought Miss Boyd very cold natured. But now and
then the enthusiasm of the true student broke out in some class
recitation and it transfigured her.
"Our pupil teacher quite distinguished herself today," said Phillipa
Rosewald, "though I must say it was in exceedingly bad taste."
"Why bad taste?" asked Zay. "I thought it fine."
"She might have been a little more modest. You see, my dear child, we
are not preparing for teachers nor to vulgarly distinguish ourselves. I
thought Miss Grayson did not quite like it. Are you really growing fond
of your double? But I can't imagine you standing up in that bold
fashion."
Zay was silent. It always annoyed her to have Miss Boyd called her
double. The figure and manner was so different. Zay was so light and
airy, she seemed rather to skim over space than to walk, and every
motion was replete with grace, while Miss Boyd was stately, and when
critical eyes were upon her, sometimes seemed awkward.
Miss Nevins certainly was improving. Thanks to Mrs. Barrington's regimen
her complexion had cleared up, she kept her hair in a tidier fashion.
May Gedney had insisted upon her wearing something beside the dismal
browns.
"Send this to your dressmaker and have a green suit trimmed with bands
of gray fur--if it won't be too extravagant."
"Oh, father will pay the bill. He hasn't much idea of what things cost."
"See here--I know a lovely dressmaker in Livingston. I sometimes go
there. Mrs. Barrington would let us go over with Miss Davis, I am sure,
and as she keeps samples we could choose, and she could take your
measure. I don't believe it would cost half as much, and will be
prettier. Your clothes are too old."
"Oh, you are an angel," and May had to submit to an embrace.
Mrs. Barrington agreed. She gave Miss Nevins some money.
"As they are going on your business you must pay their expenses," she
said.
Miss Nevins felt really grand. This was a true friend.
One evening she thrust a note in Lilian's hand. She had taken a seat on
the other side of the table.
Lilian read it in her room. She smiled, yet she felt a little hurt after
all she had done for Alice.
"I hope you won't feel bad because I changed my seat. Some of those
hateful girls called us Beauty and the Beast. I know I am not handsome,
but then rich people seldom are, and I don't think you are so very. I
have a new dear friend who really does care for me and is going to plan
about my clothes. Of course you don't know how the real style ought to
dress, and I don't think mamma would like me to be intimate with a girl
whose mother was caretaker here. It's such a pity she is, for if she
wasn't here you wouldn't need to say anything about it and would be more
respected. I hope you won't be mad.--Alice."
"I won't be ashamed of her, poor dear mother," Lilian said resolutely.
But if she were like Mrs. Trenham, and the change would not be so very
great, she mused.
Miss Nevins avoided her for the next few days. Lilian did not seem to
notice it.
Mrs. Barrington called the girls together one evening.
"Young ladies," she began, "I have a plan to lay before you. There have
always been some Hallowe'en plays and tricks that often seem both
childish and reprehensible. I am going to propose you lay aside all
these and instead let me give you a party with music, dancing and some
refreshments. I will invite the young gentlemen of the neighborhood,
many of whom you have met at church and elsewhere. What do you say?"
"Oh, Mrs. Barrington, that is utterly lovely."
Phillipa Rosewald sprang up and clasped both hands. There was a bevy of
girls about her and they all talked at once.
"Understand, there are to be no tricks played in each other's rooms. You
have been making very good progress so far this year and I am sincerely
pleased. As many of you will go away on Saturday there can be no
Christmas festivities, but this may be quite as pleasant."
"Oh, Mrs. Barrington, it will be just delightful!" cried Phillipa with
enthusiasm. "Thank you a dozen times for thinking of it."
"You have accepted some invitations from outside and it seems the thing
to return them. Every girl will be at her liberty to ask one guest and
there are several I wish to invite. I hope you will have a happy time."
"Oh, we are sure of that."
"And now I hope your scholarship will be excellent at the winter
examinations. It will be the last year for some of you and for your
parents' sake I hope you will stand high."
The leisure of the next two days was spent working out lists.
"Oh," declared May Gedney, "I'd like to invite at least four. Ally and
Archie Holmes, and the Pridhams. I suppose we can ask a young
gentleman?"
