THE REASON WHY
When Patty reached home she flung herself into the library like a small
whirlwind.
“It’s just awful, Grandma,” she exclaimed, throwing herself into a big
armchair with absolute despair written on her face. “It’s a horrid,
_horrid_ school, and I wish I didn’t have to go to it. The girls are
snippy and rude and disagreeable! They don’t like me and I don’t like
them; and won’t you help me to coax papa not to make me go there any
more? I’d rather have a governess, or anything!”
“Tell me all about it, dear,” said Grandma, as she quietly took Patty’s
hat and gloves away from the excited child.
“Why, they just snubbed me right and left; and Lorraine says it’s
because I came from the country! Did you ever hear such foolishness?”
“I certainly never did,” said Grandma, smiling in spite of the
seriousness of the occasion. “You are not a New York girl, but you are
not countrified enough to be a subject of ridicule. Weren’t any of the
girls nice to you?”
“Only one, and she wasn’t anything to brag of. Her name is Clementine
Morse, and she’s awfully pretty and sweet-looking, but I didn’t see much
of her. She was pleasant, but she seemed to be so more from a sense of
duty than because she really liked me.”
“I don’t understand it,” said Grandma; “_I_ think you’re a very nice
girl, and I don’t see why anyone should think otherwise.”
“Well, they do,” said Patty; “but never mind, I’m not going to think
anything more about it until papa comes home and then I’m going to ask
him not to make me go there any more.”
As Grandma Elliott was a wise old lady she refrained from further
questions and dropped the subject entirely. She proposed to Patty that
they should go out and do a little shopping, and get some fresh air and
exercise.
This proved a most successful diversion, and soon Patty was her own
merry, bright self again.
But when Mr. Fairfield came home at five o’clock Patty laid the case
before him in emphatic and graphic language.
“They’re different kinds of horrid,” she said in conclusion, “but
they’re _all_ horrid. Only a few of them were really rude, but they all
ignored me, and seemed to wish that I’d get off the earth.”
“How did you treat them?” asked her father, who was really puzzled at
the turn affairs had taken.
“Why, I did the best I knew how. I waited for them to be nice to me, and
then when they didn’t, I tried to be nice to them. But they wouldn’t let
me. Of course, papa, you know I know enough not to be forward, or push
myself in where I’m not wanted; but I just tried to get acquainted in a
nice way, and they wouldn’t have it at all.”
“I can’t see through it, Puss; it’s really most extraordinary. But I
can’t believe they don’t like you; a nice, pretty little girl like you
ought to make friends at first sight. And you always have done so.”
“I know it, papa; I never had anybody act like this before. Please say I
needn’t go any more.”
“Patty, my dear child, I can’t consent to take you away from the school
at once, though I am very, very sorry for you. The whole thing seems so
strange, and I can’t believe but that it will straighten itself out in a
day or two. Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do. If you’ll go to school the
remainder of this week and try your best to do your part toward bringing
about a better understanding, I’ll promise you that if you don’t succeed
by the end of the week you needn’t return next Monday. I know it will be
hard for you, but I think it only just to give the school a fair trial,
and I don’t want you to decide after only one day’s experiences.”
Patty looked disappointed, but she had a brave heart, and, too, she had
implicit confidence in her father’s judgment.
“All right, papa,” she said; “I’ll do it. I hate like fury to go back
there to-morrow. But I will. And I’ll do my part, too; I’ll try my very
best to make the girls like me, but if they don’t act differently by
Friday, I’ll give up the fight.”
“That’s my own brave girl; and truly, Patty, I believe it will be all
right in a day or two. It’s preposterous to think that a lot of
schoolgirls should unanimously agree to dislike you. I’m sure there is
some explanation. Either you exaggerate their natural hesitation toward
a comparative stranger, or else there is a serious misunderstanding
somewhere.”
“Then you don’t think it’s because I came from the country, papa?”
“Nonsense! you weren’t brought up in the back woods. Vernondale is too
near New York to be as countrified as all that. I don’t suppose you
talked bad grammar, or displayed uncouth table-manners.”
“No,” said Patty, smiling; “I tried to behave like a little lady; but
apparently I didn’t succeed.”
“Well, don’t think another thing about it,” said her father; “just go
right along every day this week; and if you don’t want to go—go because
_I_ want you to. Clinch your hands and grit your teeth, if necessary;
but march along each day like my brave little soldier, and somehow I
think we’ll conquer in the long run.”
Patty had inherited a good deal of the Fairfield pluck, and she caught
the spirit of her father’s advice.
“I’ll do it,” she said, determinedly; “I’ll try as hard as I can to win,
but I don’t see much hope.”
“Never mind the hope; just go ahead with your efforts and let the
results take care of themselves. And now let us go down and have an
especially nice dinner, to restore us after this heart-rending scene.”
When they entered the dining-room Patty was surprised to see Adelaide
Hart at one of the tables. Patty bowed cordially as she passed her, but
Adelaide returned it without enthusiasm.
Fortified by her talk with her father, Patty determined not to mind
this, and passed on with a heightened colour. She did not tell her
father about Adelaide, for she had resolved to fight her own battles
through the week.
The dinner was very pleasant. Mr. Fairfield was merry and entertaining,
Grandma was very sweet and comforting, and Patty began to feel as if
life were worth living, after all.
After dinner they joined the Hamiltons in the parlour, and Patty and
Lorraine talked over the events of the day.
“I thought you wouldn’t like the girls,” said Lorraine; “I don’t like
them either, and they don’t like me.”
“I saw Adelaide Hart in the dining-room to-night,” said Patty; “does she
live here?”
