DWELLERS IN CUBICLES.
"MY dear Molly," wrote her father, "when this reaches you, you will
have begun your new life us a student at Redgarth. From what your
grandmother tells me, I am sure the place will suit you, and I trust
you will derive all possible benefit from the sound education which you
are receiving. I may as well, however, say frankly that, for my own
part, I don't especially care for learned women. I like a girl to be
thoroughly well domesticated, and to think no household work beneath
her knowledge. When you come to me, you will have a great deal to do in
the way of superintending--you will be the mistress of a large staff
of servants; you will have to contend against the prejudices of race,
and the ignorance of the Hindu. I differ from most of my countrymen in
disliking the style of cooking which goes on here. I have no passion
for curries, and curry seems to be the sole thing which the Indian cook
considers necessary to digestion. I hope, Molly, you have a taste for
cooking. Does Miss Forester happen to have a class for the training
of young girls in this important department? If so, I beseech you, my
child, join it. I quite long for a few dishes in the old-fashioned
English style."
"Oh, when will he come to the point?" thought poor Molly, as her eyes
rushed over the page.
His honor, Judge Lavender, however, had by no means exhausted himself
on the all-important subject of dinner.
"You know, of old, my love, that I am easily pleased," he continued.
"A little clear soup nicely flavored, a cutlet done to a turn, with
the correct sauce,--understand, Molly, that everything depends on
the sauce,--a savory omelette, a _meringue_ or a jelly, make up the
simple dinner which more than satisfies your affectionate father. You
will think of this trifling matter, my darling, when you are perusing
your Latin and Greek, and those other abstruse subjects which are now
considered essential to the feminine mind."
"What would father think if he saw me puzzling my brains over 'Moral
Science'?" thought Molly, knitting her dark brows. "Oh, dear, dear!
I'm afraid he's got this cooking craze so strong on him at the present
moment that he will forget all about my darling Cecil."
She bent her head and continued to read her letter.
"Yes, I am enjoying excellent health; all the delicacy from which I
suffered some years ago has passed away. I am a hale and strong man,
and do not feel any inconvenience from this climate. I shall be able
to place you in a very nice position when you take the head of my
house, my dear little girl. Prepare for this time now by all the means
in your power; work hard, eat plenty, take abundance of exercise, and
come out to me in two years' time a fresh and beautiful specimen of
young English girlhood. I shall look forward to your first impressions
of Redgarth with much interest. From what your grandmother tells me,
Miss Forester must be a remarkable woman. I only trust she is not
too mannish. Whatever you do, Molly, strive to retain all the gentle
privileges of your sex. Endeavor to polish yourself in every way, my
love, and to acquire those nice accomplishments which are essential to
the comfort of man. I want you to be particular about your dress. Your
dear mother was. I would not have married her if this had not been the
case."
"Oh, I wish he wouldn't drag darling mother's name in," thought Molly,
her lips quivering. "Why do his letters, although I long so for them,
always set my teeth on edge?"
"I want you to learn grace and deportment, my darling," continued
Judge Lavender; "in particular, how to enter and leave a room nicely.
A little light repartee, not _too_ clever, in conversation, gives
sparkle, and is by no means amiss. For Heaven's sake, don't ever
consider that it is your duty to argue with men: just let them see that
you understand them; they like to be appreciated. Above all, learn
the art of making tea gracefully, and without any _contretemps_.
Deportment is fearfully overlooked, in these later days of our century.
Struggle for a dignified deportment, Molly, as you love me. Now I must
stop, my dear, or I shall miss the post.
"Your affectionate father,
"CHARLES LAVENDER."
"Oh, good gracious! not a single word about Cecil," thought poor Molly.
"Yes, yes, here's a postscript; her name does come in--now, what does
he say?"