"Let us make a list and divide up. Archie Holmes is such a delightful
dancer, and Allie is so full of fun, and so many of us were at her
birthday party."
"Do you suppose the smaller fry will invite their friends?"
"I think not, though they may be allowed to come in as spectators."
"That Nevins girl is a pretty dancer. What lots of fancy things she
knows."
"I don't imagine we will have any high flings," laughing.
"Well, May, you ask Ally, and Nelly White ask Archie. That's the way we
must pair off, and divide up the Pridhams. We must only ask one girl in
a family. I'm afraid we won't have boys enough to go round."
"Then some of the girls will have to play Knights as we do in the
practices."
After much study they presented their list to Mrs. Barrington who
thought it very judicious. She said she had several gentlemen to add.
Then there was a time about the frocks. Miss Nevins unpacked two party
gowns that had remained in her trunk when it was taken up stairs. A
pretty rather simple white cluna silk and a pink satin.
"Oh, the satin is altogether too ornate, too really old," declared
Phillipa.
"But it's so much prettier," longingly.
"I don't know about that, and I can tell you Mrs. Barrington will hustle
it back in the box mighty quick. The party is for the older girls. You
will simply be allowed in to look and partake of the treat if you are
well behaved little girls."
Miss Nevins pouted.
Her new winter suit had come home and it was really admirable, making
her look like quite a different girl.
"I don't see what that New York dressmaker can be thinking about. She
makes a regular guy of her. And since Mrs. Barrington shut down on so
much sweet stuff how her complexion has improved. But the morning baths
are a terror to her. She is sure she can keep clean on a wash once a
week."
"And girls, every time her mother wrote she enclosed five dollars. She
didn't give any account of that for awhile, and Mrs. Barrington was
quite affronted when her mother advised her to go to a restaurant now
and then to get a good meal. I must say our living here is of the very
best."
There was no dissenting voice.
They were all in a gale about the party. There was always a lawn fete
when school closed in June at which the girls invited relatives and
friends. Hallowe'en had been devoted to tricks in each other's room,
sewing up sheets, sprinkling cayenne pepper and rice, and occasionally
putting a toad in the bed if one could be found, or an artificial one
would answer the purpose. Mrs. Barrington had made some appeals, but
this new plan was a decided success. The girls were gay and eager with
delight, and wonder who of the young men of the town would be asked.
Mrs. Barrington called Lilian in her room and spoke of the party, giving
her a special invitation.
"It is very kind of you," the girl answered, "and I hope you will not
think me ungrateful if I decline. I am not used to gayeties of this
kind, and"--with a smile--"I have no party dress."
"That can easily be remedied. I really think you are making a mistake by
effacing yourself so readily on all occasions. You are becoming a fine
scholar and I am much interested in your welfare. Your hour in the study
room is not at all detrimental--"
"There are other things. Oh, Mrs. Barrington let me keep to my own
sphere. I have always been poor, I have not been much among what are
called better class girls, but I do know they have better advantages and
are trained in pretty and attractive society ways. Public schools are
more on a level. I am not finding fault. My heart is full of gladness
for this lovely offer that came to my mother and me. Some of the young
ladies have been very kind. Believe me I am happy, but I should feel out
of place in a gay party."
She looked really beautiful standing there, the bright flush coming and
going over her face, her mouth with its winsome curves, her eyes so full
of gratitude and candor. What was the elusive remembrance?
"You shall do as you like in this matter," returned Mrs. Barrington.
"But at the beginning of the new term I propose to have matters on a
somewhat different footing. You will end by being my best scholar."
"Oh, thank you a thousand times for taking so much interest in me. I
hope I shall be able to repay you."
"My dear child some of the best things in the world are done without
pay. Appreciation is better and you have a great deal of that."
The party was a great success. Several of the older graduates were asked
in. There was music, some conversational plays where quick wit was
necessary and in this Phillipa excelled. Then the dancing was charming
to the young crowd. They were very merry over the refreshments, then
dancing again.
