_PRISCILLA._
EVA was right about Rebecca. When Fanny attacked her on the subject,
which she did in presence of several of the girls, Rebecca drew back
and qualified, and didn't "exactly mean to say that Fanny really said
so in so many words, but she certainly got the idea from what she said;
and then, when Claribel first came, Fanny certainly had said that
Claribel walked with a crutch and had high shoulders."
"And what if I did?" demanded Fanny. "I wasn't making fun of them. The
girls asked me how Claribel looked, and I told them, and that was all."
"Becky's stories are like the prince's mantle in the fairy tale," said
Tilly. "She gets a little bit of foundation, and then she stretches it
and stretches it till it is as large as a bedquilt. Never mind, Fanny;
what is the use of caring?"
But Fanny did care, and in one way the caring did her a great deal of
good. She was bent upon showing that her compositions and exercises
were her own, and she worked harder than ever before in her life, and
read such an amount of sensible books that it was quite alarming.
One day Mr. Hausen found her and Claribel engaged with a volume of
Hallam's "Middle Ages."
"Do you like that book?" he asked.
Fanny looked rather dolefully at Claribel, as if to ask her to reply.
"Well, it is a very big book," said Claribel, "and it isn't so
interesting as some, but Doctor Burton said the other day that Hallam
was one of the best historical authors; and then it tells about the
Crusades."
"And there are some nice stories in it," added Fanny. "I like that
about Charlemagne and his learning to write when he was old."
"Don't you think it is a good book for us?" asked Claribel. "Don't you
think we ought to finish it?"
"Finish it, by all means, if you can, but don't feel obliged to do
so," answered Mr. Hausen. "Hallam is a large undertaking for two such
chickens as you and Fanny."
"It is all Claribel's doing," said Fanny. "She is so very sensible, and
I want to be like her, and Miss Reynolds says I never shall be, so long
as I don't read anything except little story-books. And besides," added
Fanny, "one of the girls said we never should finish it if we began,
and so we are bound to go through with it."
"I am afraid your motives are rather mixed, Fanny," said Mr. Hausen,
laughing. "But never mind. Go on with Hallam, by all means; and if
you finish it, you will certainly show that you have the power of
perseverance."
Contrary to Mr. Hausen's expectations, the girls did finish Hallam,
though I cannot say that the learned author left any very strong
impression on their minds, beyond a general feeling that the Middle
Ages were not nice times and they were glad they did not live in them.
At this time, Claribel and Fanny roomed together; and though
Fanny thought Claribel needlessly particular when she objected to
accumulations of shoes and stockings under the bed, and insisted that
the study-table was not the place for the brushes and combs, and though
Claribel sometimes laughed and sometimes scolded a little, yet the two
friends got on together very comfortably and harmoniously.
One day Claribel received a letter from home at which she uttered an
exclamation of dismay.
"What is the matter?" asked Fanny, looking up from her own budget of
news. "Anything wrong?"
"Well, no—at least I ought not to think so. I suppose I am a sinner not
to be glad, but I can't be, the least in the world."
"Can't be glad of what?"
"That my cousin Priscilla is coming here to school."
"Don't you like her?"
Claribel hesitated a moment before replying to Fanny's question:
"Well, no, to tell you the truth, I don't. We were brought up together
till I came here, but we never agreed very well—in fact, we used to
quarrel every day. I dare say it was as much my fault as hers, though I
do think it wasn't, any more."
"And I suppose you will room together, and I shall have to turn out,"
said Fanny.
"No, indeed, not if I can help it," answered Claribel, with energy. "I
would rather have you, a thousand times. Oh dear! I do hope I sha'n't
have to room with Priscilla."
"Well, we won't borrow trouble," said Fanny; "I dare say Mrs.
Richardson will give her your old room just at first. They almost
always do put the new scholars in there, you know."
It turned out that Fanny was right. There had been some consultation
between Mrs. Richardson and Mrs. Herman, the housekeeper, about what
arrangement was to be made. Mrs. Herman supposed the cousins would
naturally like to be together.
"It is a pity to alter the present arrangement, too," she added. "Fanny
is getting a great deal of good out of it."
"I think we won't make any change—at least for the present," said Mrs.
Richardson. "As you say, Fanny is gaining a great deal, and I think
she does quite as much for her room-mate, though in another way. The
new-comer can just as well have the little room and live alone till we
can observe her a little."
Claribel went down to the boat to meet her cousin, and welcomed her
with all due cordiality. She had schooled herself to do so, and really
succeeded in being glad to see Priscilla. But Priscilla felt and
saw that there was a change in Claribel, and decided at once in her
own mind that Claribel was proud and felt above her, and that she,
Priscilla Westcott, was not going to be put down or patronized, either,
if she wasn't an heiress. She had not been in the house ten minutes
before she succeeded in showing Claribel that she had brought some of
the old home atmosphere with her.
