“Mrs. Weatherbee would like to see you, Miss Allen.” This summons from
Molly the hall girl, aroused Jane from a somewhat disconnected
reverie—if deep thinking on a dark subject might be so termed. Jane was
occupied with Marian and Dolorez, and wondering what they had done to
that bunch of roses, now known to have been contributed by them to
Helen at the Barn Swifts’ playlet. What was written on that tiny card
that worked such unpleasant mischief?
“Very well, Molly. I shall go to the office at once,” replied Jane,
rousing herself and suiting her action to the words.
Mrs. Weatherbee’s scholarly face was inscrutable, and gave no hint of
the purport of her call for Jane. She smiled, but she always did that,
and she was very cordial, but likewise, she was always that.
Jane was naturally apprehensive when she returned the smile and took
the chair offered.
“Miss Allen, I am somewhat disturbed,” began the directress. “Since the
beginning of the term I have endeavored to keep my official hands off
the girls’ affairs, except as they relate directly to the school work,
but I wonder now, if that has not been somewhat of a mistake.”
“I hope that I have not been instrumental in effecting that regime,
Mrs. Weatherbee, if it has been a mistake,” Jane quickly offered.
“Oh, no, not that. I liked your spirit when you took the class
presidency, and pledged your efforts to avoid the usual squabbles
getting into the hands of the faculty; but even so good a plan may be
abused.”
Jane wanted to plunge into the heart of the trouble, whatever it might
be, at once. This being polite and beating around the bush, always
vexed her. But it was the way with the faculty.
“May I know to what you refer, Mrs. Weatherbee?” Jane asked in the most
respectful tone.
“Yes, my dear, certainly. I have brought you here to tell you that
precisely.” She smoothed out the blotter and patted a few
papers—anything, Jane thought, to kill time.
Mrs. Weatherbee asked finally, “What do you know about this plan of
Marian Seaton’s and Dolorez Vincez to canvass the college to get
customers for the so-called beauty shop someone is opening at the very
gate of our grounds?”
“Why, Mrs. Weatherbee! I know absolutely nothing about it. In fact, I
have not even heard it mentioned before!” Jane almost gasped.
“I am glad to hear you say so. I felt you wouldn’t have allowed such an
unheard of thing to get hold without coming to me.”
“Indeed, I would not,” said Jane seriously. She still gasped.
“As you are class president, I naturally asked you first, as we always
feel it better to allow the girls a chance to develop their own plans,
where such a privilege is possible. But to have young ladies actually
go about the rooms, and get names for beauty parlors!”
The contempt in Mrs. Weatherbee’s voice spoke louder than did her
words. She was plainly very much “disturbed” as she had previously
admitted.
“I should think all the old class girls would be well aware that the
matter of canvassing is strictly prohibited,” Jane said. “And for such
a thing as a beauty parlor!” Here she, too, felt the situation beyond
words. She seemed to vision the girls running out of the grounds at
every recreation to get another daub of enamel, or a quick dip of hair
dye. What a situation such an opportunity would precipitate! Also the
fact that Dolorez’ black hair was streaked, and that her high color was
not always reliable, flashed across Jane’s mind. This had been Dolorez’
doings, she felt convinced.
“I agree with you,” Mrs. Weatherbee replied. “No girl in Wellington for
any length of time could have committed such an error unconsciously. I
therefore feel that Miss Vincez must be more to blame than Miss
Seaton.”
“I now recall,” Jane amended, “hearing some talk about making a lot of
money (Dolorez had said a ‘pot of money’) but I had no idea to what
this referred.”
“Yes, they had it all settled. Little slips of paper were typewritten
and the girls pledged—actually pledged, to take the so-called
treatments. And they were to pay a part of the charge in advance to
start the parlor. Did you ever hear of anything so absurd?”
Jane shook her head to deny ever having heard of anything so absurd.
She was thinking too rapidly to trust herself to words.
“Of course, I shall have to bring both girls before the board,” said
Mrs. Weatherbee. “I am convinced that they alone are to blame.”
“Might it be possible,” suggested Jane, “that Dolorez is ignorant of
our rules as regards business?”
“I think not. She has simply wound Miss Seaton around her fingers. Miss
Vincez is a girl of unusual experience. Her standing was investigated,
but I am afraid we allowed personal influence to overcome good
judgment. Miss Vincez was formerly a pupil-teacher at Blindwood.”
“A pupil-teacher!” exclaimed Jane. “Then that accounts for her
basketball skill?”
“Exactly. She taught athletics.”
“And she presumed to play with school girls,” exclaimed Jane
indignantly.
“Yes, but we have our official eye on her,” Mrs. Weatherbee said rather
hurriedly, for Mrs. Weatherbee. “We would not have allowed her to use
her so-called skill against our legitimate players, in fact, when she
was disqualified for fouls, in your tryout, she then and there was
notified she could not again play in any of the games, or take part in
any of the athletic contests. We have no objection to her enjoying all
the exercises, that is her right, but she is disqualified as a
professional, from all amateur sports.”