"As to your erratic and eccentric young friend, Cecil Ross, I own that
I feel a certain difficulty with regard to the request which you have
made. I am quite rich enough to oblige you in the matter as far as mere
money is concerned; my difficulty is on quite another head. The fact
is, I dread the influence this exceedingly brusque young person may
bring to bear on your own character, and hesitate, therefore, at the
thought of placing her at the same school."
"Oh, father! how can you!" thought Molly, quick tears filling her eyes.
"Oh, my darling, noble, brave Cecil! How little you know her!"
"I don't absolutely refuse your request, my dear," continued the judge,
"but before granting it, I have written to your grandmother to consult
her on the subject. She will give me an unprejudiced report with regard
to Cecil Ross. When I hear from her I will reply to you. Now, once
again, adieu. Your affectionate father."
After finishing her letter, Molly became oppressed by a strange sense
of limpness. The strength and go which her vigorous day had imparted
seemed suddenly to forsake her. She clasped her hands on her lap and
gazed straight before her. She had been indulging in a daydream, and
the letter which she had just received from the one whom she loved best
in the world, gave her a sense of chill which almost amounted to shock.
Tears rose slowly to her eyes; she slipped the letter into her pocket,
and going over to her little writing-table, took a sheet out of her
portfolio, and wrote a few hasty lines to her grandmother.
"I have scarcely time for more than a word," wrote Molly. "I have
just heard from father, who wants to consult you about Cecil. Please,
darling grannie, tell him what you really think of Cecil. Oh, I know
she will be quite safe in your hands. Please do not lose a mail in
writing to father, for the whole thing is so important.
"Your loving and anxious
"MOLLY."
Having finished the letter, Molly addressed it; she then ran quickly
downstairs, to discover by what means she could get it into the post.
Miss Leicester met, her in the hall.
"Well, Molly," she said, in a cheerful tone, "I hope you have by this
time got all your things nicely unpacked and in perfect order, so as to
be able to get into a good routine of work to-morrow."
"I am ever so sorry," answered Molly, "but the fact is----"
"What, my dear; why do you hesitate?"
"My things are not unpacked, Miss Leicester. I had a long letter from
father by this afternoon's post; I have been reading it; there was
a good deal in the letter to make me think; then it was absolutely
necessary for me to write this. Please tell me where I am to put this
letter in order that it may be posted."
"In the box just above your head which is marked 'Letters.' I am sorry
to say you are late for this evening's departure."
"Am I really? Oh, what a pity! When will the letter go?"
"This box will be cleared the last thing to-night, and the letter
will reach London, if London is its destination, some time to-morrow
afternoon. I am sorry your things are not unpacked; all your time
after supper ought to be taken up preparing for to-morrow's work.
Miss Shaw tells me that you are to write notes on two lectures which
she delivered this morning. Let me tell you, Molly, that Miss Shaw is
extremely particular. Well, I suppose I must excuse you this time, but
now run off, my love; don't waste a moment."
Molly ran upstairs; the cloud which her father's letter brought over
her spirit seemed to grow a little thicker.
"No one quite understands me except Cecil," she muttered. "How I wish
Cecil were here!"
She stooped over her trunks and began unpacking them. The occupation
did her good, and brought back some of her cheerfulness. She had nearly
come to the end of her task when the great gong for supper sounded
through the house. She found that she had no time to change her dress;
Miss Leicester always insisted upon punctuality at meals, and Molly
would be forced to appear in her thick morning dress. She hastily
smoothed her hair, and went downstairs feeling hot and uncomfortable.
Every other girl at Kate O'Connor's table looked cool and fresh.
"Come and sit near me, Molly," said Kate, in her kind voice. "After
supper," she whispered, as Molly sank down into the vacant chair, "I
have a little plan to talk over with you and Amy Frost. You must both
come and see me in my dormitory."
"Yes," replied Molly.
"I am not fortunate like you," answered Kate; "I can only receive
you in my share of the dormitory. Oh, I don't complain of my little
cubicle, but a cubicle is very different from a room."