"It's been just delightful! I never had such a good time in my life. Oh,
Mrs. Barrington, how can we ever thank you," and a dozen other glad
acknowledgments. They were all tired enough to tumble into bed, with no
thought of tricks to disturb them.
Miss Nevins admitted that she had a first class time. "Only I wish I had
been up in more dances. And if they'd had some fancy dances! I do love
them so!"
"Hardly at such a party," said Phillipa, dryly. "And the maid of the
evening who did not come. Do you suppose she was asked?" inquired Louie
Howe.
"Oh, she would have come quick enough if she'd had anything to wear,"
subjoined Miss Gedney. "Well, I'm glad she didn't or wasn't. It would
have been rather embarrassing."
"When I meet her abroad in the capacity of attendant to some charming
young lady I should not know her, of course."
There was a laugh at that.
Then began the mouth of real study though there were a few heart
burnings that Miss Boyd should come up to the best in some of the
classes.
November was unusually beautiful and the week of Indian summer a dream
for a poet. Lilian's afternoon hour out of doors was the concentration
of delight. The handsome town, the picturesque houses, where late
blooming flowers were a delight on many a lawn, the peaceful winding
river whose shadows seemed to depict a fascinating underworld, the
rising ground beyond with its magnificent trees, its tangled nooks of
shrubbery with scarlet berries, so stirred Lilian's fine nature that she
felt as if she must burst into poesy.
No, she would never give up the splendid, inspiriting dreams of youth.
Ambitious and noble natures are often haunted by romantic ideals and
glimpses of the future reaching up to unharmful standards that did seem
possible. These dreams were better than the feverish, vitiating novels
some of the girls poured over in private.
She was making a warm friend of Edith Trenham, who was often puzzled by
her. How did she get this wonderful insight into such a beautiful world
full of possible endeavor.
The simple prettiness of the Trenham home was very charming to her. This
was what she would make for her mother, only there would be a little
more. Portfolios of engravings, a vase from Japan, a curious Indian
ornament with ages back of it. Already Barrington House was shaping her
taste in many matters.
Then it was a pleasure to talk to the imaginative Claire who reveled in
the Knights of Arthur's time, the tastes of Mythology which she twisted
about to suit her fancy.
"I like Miss Lilian so much," she would say. "She has traveled in so
many countries. She knows all about Eskimo babies and little Chinese
girls who can't go anywhere because they have such crooked feet. And we
play at going to see them, and they give us such curious things to eat.
And there are real little Greek children, who lived in Bible times. Oh,
it's just lovely!"
"You make Claire very happy," Edith would say in a fond tone.
"I like to make her happy, and I want to make my mother happy. She has
had such a hard life."
"You are a dear daughter."
Was she being a dear daughter to her mother? Mrs. Boyd seemed to grow
more distant, more dreary and absent. Sometimes between classes she
would run in and take her mother's work, read to her evenings, but then
she always fell asleep; but the girl went on. It was more company to
read aloud. Just now she was deep in the making of Beautiful Florence.
Oh, would she ever get to know all the famous cities of the world?
How the time sped on! There was one snow storm, not a very deep one, but
enough to call out the sleighs, and what a fairyland it made of Mount
Morris. Saturday all the girls chipped in and hired a big sleigh and a
laughing crew of ten had what they thought the merriest time of their
lives.
Just as they were getting out Louie Howe caught her skirt on something
and there was a tear.
"Oh, girls! My best Sunday skirt! And we--some of us are invited to Mrs.
Westlake's to dinner, and she goes away on Monday. Oh, I wonder if Mrs.
Boyd can mend it fit to be seen! I can't take it to the tailors now."
"She darns beautifully."
"Well, that's what she's here for; mender in general."
"But it seems dreadful to ask her to do it in the evening, and the
daylight is almost gone."
Louie hated to give up whatever her mind was set upon. She hurriedly
changed her frock and put on a light evening dress. With her skirt in
hand she crossed the hall. The door stood open. The house was always
warm. Mrs. Boyd sat in an easy chair. Helen on one of the fancy stools
under the gas burner with a book in her hand. Louie swept past her.
"Oh, Mrs. Boyd. I want you to mend my skirt. I've given it a dreadful
tear. I can't take it to the tailors and four of us are invited out to
dinner after church, so I must have it."
