"Margaret has pluck and pride. She will hold her head as high as ever,
no matter what Miss Van Gerder may choose to say, and if there be any
snubbing to be done, she will do it as effectually as Abby Dunbar."
"Very true, but to think that the two are rooming together!"
"Yes, I confess that, in my opinion, Margaret made a mistake there. I
should not have accepted any favors or any invitations from that girl
had I been Margaret, but that is her affair, after all."
"Look! Look quickly, at Abby Dunbar's face," whispered Dolly
excitedly. "The murder is out! I would give a dime to hear what she is
saying. There! Miss Van Gerder realizes that she has said something
she will regret. I suppose Abby was pumping in the very persistent way
she has, and Miss Van Gerder merely answered her questions. Oh, how
could she have been so thoughtless, though? She might have known that
Westover is one of the snobbiest colleges in the world."
"There is no use trying to head her off now," Beth declared
disconsolately. "Still, I mean to have my talk with her anyway. If
it be possible to repair the mischief, she will do it. Miss Dunbar is
glaring at Margaret as if she would like to murder her!"
"Do you suppose that she remembers all the speeches she has made about
Margaret's aristocratic bearing? If she acts as contemptibly as I expect
she will, I shall repeat some of those speeches for her benefit. I've
been treasuring them in my memory."
"I wish this meal would come to an end."
To the two impatient girls, anxious to find out just what Miss Van
Gerder had said, and what she would do in amends, dinner seemed a most
interminable meal. It came to an end at last, however, and Beth, with
her usual directness, walked at once to Miss Van Gerder. "Will you
please come to my room a few moments? I wish very particularly to see
you. I am Elizabeth Newby, and I am very fond of Margaret Hamilton," and
Beth was speaking the truth when she made that assertion, for she had
come to like Margaret as she had not expected that she ever would.
Miss Van Gerder rose instantly, despite Abby Dunbar's exclamation of
annoyance. She had not been able to hear what Beth said, but she was not
at all ready to resign her claim on the new arrival.
"Please don't go, Miss Newby. Miss Van Gerder has just been telling
me the most awful thing about Margaret Hamilton, and to think I begged
her to room with me, and took her home with me this summer, and that we
made her class president, it is too awful--and--"
Miss Van Gerder paused a moment, a rather dangerous light in her eyes.
"I shall be glad if I can persuade you to relinquish your claims on
Margaret, for I want her as a room-mate myself." Then she passed on.
Beth squeezed her arm ecstatically, regardless of the fact that they had
never been even introduced. "You are a darling, but, oh, what possessed
you to tell that girl anything about Margaret?"
"How do you know I did? Oh, I suppose you were watching us. I noticed
your eyes on us all through the meal. How do you happen to know anything
more about Margaret than her room-mate?"
"That is what I want to tell you. Will you come in, please? This is my
room. Let me introduce you to two more of your classmates--my room-mate,
Miss Alden, and Miss Sutherland, our star student in biology. No,
don't go, girls."
"I thought that I was to keep intruders out."
"We will just lock the doors, and pay no attention to any knocks.
Now, Miss Van Gerder, if you please, we will tell you first, what we
know about Margaret and how we learned it; we are the only ones in the
college who do know anything more than she has seen fit to tell. But
don't imagine that she has said that she was anything that she really
wasn't."
"I am glad of that, now tell me your story."
So Beth told it, with various interpolations by Dolly and Mary; she
repeated both Rob Steele's story and the conversation which she and
Dolly had chanced to overhear on the night of the freshman entertainment.
[Illustration: "Let me introduce you to two more of your classmates."]
Miss Van Gerder drew a deep breath. "I shall never forgive myself for
the mischief I have done, but I will do my best to repair it. Let me
tell you what I know of Margaret's family. In the first place, Mr.
Worthington was my great-uncle, and I visited at his Chicago home very
often, so that is the way I came to know Margaret. I never saw very
much of her, for she was in school or busy helping her mother, and,
of course, I was going to teas and receptions, and such things, when I
was there, although I wasn't much more than a child. Mrs. Hamilton was
uncle's housekeeper for years, and after his wife died, he depended on
her entirely for things not often entrusted to a servant. He had no
children. Mrs. Hamilton was a farmer's daughter; she is a good,
sensible, honest woman. She has always been very ambitious for Margaret,
and that is not strange, for Margaret has a fine intellect. She
inherits it from her father. He was a farmer's boy and came from the
same locality as Mrs. Hamilton. They knew each other as children, and
went to the same district school. There Mrs. Hamilton's education
stopped. Mr. Hamilton, however, had made up his mind, as a boy, to go
to West Point. He had no political influence to help him, so he studied
with all his energy and might. He finally went to the city, obtained
employment at a boarding-house to do work out of schooltime, and so
he managed to gain a thorough foundation. He knew that his only chance
of getting to West Point at all, lay in his ability to outdistance
other boys in a competitive examination. So I suppose no boy ever studied
harder than did he."
She stopped a moment to look at the interested faces of her auditors.
"His chance finally came and he was ready for it. A congressional
appointment was offered the boy who stood highest. Mr. Hamilton won it.
He went to West Point, and for nearly three years he did fine work.
While he was there, his father died. His mother had died long before. His
father was ill for months before his death, and Mr. Hamilton sent home
every cent that he could spare. At Easter time in his third year he
was invited, with some other West Pointers, to spend the day with an
acquaintance up the Hudson. They got permission and went. I do not know
who their host was, but he was not a West Pointer. During the afternoon
he took the cadets out in a sailboat. I presume he knew enough of
boats ordinarily, but he was drunk that day; he would not let any of
the other young men take charge, and so, when a little gust of wind
came up, the boat went over. The others escaped with a ducking--even
the drunken fellow who was solely responsible for the accident; but
Mr. Hamilton struck on a rock, on the boat, or on something--no one ever
knew just how it happened; anyway, the boys had hard work saving him,
though he was a fine swimmer. When they pulled him into the boat, he
was insensible. For weeks they thought that he would not recover, and
when he did get well, it was only to learn that he must resign his
cadetship. There had been an accident to his spine which rendered him
totally unfit for a cadet's life."