"Yes," answered Molly, in a reflective tone. She thought that Kate's
eyes were fixed upon her with an expectant and wistful glance.
She longed to ask her to chum with her in her own pretty room, but the
thought of Cecil restrained her.
"Do you find the room very hot?" asked Amy Frost's voice at her elbow.
Molly, who was flushed already, grew redder than ever.
"I suppose I look very hot," she replied; "I forgot all about changing
my dress, I was so busy unpacking."
"Unpacking from tea to supper time!" responded Amy. "What a lot of
dresses you must have brought!"
"Don't be impertinent, Amy," said Kate.
"My dear Kitty, that is the last thing I wish to be, but patent facts
must draw forth certain conclusions. If Molly has not come here with
a supply of luggage resembling a trousseau, why should she take from
half-past four to seven o'clock to get her things in order?"
"I didn't," said Molly; "I was reading a letter and writing one."
She spoke defiantly. Her manner irritated Amy, who had not the best
temper in the world. She didn't speak at all for a moment; then,
bending forward, she said, in a semi-whisper:
"I hope you will forgive the remark I am going to make. I do it as
a matter of duty. It is the duty of old girls to give newcomers all
possible hints with regard to deportment, the rules of the place, etc.
Now, Miss Leicester is an angel, but she is an angel who likes us all
to observe the unspoken rules of the house. One of these is that we
should look nice and fresh at supper time. Those who do not carry out
her wishes are likely to get into her black books. Now, there is a
difference, a subtle difference, between the white and black books
even of an angel. Take the hint, Miss Lavender. I have spoken."
"I don't think you have spoken at all nicely, Amy," said Kate. "Why do
you persecute poor Molly? Of course she'll come downstairs properly
dressed to-morrow night."
"Have I made you angry?" asked Amy, looking hard at her.
"No, no!" replied Molly. She felt tears near her eyes, but made an
effort to recover herself. "The fact is," she said, making an effort
to speak pleasantly, "I knew perfectly well that I ought to dress for
supper. Hester was kind enough to tell me all about it last night,
but I had a long letter from father. This letter interested me very
much. I was obliged, in consequence of it, to write a hasty line to
my grandmother in London. The rest of my time was spent unpacking my
things, and I found, when the supper gong sounded, that I was still
in my morning dress. That is the whole story. If, on account of this
omission, I am likely to displease Miss Leicester, I had better go and
apologize after supper."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't do anything of the kind!" said Amy.
"Twenty to one Miss Leicester has never noticed you. Molly, your
generous explanation forces me to confess my fault. I am the soul of
mischief--in short, I am the Puck of St. Dorothy's. Your hot face, and
a certain little air of discomfort which it expressed, tempted me to
quiz you. Now, do forgive me, and think no more of the matter."
"I am glad you have said that, Amy," exclaimed Kate, in a pleased tone.
"Don't forget that you are to come up to the dormitory with Molly after
supper."
The meal had come to an end, and as no one seemed inclined to dance
that night, Molly soon found herself an inmate of Kate's pretty
cubicle. The dormitory consisted of a long, lofty room, with cubicles
at each side and a passage down the middle. The cubicles were divided
by wooden partitions, and were railed off in front by pretty curtains.
The whole arrangement was pleasant, bright, and convenient; the
drawback being that sounds could be distinctly heard from one cubicle
to another. With this one disadvantage, the cubicles possessed all the
comforts of small private rooms. In her own cubicle, each girl could
indulge her individual taste, and thus give a certain indication of her
character. Kate O'Connor's was decidedly of the chaotic order. As she
entered it now, followed by her two companions, she made a dash at her
hat, scarf, and gloves, which lay sprawling across her bed.
"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "how my Irish nature does burst forth! Do
stay near the door for a moment, girls, or rather, I should say, near
the curtains. I'll set this room right in a jiffy. Now, then, here
goes!"