"What a miserable little stuck-up room!" she observed as Claribel
introduced her to "21," which she and Fanny had taken great pains to
make pleasant and attractive looking. "And what a little narrow bed! I
thought you said the rooms were so wonderfully nice?"
"Well, I think they are nice, though they are plain, of course,"
said Claribel, feeling annoyed, but determined not to show it. "The
bed is wide enough for one, I am sure, and here is a nice bureau and
writing-table, you see, and a large closet. I thought this was a dear
little room when I had it."
"Where do you room now?" asked Priscilla.
"Over there where you see that window open and the cat sitting in it,"
answered Claribel, pointing to her own window, where Bab was dozing
in the sun, for he had always remained constant to his allegiance to
Claribel. "Fanny and I wanted to live together, so Mrs. Richardson gave
us that room, though new-comers are usually put in this one. There is
another inside of it where little Madge sleeps, now that Miss Emerson
is away. Generally, we have it for a closet."
"And how do you get on in school?" asked Priscilla, presently. "I
suppose the rules are very strict?"
"Oh no; there are not many rules. We can't go out in the street without
asking, and we have to go to bed and get up at just such times, and to
observe the hour of silence, and keep our clothes mended and our rooms
nice. Those are all the rules I can think of—only, of course, we have
to learn our lessons and do as we are told."
"And do the girls dress much? I have got ten new dresses," said
Priscilla, in a tone of exultation. "I told ma she must let me have
everything new, for I wasn't going to be looked down on or despised by
anybody."
"You needn't have minded about that," said Claribel. "The girls dress
very plainly, and so do the teachers."
"Well, I sha'n't; I have got my new things, and I am going to wear
them. They were all made at Miss Smith's, and I picked out the patterns
in the fashion-book myself."
And Priscilla dived into her trunk and produced one suit after another,
all in the extreme of fashion, as fashion was understood in Smithopolis.
"But haven't you any school-dress?" asked Claribel, rather alarmed.
"You won't wear these dresses in school, will you?"
"Of course I shall. Why not?"
Claribel thought Priscilla would probably find out the why not for
herself in a little while, and she changed the conversation by
inquiring after one and another of her old acquaintances. Priscilla
answered carelessly enough, and again recurred to her dresses, showing
them off and expatiating on their elegance and their cost.
"And what do you study?" she asked, presently.
"History and higher arithmetic and French, besides my drawing."
"I am going to take all the extras," said Priscilla—"music and drawing
and French and German, and everything. Mother said I ought to learn
arithmetic and grammar, but I guess I didn't come to boarding-school
all the way out here to study common school-books."
"But you can't, Priscilla," said Claribel. "Nobody is allowed to have
more than three studies besides music or drawing. And you will have to
study grammar, because all the classes do, except the senior. If you
have music and drawing, you can only have two studies besides."
"I guess I can have what I am able to pay for," said Priscilla;
"besides, I don't mean to take drawing, but oil-painting. I want some
pictures to take home with me."
"But how can you paint without knowing how to draw?" asked Claribel,
bewildered.
"Just as every one else does. Sarah Annie Willcox painted some splendid
pictures at Galesville seminary, and she never touched a pencil nor
paint, till she went there."
[Illustration: _Claribel._ "Well, I never saw such a mean school as
this is," said Priscilla, throwing herself on the bed.]
Claribel concluded that she might as well change the subject:
"Don't you mean to change your dress and brush your hair before tea? I
should think you would want to after coming so far."
"Oh, I only came from The Bridge to-day. However, I suppose I might as
well. What are you going to wear?"
"Just what I have on, only I must go and get an apron. I will call for
you when tea is ready." And Claribel went away, feeling uncomfortable
and vexed, though she hardly knew why, and leaving Priscilla more than
ever convinced that Claribel looked down upon her.
The girls stared and glanced at each other when Priscilla made her
appearance at the tea-table in a furiously gay plaid, flounced and
stuck out and tucked up in every direction, with a gold bracelet on
each wrist and a gold chain round her neck.
Claribel felt uncomfortable and a little ashamed, but she courageously
made the best of the matter, thinking that Priscilla would soon learn
better.
"Well, I never saw such a mean school as this is," said Priscilla one
day after she had been at the school for about a week, and throwing
herself down on Claribel's bed. "If I had known it was such a pokey
kind of place, I am sure I never would have come."
"What's the matter?" asked Fanny Morey. "Please, Priscilla, don't lie
on the bed. It is against rules unless we are sick."
