Dorothy makes a Friend
Dorothy set off for school on the morning after the election in a very
sober frame of mind. Aunt Barbara had made her acquainted with most of
the facts mentioned in our last chapter, and she now thoroughly
understood her own position. To a girl of her proud temperament the news
had indeed come as a great humiliation. Instead of bringing a copy of
her pedigree to convince Agnes Lowe that she was one of the Sherbournes
of Devonshire, she would now be obliged to ignore the subject. She did
not expect it would be mentioned openly again, but there might be hints
or allusions, and the mere fact that the girls at school should know was
sufficiently mortifying.
"Agnes was perfectly right," she thought bitterly. "I am a waif, a
nobody, with no relations, and no place of my own in the world. I
suppose I am exactly what she called me--a charity child! I wonder how
she heard the story? But it really does not matter who told her; the
secret has leaked out somehow, and no doubt it will soon be bruited all
over the College. It was time I knew about it myself; but oh dear, how
different I feel since yesterday!"
Thus Dorothy mused, all unconscious that the shuttle of Fate was already
busy casting fresh threads into the web of her life, and that the next
few minutes would bring her a meeting with one whose fortunes were
closely interwoven with her own, and whose future friendship would lead
to strange and most unexpected issues. The train had reached Latchworth,
where a number of passengers were waiting on the platform. The door of
Dorothy's compartment was flung open, and a girl of about her own age
entered, wearing the well-known Avondale ribbon and badge on her straw
hat. Dorothy remembered noticing her among the new members who had been
placed yesterday in the Upper Fourth, though she had had no opportunity
of speaking to her, and had not even learnt her name. A pretty,
fair-haired lady was seeing her off, and turned to Dorothy with an air
of relief.
"You are going to the College?" she asked pleasantly. "Oh, I am so glad!
Then Alison will have somebody to travel with. Will you be good-natured,
and look after her a little at school? She knows nobody yet."
"I'll do my best," murmured Dorothy.
[Illustration: THE NEW GIRL]
"It will be a real kindness. It is rather an ordeal to be a complete
stranger among so many new schoolfellows. Birdie, you must be sure to
come back with this girl, then I shall feel quite happy about you. You
have your books and your umbrella? Well, good-bye, darling, until five
o'clock."
The girl stood waving her hand through the window until the train was
out of the station, then she came and sat down in the seat next to
Dorothy. She had a plump, rosy, smiling face, very blue eyes, and
straight, fair hair. Her expression was decidedly friendly.
Dorothy was hardly in a genial frame of mind, but she felt bound to
enter into conversation.
"You're in the Upper Fourth, aren't you?" she began, by way of breaking
the ice.
"Yes, and so are you. Aren't you Dorothy Greenfield, who was put up for
the Lower School election?"
"And lost it!" exclaimed Dorothy ruefully. "I don't believe I'll ever
canvass again, whatever office is vacant. The thing wasn't managed
fairly. You haven't told me your name yet."
"Alison Clarke, though I'm called Birdie at home."
"Do you live at Latchworth?"
"Yes, at Lindenlea."
"That pretty house on the hill? I always notice it from the train. Then
you must have just come. It has been to let for two years."
"We removed a month ago. We used to live at Leamstead."
"How do you like the Coll.?"
"I can't tell yet. I expect I shall like it better when I know the
girls. I'm glad you go in by this train, because it's much jollier to
have somebody to travel backwards and forwards with. Mother took me
yesterday and brought me home, but of course she can't do that every
day."
Dorothy marched into school that morning feeling rather self-conscious.
She could not be sure whether her story had been circulated or not, but
she did not wish it to be referred to, nor did she want to enter into
any explanations. She imagined that her classmates looked at her in
rather a pitying manner. The bare idea put her on the defensive. Her
pride could not endure pity, even for losing the Wardenship, so she kept
aloof and spoke to nobody. It was easy enough to do this, since Hope
Lawson was the heroine of the hour, and the girls, finding Dorothy
rather cross and unsociable, left her to her own devices. At the
mid-morning interval she took a solitary walk round the playground, and
at one o'clock, instead of joining the rest of the day boarders in the
gymnasium, she lingered behind in the classroom.
"What's wrong with Dorothy Greenfield?" asked Ruth Harmon. "She's so
grumpy, one can't get a word out of her."
"Sulking because she missed the election, I suppose," said Val Barnett.
"That's not like Dorothy. She flares up and gets into tantrums, but she
doesn't sulk."
"And she doesn't generally bear a grudge about things," added Grace
Russell.