She pulled open a drawer, thrust her hat and scarf out of sight, kicked
a box under the bed, pulled open the lid of her desk, swept a quantity
of papers into it, then faced her two companions with her hands to her
sides.
"_Voilà!_" she exclaimed; "now tell me, you two, is there a more
perfect room in the world? The fact is this, I like a certain degree
of order on the surface and disorder beneath. I couldn't live with
tidy drawers; they'd drive me mad in a week. I like a hay-stack in my
drawers; there's something exciting about never knowing where to find
your things. You pitchfork your hay-stack up and down, and there's no
knowing what may unexpectedly turn up. There are advantages in not
being too well acquainted with one's property. The other night, for
instance, I was in despair how to make myself look smart to meet our
beloved Leicester's angelic eye. I suddenly came across two yards of
pale green ribbon buried under a lot of _débris_ in the hay-stack. I
twisted half in my hair, and made a knot of the remaining half for
the neck of my blouse. Leicester, the darling, looked at me with much
approval. Have I shocked you, girls?"
"Not me," said Amy. "I know you far too well."
"You have astonished me," said Molly. "I certainly never thought you
were untidy. You don't look it a bit in your dress or hair. I rather
think I like you for it. I'm glad, at least, that you are not perfect."
"You dear little quaint piece of goods!" said Kate. "How ridiculous it
does sound to hear you speak of me as perfect! Did you really think so,
even for a minute?"
"I did. Oh, now we can meet on common ground. Kate, what are you
laughing at?"
"I must have my laugh out," replied Kate. "Amy, did you hear--did you
hear what she said? She thought me perfect! I, the dreamy, the untidy,
the reckless, the incorrigible! Bless you, Molly! I have not laughed so
heartily for many a day."
"But you don't want to be the incorrigible?" said Molly anxiously.
"Child, you'll kill me, if you look so solemn. Can't you take a joke?
Oh, what a trial it is for an Irish girl to live in England! you
English are so painfully prosaic. Do believe one thing about Kate
O'Connor, my dear little Molly: it is her fashion to talk at random.
She would not be Irish if she were not always propounding the most
impossible theories, and saying the most impossible things. But when
she does the queer things and says the queer words, just make up your
mind that she is in fun, and doesn't mean them to be taken seriously.
Of course, when she says sensible things she means them, and that
reminds me that we are here on a very sensible matter. Now to business."
As Kate spoke, she leaped lightly into the center of her bed, and sat
there, tailor fashion, with her legs tucked under her. She immediately
invited Molly and Amy to follow her example.
"I don't think there is anyone in the next cubicle," she said, "but I
must find out. Hi, Julia, are you there?"
As no answer came from Julia, Kate nodded her head brightly.
"Empty on that side--so far, so good; now, then, for the other. Mary
Jane, love, are you at home?"
Mary Jane being also silent, Kate clapped her hands, and looked
demurely at her companions.
"Now, then," she said, "this delicious little plan wants explaining.
Are you all attention, girls?"
"I am," said Amy. "The fact is, I'm more than attention--I'm devoured
by curiosity."
Molly nodded, but did not speak.
"Well," said Kate, "my plan is this--I want to form a society to eject
selfishness from St. Dorothy's."
Amy sighed deeply.
"Oh, Kate!" she cried; "I did think you had got something sensible in
your head at last. What is the use of taking up wild, abstruse ideas of
that sort?"
"My idea is neither abstruse nor wild," replied Kate. "Do listen,
Amy; you can speak and argue as much as you like when you know what I
mean. You and I, my dear, belong to the afflicted tribe--we live in
cubicles. We are the Dwellers in Cubicles--that is our name. There
are times, Amy, when Mary Jane and Julia make my cubicle anything but
an abode of peace. I've not the least doubt that Harriet and Pussy
give you headache also at odd intervals. It is not easy to write good
epitomes of our lectures when we are sitting between two fires of idle
badinage, chaff, silly stories, and sometimes even--I'll just whisper
the word--quarrelings.