Jane was too surprised for utterance. That a teacher should stand up in
their games and try “to best” a set of whole-hearted young school
girls!
“I would not allow this to become public, as such occurrences would
have an unwholesome effect on the morale of the school,” Mrs.
Weatherbee went on. “But I knew it would filter through. Such
sensations always do get abroad—like steam or smoke; we can’t control
the influence.”
“But Blindwood!” Jane now repeated. “Wasn’t that where—Helen went to
school?”
“Yes,” replied the directress, “Helen was a pupil there also.”
“Then that accounts——” Jane hesitated. “Why, I wonder, did Helen not
recognize Dolorez?”
“They meet very seldom, and Miss Vincez has changed. She may have been
a charter customer at her wonderful beauty parlor for as I am informed
from Blindwood, Miss Vincez there was a striking blonde.”
“Oh, that is it! She has changed her hair!” Jane could not refrain from
exclaiming. “And she knows Helen, and knows her real name of course.
Oh, Mrs. Weatherbee, I am sure Dolorez Vincez was responsible for that
shock Helen received with the bouquet. Whatever was written on the
little card simply shocked Helen out of her senses.”
“Precisely,” replied Mrs. Weatherbee. “But I have not questioned Helen.
I believe the child is on the verge of a nervous collapse, and however
kindly we would go about it, a word might be more than she could stand.
She is so high strung and temperamental. I have even had her excused
from many lessons, believing that the best plan. Helen will do all she
can to meet her obligations, and there is no reason why she should be
driven.”
“Oh, Mrs. Weatherbee!” and impulsively Jane threw her arms around the
woman who stood as mother to the Wellington girls. “How good, and kind
you are!”
“Thank you, my dear. Such gratitude more than repays me. I sometimes
fear my necessary intervention may be taken as interference. But when I
have done my duty, and all turns out well then—I am glad.”
“What can I do to assist you in this matter, Mrs. Weatherbee?” asked
Jane earnestly.
“My dear, all I want you to do is to use your influence privately with
the young ladies, to show them the absurdity of subscribing to anything
like that so-called course of treatments. You see, the danger is, some
of them may actually have given their money, and we cannot force Miss
Vincez’ friend—whoever she may be—to refund it. However, under any
conditions, I shall not allow a single Wellington girl to visit this
place—this beauty parlor.”
“I will gladly do all I can, Mrs. Weatherbee, to counteract the
canvass. I wish I had heard of it sooner. But there has been so much
going on lately. And being anxious about our big basketball game, I
have been keeping the girls at practice daily.”
“Oh, yes, my dear, and that is quite right. I do not want to spoil your
pretty head with compliments, but you must know that we all appreciate
what you are doing. Your leadership for the juniors has given us
perfectly splendid results this far.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weatherbee. But really I am only doing what anyone
would do, and I feel rather foolish to be complimented. It is just a
case of being in line. Someone has to lead.”
“That is a fine spirit to view it in, Jane,” Mrs. Weatherbee never used
first names—that is, seldom indeed. The occasion must have been one of
singular confidence. “But we recall that you did not fall into this
place without well-deserved merit,” she commented. “This is a big
college and we have many fine girls, so that those chosen to lead must
have been qualified. However, I want to say a word about our little
Helen. She surprised me greatly with her wonderful skill at the violin.
You know when she came to us, she had been sort of lost—that is, her
friends had abandoned her.”
“Yes, Mrs. Weatherbee,” said Jane simply, choking back her interest.
“Well, I have thought since we might have traced them by their letters,
which must have been in the possession of the Blindwood faculty. But I
was restrained from doing this by the attitude of Helen herself. She
fairly begged me not to seek her friends. Strange, I thought.”
“I have found her the same with every line I attempted to uncover in
her interest,” said Jane. “But why she is so fearful of being
discovered I cannot guess. Still, she is so sweet, and gentle, and I
felt we might surely regard her wishes. After all, we have no dealings
with her friends. She has proven her worth and she is our—guest. So I
have almost decided, Mrs. Weatherbee, as far as I am concerned, Helen
may remain our mysterious orphan. You must have heard the absurd story
about my having adopted her.”
“Yes, that was the first inkling I had of these foolish tales. But it
was so very foolish it died by its own hand. However, as you say, my
dear, we have only to deal with Helen, and she is beyond reproach, so
for the present at least, I quite agree with you. We have no reason to
bother about her antecedents. Now run along. And be wise. Don’t take
too many into your confidence. You may trust Judith. I am sure. I am
beginning to think of you as do the girls. I hear them call you the Two
Jays.”
This playful thrust enlivened Jane and struck a responsive chord in her
rather drooping spirits. It would be good to confide in Judy, at least
she, Jane thought, was human enough to enjoy the beauty parlor joke
with her chum.
And wouldn’t Judy just howl!