"I believe I can guess," said Mavie Morris. "I heard yesterday that she
isn't really Miss Sherbourne's niece at all; she was adopted when she
was a baby, and she doesn't even know who her parents were."
"Well, she can't help that."
"Of course she can't; but you know Dorothy! She's as proud as Lucifer,
and Agnes Lowe called her a waif and a nobody."
"Agnes Lowe wants shaking."
"Well, she didn't mean Dorothy to overhear her. She's very sorry about
it."
"I'm more sorry for Dorothy. So that's the reason she's looking so glum!
Isn't she coming to the meeting?"
"I don't know. She's up in the classroom."
"Someone fetch her."
"I'll go," said Mavie. "It's a shame to let her stay out of everything.
She's as prickly as a hedgehog to-day, and will probably snap my head
off, but I don't mind. She may have a temper, but she's one of the
jolliest girls in the Form, all the same."
"So she is. It's fearfully hard on her if what Agnes Lowe says is really
true. I vote we try to be nice to her, to make up."
"Any girl who refers to it would be a cad."
"Well, look here! Let us try to get her made secretary of our
'Dramatic'."
"Right you are! I'll propose her myself."
Mavie ran quickly upstairs to the classroom.
"Aren't you coming, Dorothy? It's the committee meeting of the
'Dramatic', you know. The others are all waiting; they sent me to fetch
you."
"You'll get on just as well without me," growled Dorothy, with her head
inside her desk.
"Nonsense! Don't be such a goose. I tell you, everybody's waiting."
"Dorothy's jealous of Hope," piped Annie Gray, who, as monitress, was
performing her duty of cleaning the blackboard.
"I'm not! How can you say such a thing? I don't care in the least about
the Wardenship."
"Then come and show up at the meeting, just to let them see you're not
sulking, at any rate," whispered Mavie. "Do be quick! I can't wait any
longer."
Dorothy slammed her desk lid, but complied. Though she would rather have
preferred her own society that day, she did not wish her conduct to be
misconstrued into jealousy or sulks.
"Go on, Mavie, and I'll follow," she replied abruptly, but not
ungraciously.
As she strolled downstairs she noticed Alison Clarke standing rather
aimlessly on the landing, as if she did not quite know where to go or
what to do. Dorothy's conscience gave her a prick. She had quite
forgotten Alison, who, as a new girl, must be feeling decidedly out of
things at the College. She certainly might have employed the
eleven-o'clock interval much more profitably in befriending the
new-comer than in mooning round the playground by herself, brooding over
her own troubles. However, it was not too late to make up for the
omission.
"Hallo!" she exclaimed. "Not a very breezy occupation to stand reading
the Sixth Form timetable, is it?"
"I've nothing better to do," replied Alison, whose rosy face looked a
trifle forlorn. "I don't know a soul here yet, or the ways of the
place."
"You know me! Come along to the gym.; we're going to have a committee
meeting."
Alison brightened visibly.
"What's the meeting about?" she asked, as she stepped briskly with
Dorothy along the passage.
"It's our 'Dramatic'. You see, we who stay for dinner get up little
plays among ourselves. Each Form acts one or two every term. They're
nothing grand--not like the swell things they have at the College
Dramatic Union--and we only do them before the other girls in the gym.,
but they're great fun, all the same."
"I love acting!" declared Alison, with unction.
"Ever done any?"
"Rather! We were keen on it at the school I went to in Leamstead. I was
'Nerissa' once, and 'Miss Matty' in _Scenes from Cranford_, and 'The
March Hare' in _Alice in Wonderland_. I have the mask still, and the fur
costume, and Miss Matty's cap and curls."
"Any other properties?"
"Heaps--in a box at home. There are Miss Matty's mittens and cross-over,
and her silk dress."
"Good! I must tell the girls that. We requisition everything we can.
Where are they having the meeting, I wonder? Oh, there's Mavie beckoning
to us near the horizontal bar!"
The day boarders belonging to the Upper Fourth were collected in a
corner of the gymnasium, waiting impatiently for a few last arrivals.
They made room for Dorothy and Alison, and as Annie Gray followed in a
moment or two, the meeting began almost immediately. Hope Lawson, by
virtue of her Wardenship, took the chair. The first business of the
society was to choose a secretary.
"I beg to propose Dorothy Greenfield," said Grace Russell, putting in
her word before anyone else had an opportunity, and looking at Ruth
Harmon.
"And I beg to second the proposal," said Ruth, rising to the occasion.
Nobody offered the slightest opposition, and Dorothy was elected
unanimously. Very much surprised, but extremely pleased, she accepted
the notebook and stump of pencil that were handed her as signs of
office.