"How horribly, horribly sad."
"It was sad, and he wished thousands of times that his companions had
let him drown. He would not give up hope until he had spent every cent of
money he possessed in consulting specialists. But they could do nothing
for him. He drifted to Chicago, perfectly unfit for any heavy work. He
tried several things and had to give them up. Then uncle chanced to
advertise for a coachman. Mr. Hamilton answered the advertisement, told
uncle his story, and stayed with him from that time until his death
about six years ago."
"And Mrs. Hamilton?"
"He had very few friends, and all the time that he was at West Point he
had corresponded with Mrs. Hamilton. They had always been good friends;
she must have been very pretty as a girl. When uncle heard that they
were to be married, he fitted up a tiny coachman's house in the rear
of his grounds. He liked them both very much. Afterward, he induced Mrs.
Hamilton to come up to the house and act as his housekeeper. He came to
depend upon her more and more."
"But where do you suppose their money came from?"
"Uncle left Mrs. Hamilton seven thousand dollars. He knew that Margaret
wished to fit herself for a teacher in the higher grades, and he always
meant to help her through college. The money was intended partly for
that purpose, I am sure. Margaret probably refused to come unless her
mother would stop working. After she has graduated here, she can easily
secure a position, and support them both. They will have plenty of
money to last until then, for Mrs. Hamilton must have saved considerable,
too. Uncle paid her generously."
"I think that your story of her father is very sad. With his education
it does seem as if he could have secured some clerical work or some
position in a bank."
"There are eight hundred applicants for every such place; besides,
Mr. Hamilton could not sit in a cramped position, writing; he had to have
a certain amount of outdoor life, though he could not walk far. Really,
his work at my uncle's, suited his health admirably, though it was
hard for him to take a servant's position; there is no doubt of that.
Uncle was kind to him, and made the position as easy as possible, still
there was no denying the fact that he was a coachman. One day a young man
came to visit uncle while I was there. It turned out that he had been at
West Point while Mr. Hamilton was a cadet. Margaret's father felt
horribly disgraced, though there was no reason why he should. He had to
meet Lieutenant Maynard, and it hurt his pride fearfully to act the part
of a servant toward his former classmate. He always felt rebellious and
bitter. He wasn't big enough to realize that 'a man's a man for
a' that.' I suppose it is hard to keep that fact in mind under all
circumstances, and I have no business to be preaching, for I would
probably feel more bitter than did he, if I should ever be similarly
placed. As long as his own ambitions had been defeated, he became
ambitious for Margaret. She was to have a fine education, and to be a
professor in some college. She had a few school friends, but not many
intimates. Her mother felt that she was slighted at school."
"And yet," Beth could not resist saying reproachfully, "you have made
it even worse for her here."
"Yes, but you must believe that I did it all unwittingly. I never
gave a thought to what I was saying. I shall never forgive myself for my
carelessness. It came about naturally enough, though. Miss Dunbar seemed
intensely interested in Margaret, and kept asking questions until I was
rather out of patience, particularly as I was trying to listen to a
story which Professor Newton was telling. She wanted to know where I
had met Margaret and if I knew her very well. I said that I met her at
my uncle's home in Chicago. Was Margaret visiting there? No, she lived
there. Oh, then she was some relative of my uncle's? And I carelessly
said no, that her mother had charge of uncle's house. I should have
thought twice before speaking, if I had not been giving my main attention
to Professor Newton. As soon as I had made the remark, there seemed
to be a volcanic eruption at my side, and I thought that Miss Dunbar
would have hysterics on the spot. She said that she regretted the
fact that Margaret was her room-mate; that she was not accustomed to
rooming with servants, and, of course, she will be awfully disagreeable
to her. I took a double room, but I intended to be alone. Now, however, I
shall ask one of the professors to allow Margaret to come in with me.
The sooner that is done, the better for all concerned. I wonder to
whom I had better go?"
"Go to Professor Newton," said Dolly promptly, "and take Miss
Sutherland with you. She is Professor Newton's niece, and can help you
out, if you need any assistance, but I do not suppose you will."
"Thanks for the suggestion. I shall get the permission first, but
possibly Margaret will not care to room with me after the hornet's nest
I have raised. I wonder, Miss Alden, if you would ask her to come here
while Miss Sutherland and I are interviewing Professor Newton?"
"I shall be very glad to do so. It will be much better to have your
talk here, than in her room, where Abby Dunbar would be liable to
interrupt you at any moment. And, Miss Van Gerder, do not feel too
conscience-stricken over your inadvertence. For my part, I believe
that Margaret will be glad, after the first fuss is over. No one,
then, can accuse her of sailing under false colors. Everything will
be perfectly open and aboveboard."
"It is good of you to say so, but I am sure that your room-mate does not
hold that opinion. At least, I made no mention of her father. I presume
that would be a still harder thing for Miss Dunbar to overlook."
"I think," said Dolly persistently, "that it would have been better
for all concerned, if you had said that Mr. Hamilton was your uncle's
coachman. Then everything would have been told at once, and Margaret
would have no future disclosures to dread."
"I think I was sufficiently stupid as it was;" and then Mary and Miss
Van Gerder went off to see Professor Newton, while Dolly went in search
of Miss Hamilton.
She did not fancy the errand much, for she had a premonition that Miss
Dunbar might also be in the room, and that a scene would be inevitable.
And she was not wrong.