“Yes, they’re on the fourth floor. That was her father and mother at the
table with her, and her two sisters. They’re awfully disagreeable girls;
I don’t speak to them.”
Patty was more puzzled than ever. Adelaide Hart looked like a nice girl,
but she certainly had not treated Patty nicely, and Lorraine had
evidently noticed it.
The second day at school was much like the first. The girls made no
advances, and when Patty tried to be sociable, although not actually
rude, they did not encourage her, and made use of the slightest pretext
to get away from her. This left Patty entirely dependent on the society
of Lorraine, and so the two were constantly together.
The third day brought no change for the better, and Patty’s pride began
to assert itself. What the reason could be, she had no idea, but she was
certain now that the girls avoided her for some definite reason; and as
she was innocent of any intentional offence she deeply resented it. She
learned her lessons, went to the various classrooms and recited them,
and was generally commended by the teachers for her studiousness and
good deportment.
By Thursday she had come to the conclusion that there was no hope of
making friends with any of her schoolmates, and with this conviction she
practically gave up the struggle. To hide her defeat she unconsciously
assumed a more haughty air, and herself ignored the very girls who had
neglected her. On Thursday afternoon the whole school went for a walk in
Central Park, as was the custom on stated occasions. Clementine Morse
asked Patty to walk with her. This was a distinct advance, and Patty
would have welcomed it joyfully earlier in the week. But it came too
late, and though Patty really wanted to go with Clementine, her outraged
pride and growing resentment forced her to refuse and she answered
coldly: “Thank you, but I’m going to walk with Lorraine.”
Thursday night Mr. Fairfield asked Patty how the experiment was
succeeding. They had not discussed the matter much through the week, but
Mr. Fairfield had gathered a pretty accurate knowledge of the state of
affairs from Patty’s demeanour.
“There’s no hope,” said Patty; “at least, Clementine Morse did ask me to
walk with her to-day, but after her coolness all the week I wasn’t going
to do it.”
“Revenge is so sweet,” said Mr. Fairfield, looking at the ceiling, but
with a quizzical expression in his eyes; “I hope you thoroughly enjoyed
refusing her invitation.”
“Now, papa, you’re sarcastic,” said Patty; “but I just guess _you_
wouldn’t go walking with people who had snubbed you right and left for
four days!”
“It _is_ hard lines, my girl; and you must use your own judgment. But
don’t be a brave and plucky soldier all through the week, only to be
conquered by a mean little spirit of retaliation at last.”
Patty thought this over pretty thoroughly, as she always thought over
her father’s advice, and she went to school Friday morning resolved to
be magnanimous should any opportunity present itself.
Friday was the day for the gymnasium class. This was a novelty to Patty,
and she greatly enjoyed it, for she was fond of physical exercise.
Lorraine did not attend gymnasium, for, as she had said, she hated
exercise of any kind, and the class was not compulsory.
But Clementine was there, and as the girls stood or sat around, resting
after some calisthenics, she came over to Patty.
“You’re fond of this sort of thing, aren’t you?” she said, with such
frank good-humour that Patty responded at once.
“Yes, I love it; I love any kind of vigorous exercise. Rowing, or
swimming, or out-of-door games I like the best; but this is splendid
fun. I’ve never been in a gymnasium before.”
“Haven’t you? You take to it all so readily I thought you knew all about
it. You’ll like the club-swinging. We’ll have that next week.”
“I won’t be here next week.”
Patty said this involuntarily. She had not meant to announce it so
abruptly, but she spoke before she thought.
“Why not?” exclaimed Clementine, looking dismayed. “Don’t you like the
school?”
“No,” said Patty, feeling suddenly an irresistible desire to probe the
mystery. “No—I don’t. I suppose it’s my own fault, but if so, I don’t
know why. None of the girls like me, they will scarcely speak to me; and
I’m not accustomed to being treated that way.” Patty’s voice trembled a
little, and a suggestion of tears came into her blue eyes, but she stood
her ground bravely, for she was not whining, and she knew it; but she
felt that the time had come for an explanation.
“My goodness gracious!” exclaimed Clementine, “don’t you know why the
girls don’t chum with you?”
“No,” said Patty, her amazement and curiosity rising above all other
sentiments; “and if you know, I wish for pity’s sake you’d tell me.”
“Why,” said Clementine, “it’s only because you’re such an inseparable
chum of Lorraine Hamilton’s. The girls can’t bear her; she is so
disagreeable and doleful and generally unpleasant. We’ve tried our best;
she’s been here two years, you know, but we simply _can’t_ like her. And
so, when you came with her and seemed to be such a desperate friend of
hers, why of course we couldn’t take you up without taking her, too.
And, too, we thought that since you were so terribly intimate with her,
you probably weren’t any nicer than she is. But I soon came to the
conclusion that you weren’t a bit like her and I want awfully to be
friends with you, and so do lots of the other girls. But when I asked
you to walk with me yesterday, you said no, you’d rather walk with
Lorraine, and I felt myself decidedly out of it.”
“I’m sorry about that,” said Patty impulsively; “I was horrid, I know;
but, you see, I had felt so lonely and neglected all the week that
somehow yesterday I got my spunk up, and I just felt like hurting
somebody to make up for the way they had hurt me. I was awfully sorry
about it afterwards.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Clementine; “don’t think of it again. And
don’t leave the school, will you? Try it another week, anyhow; I’m sure
you’ll like it when you get started straight.”
“I think I shall,” said Patty; “anyway, I’ll try it one week more. I’m
not a baby, you know, but it _was_ horrid.”
“Yes, I know; but just you wait until next week and see.”