"Now, in this house there are a certain number of rooms which
fortunate students hold undisputed sway over. Some of these students
are obliging, and during the hours of study, share their rooms with
their less fortunate friends; but others are selfish, perhaps from
thoughtlessness, and keep their rooms to themselves. I have been
racking my brains over a careful calculation, and I find that,
supposing St. Dorothy's to be quite full, every student in the place
could be accommodated with a quiet corner for study, if each girl who
has a room to herself would share it with one chum between supper and
prayer time. Of course, such a state of things can't be enforced by
any rules or any order, but it is my belief that moral suasion can do
a good deal. I want to bring morality to bear in the matter. I want to
form a club, and I want to force the girls to become members of it;
those who refuse can be sent to a sort of moral Coventry. The object
of the club will be to wage war against selfishness, and particularly
against that awful form of selfishness which sports its oak, to borrow
an Oxford phrase, against the suffering Dwellers in Cubicles. What do
you say, Amy, to my darling scheme?"
"Oh, my dear, I should love it, of course," replied Amy; "but
unfortunately I belong to the Dwellers in Cubicles. Molly's opinion is
worth having, for she belongs to the opposite side."
"I brought Molly here on purpose," said Kate. "Molly is just in the
position to give a perfectly candid and unbiased opinion. She is a
privileged member of the Single-room Fraternity. She has made no
special friends as yet. Now, Molly, you can tell me frankly what you
think of the scheme. How, for instance, would you like to share your
room with an outsider?"
Molly thought for a moment.
"You speak frankly to me," she said, "and I must reply in the same
spirit. I have a great friend. I am hoping against hope that she may
come to St. Dorothy's. My friend is poor, and I know that she will be
obliged to come here in the least expensive way. She will not have a
room to herself, and I look forward with great pleasure to giving her
any little privilege I can. I hope that she and I may study together in
my room."
"Well, Molly, then you are in favor of the plan?" said Kate, looking at
her a little anxiously.
"Yes; but then I am not unselfish, for it would be delightful for me to
have Cecil in my room."
Kate gave a faint sigh.
"No one knows the difficulties under which the Dwellers in Cubicles
labor," she exclaimed. "I, for instance, have a passion for certain
kinds of work, but I'm afraid, although I manage to please my
lecturers, that I am something of the scatter-brain order of human
beings. When I hear Julia and Mary Jane chatting and quarreling, and
calling across to each other over my head, and sometimes rushing to
meet each other just outside my curtain, to exchange either blows
or kisses, I must own that my poetic ideas or my thoughtful phrases
are apt to melt into a sort of Irish frenzy. The fact is, under the
existing condition of things, I indulge in Irish frenzy every night of
my life, and it is bad for me in every way; it is simply ruining my
character. I get into a furious passion, then I repent, and I get into
bed really quite weak, it is so fearfully exhausting."
"Oh, Kate, I can't help it!" exclaimed Molly. "You must be my chum
until Cecil comes. Perhaps Cecil won't come at all. Oh, I fear as much
as I hope about that. If you will be satisfied to be my chum, _only_
until Cecil comes, you are heartily welcome, Kate."
"You are a duck, and I accept heartily," said Kate, in her frank way;
"but because I have reached an ark of shelter, that is no reason why I
should not extend a vigorous hand to a drowning sister."
"Mary Jane, for instance," exclaimed Amy. "Who is the unfortunate
victim who is to admit that Dweller in Cubicles into her inner
sanctuary?"
"Twenty to one Mary Jane won't wish to go," replied Kate. "Anyhow, the
nice, honest, hard-working, white sheep can't be crushed on account
of the black. I am going to draw up rules for the new club to-morrow.
I shall quote Molly Lavender as a noble example of unselfishness. I
shall have an interview with Miss Leicester, and get her to give her
sanction to my scheme. Oh, I'm certain she will, when she recognizes
the terrible position of the studiously minded Dwellers in Cubicles."