"The next thing is to choose a play," said Hope, "and I think we can't
do better than take one of these _Scenes from Thackeray_. _Miss
Pinkerton's Establishment for Young Ladies_ is lovely."
"Who'd be Miss Pinkerton?"
"It depends on the costume. She ought to have curls, and a cap and
mittens, and a silk dress."
"Can we fish them up from anywhere?"
"Didn't you say you'd had them for Miss Matty?" whispered Dorothy to
Alison; adding aloud: "This new girl, Alison Clarke, has the complete
costume at home, and she's accustomed to acting. I say she'd better take
Miss Pinkerton."
"One can't give the best part to a new girl," objected Annie Gray.
"It's not the best part; it's nothing to Becky Sharp."
"Well, it's the second best, anyhow."
"Oh, never mind that! Let her try. If you find she can't manage it, you
can put in somebody else instead. Give her a chance to show what she can
do, at any rate," pleaded Dorothy.
"We'd destined Miss Pinkerton for you," murmured Grace Russell.
"Then I'll resign in favour of Alison. Let me take Miss Swartz, or one
of the servants--I don't mind which."
It was characteristic of Dorothy that, having reproached herself for
neglecting Alison, she was at once ready to renounce anything and
everything for her benefit. She never did things by halves, and,
considering that she had made a promise in the train, she meant to keep
it; moreover, she had really taken a fancy to the new-comer's beaming
face.
"So be it!" said Hope. "Put it down provisionally--Miss Pinkerton,
Alison Clarke. Now the great business is to choose Becky. Oh, bother!
There's the dinner bell! It always rings at the wrong minute. No, we
can't meet again at two, because I have my music lesson. We must wait
till to-morrow."
Dorothy escorted her protegee to the dining-room, and, when dinner was
over, spent the remaining time before school in showing her the library,
the museum, and the other sights of the College.
"You don't feel so absolutely at sea now?" she enquired.
"No, I'm getting quite at home, thanks to you. It's such a comfort to
have somebody to talk to. Yesterday was detestable."
At three o'clock the Upper Fourth had a literature lesson with Miss
Tempest. It was held in the lecture hall instead of their own classroom,
and just as the girls were filing in at the door, Dorothy made the
horrible discovery that in place of her Longfellow she had brought an
English history book. It was impossible to go back, for Miss Pitman was
standing on the stairs.
"What am I to do?" she gasped. "How could I have been so idiotically
stupid?"
"Can't you look on with somebody?" suggested Alison, who was walking
with her.
"Miss Tempest will notice, and ask the reason. She's fearfully down on
us if we forget anything. I'm in the front row, too, worse luck!"
"Then take my Longfellow and give me your History. Perhaps I shan't be
asked to read. We'll chance it, anyhow," said Alison, changing the two
books before Dorothy had time to object.
"No, no; it's too bad!" began Dorothy; but at that moment Miss Pitman
called out: "What are you two girls waiting for? Move on at once!" and
they were obliged to pass into the lecture hall and go to their seats.
Fortune favoured them that afternoon. Miss Tempest, in the course of the
lesson, twice asked Dorothy to read passages, and completely missed out
Alison, who sat rejoicing tremulously in the back row.
"You don't know from what you've saved me," said the former, as she
returned the book when the class was over. "I should have been utterly
undone without your Longfellow."
"It's like the fable of the mouse and the lion," laughed Alison. "I must
say I felt a little nervous when Miss Tempest looked in my direction. I
thought once she was just going to fix on me. All's well that ends well,
though."
"And I won't be such a duffer again," declared Dorothy.
* * * * *
"Mother, dearest," said Alison Clarke that evening, "I didn't think the
College half so horrid to-day as I did yesterday. I like Dorothy
Greenfield, she's such a jolly girl. She took me all round the place and
showed me everything, and told me what I might do, and what I mustn't.
We went to the Dramatic meeting--at least, it wasn't the real College
Dramatic, but one in our own Form--and I got chosen for Miss Pinkerton.
Dorothy's going to be Miss Swartz, I expect. We've arranged to travel
together always. She's going to wave her handkerchief out of the window
the second the train gets to Latchworth, so that I can go into her
carriage; and we shall wait for each other in the dressing-room after
school."
"I thought she looked a nice girl," said Mrs. Clarke. "She has such a
bright, intelligent face, and she answered so readily and pleasantly
when I spoke to her. I'm glad to hear she took you under her wing, and
showed you the Avondale ways. You'll soon feel at home there now,
Birdie."
"Oh, I shall get along all right! Miss Tempest is rather tempestuous,
and Miss Pitman's only tolerable, but the acting is going to be fun. As
for Dorothy, she's ripping!"