Mrs. Boyd rose and examined it. "It is a bad tear, but if you _must_
have it--"
"Yes, I surely must. O, I think you can do it. There's the whole
evening."
Then she turned away. Lilian's temper flared up at white heat.
"Oh, mother, why didn't you tell her you could not? She has other
dresses to wear. Let me take it back to her--"
"No, dear, I'll do it. Light the lamp for me. Why you know that's part
of my business," and Mrs. Boyd gave a tremulous little laugh.
"I think Mrs. Barrington would not have such a thing done on Saturday
night," was her resolute reply, but she lighted the lamp and brought her
mother's work table with its handy cabinet.
"You see a good part of it will go under this plait. Oh Lilian, do not
mind such little things."
The insolent manner had hurt the girl keenly. Louie was on the promotion
list and would graduate in June. She held her head very high. Her father
had promised her a handsome watch with a beautiful neck chain that could
be detached when required and she felt sure of it now.
Mrs. Boyd basted the tear on a piece of cloth and began her work.
"Lilian," she said, "will you go and see if there is an iron on the
range, and ask cook if I can come down by and by."
Then she began her work. The underneath part at first, but somehow her
hand trembled. Lilian watched with an indignant, aching heart. After
awhile her mother leaned back with a sigh.
"I believe I shall have to get glasses," she said wearily. "I cannot do
fine work in the evening. I am afraid I shall spoil it, and I've always
been such a neat worker."
"Let me finish," said the girl. Every inch of her protested, but it was
for her mother's sake. Lately she had done several things to ease her.
"Yes, let me," she went on, taking the work from her mother's hands.
"You know I can darn nicely."
Lilian took infinite pains. It was slow work, but at last it was
accomplished.
"You are such a dear, good daughter, and it is said booky people are
never anything with a needle, but you could get your living with it."
Then she took her work down stairs and came back flushed and smiling.
"Look, Lilian," in a tone of pride, "it hardly shows! Cook said she
never saw more beautiful darning and that in a big city I could make a
fortune at lace mending. Will you take it to Miss Howe?"
"No, mother," and Lilian spoke in a dignified but not unkindly manner.
"We are not here to run and wait on the girl. Let Miss Howe come for
it."
Mrs. Boyd felt disappointed. She wanted some one beside cook to praise
her handiwork.
Louie fidgeted about her skirt. She and Zay were in Phil's room talking
over the coming Christmas and Mrs. Crawford's return.
"I wonder why that girl doesn't bring my skirt. Maybe they've spoiled
it."
"Have you sent a maid?"
"Why no. I meant Miss Boyd. She oughtn't be above such things."
"Still, she isn't here to run on errands. I think Mrs. Barrington treats
her quite as if she were a scholar, and she's a fine one, too."
"Some day she'll brag of having been educated here, though Mount Morris
doesn't set out to furnish teachers, but the training of young ladies.
Mother likes it because there was no opportunity of making undesirable
acquaintances," and Louie gave her head a toss.
"Is Miss Nevins so very desirable?" asked Zay with a flash of mirth in
her eye.
"Still, if you met her abroad as a rich banker's daughter or heard of
her being presented to the Queen--"
"Girls, don't quarrel about either one of them. Alice Nevins is a fool
and always will be. Lilian Boyd is smart and ambitious but there _is_
the bar sinister. Her mother isn't the sort of person to come up in the
world and when Miss Lilian gets there she'll ship off her old mother,
put her in an Old Woman's Home. I despise that toss of her head, just as
if she was up to the highest mark already; but they are not worth
disputing about."
Zaidee Crawford drew a long breath. She had almost courage enough to
stand up for her, then she remembered some one had said you were never
sure that some disgraceful thing might come out. Who knew anything about
her father? There was a good deal of pride of birth at Mount Morris as
is apt to be the case where well to do people have lived for a century
or so.
Louie sent a maid for her skirt and admitted that a tailor couldn't have
done it better.
"Only a week" the girls said with their good night to each other.
Not that they were so tired of school, but Christmas was a joyous
occasion, and going home a treat.