"Who cares?" said Priscilla. "There is nobody here to tell of me."
"I care," said Fanny, decidedly and somewhat angrily. "I don't choose
to break rules, whether I am found out or not. Besides, you had no
business to come in when the card is on the door. I am busy, and I
don't want to be hindered."
"Where's Claribel?"
"Down in the library looking out something in the encyclopædia."
"I suppose you and she are great friends?"
"Yes, we are," answered Fanny, in a tone, which said plainly enough,
"Is that any business of yours?"
"Well, you needn't bite my head off," said Priscilla. "I am sure I am
glad if the poor thing has found anybody to like her. Claribel and I
never could get on together. I suppose I might have given up to her,
and let her patronize me and order me about, just as you do, but it
isn't any use to do that for people, if they are ever so rich. But I
am glad you don't mind, because it is hard for her not to have any
friends."
"Claribel has plenty of friends," said Fanny, flushing a little. "All
the girls like her, and she doesn't order me about or patronize me. I
don't see why you should say so."
At that moment, Claribel entered.
"I can't find anything about it, Fanny," said she; "we shall have to
ask Mr. Hausen. Excuse me, Priscilla, but it is a rule that nobody must
go into a room with a card on the door. You will get us and yourself
into a scrape. Besides, Fanny has her exercises to do."
Priscilla smiled and glanced significantly at Fanny.
"I don't want to seem uncivil, but really you must go, Priscilla,"
added Claribel, seeing that her cousin did not stir. "If Miss Van Ness
should come and find you—"
"Oh, come, now, don't put yourself into a rage, Claribel," said
Priscilla, rising. "I am sure I have done no great harm by just coming
into your room for a little while, so don't scold; please don't get up
a great fuss, now."
"I wish—" Claribel began, and then she bit her lip and was silent.
Priscilla cast another significant glance at Fanny—a piece of vulgarity
and bad manners to which she was much addicted—and then withdrew.
In the course of a week, Priscilla had succeeded in making Claribel
thoroughly uncomfortable. She excelled in saying little provoking
things which could not be noticed, and in making insinuations. She
affected great fear of Claribel's temper, and made a parade of giving
up to her in any little dispute they might happen to have, especially
if any of the teachers were present. She made a great mystery of
advising the girls, especially Fanny, never to contradict her. She
never missed an opportunity of speaking slightingly of the things
she knew Claribel most valued; and whenever Claribel showed any
signs of irritation or annoyance, she would put on a significant and
contemptuous smile.
But nothing that Priscilla said or did annoyed Claribel so much as the
influence she succeeded in gaining over Fanny. The little Texan girl
had been Claribel's first intimate friend, and she loved her with an
intensity of which careless Fanny had very little notion. It was a real
calamity to Claribel when Fanny failed in a lesson or got into disgrace
for disorder or forgetfulness, and it was one of her chief objects in
life to avoid such misfortunes by spurring Fanny, both by precept and
example, to the accomplishment of her school duties. She had so far
succeeded that Fanny herself began to be sensitive on the subject, and
to find pleasure in preparing her lessons and writing her compositions.
She began to care for more sensible and substantial reading than
trifling little stories, and to take a real interest in hunting out
information concerning the subject of her lessons.
But shortly after Priscilla's appearance, all this was changed. Fanny's
lessons began to be carelessly learned, or not learned at all. She
was missing whole hours from the room which the two girls occupied
in common, and her excuse always was that she had been studying with
Priscilla: though the fruits of her study certainly did not appear in
her lessons.
One day after Fanny had made several shocking mistakes in her history
recitation, and had been deficient in her French, Claribel took her to
task:
"You had, plenty of time to study, and you said you had learned it in
Priscilla's room."
"I did," said Fanny.
"I think you had better learn it in your own room next time, then,"
pursued Claribel. "Please do take more pains, Fanny. I can't bear to
have you miss so."
"I don't see why you need care," said Fanny, rather sulkily; "nobody
blames you for it. You are not responsible for my lessons, are you?"
"If you don't see, I don't know how I can tell you," said Claribel.
"Wouldn't you feel badly if I were to miss and get scolded as Mrs.
Reynolds scolded you this morning?"
"Oh, come, Claribel, don't make such a serious matter of it," said
Fanny. "I will learn my lessons to-day, so you needn't be distressed on
my account. I do believe you are jealous of Priscilla."
Now, Claribel knew that she was jealous of Priscilla so far as Fanny
was concerned, but that did not make the accusation any easier to bear.
She retorted sharply, and the scene ended in a downright quarrel. Fanny
rushed away, declaring that she was not Claribel's slave and wouldn't
be tyrannized over by her, if she was rich and a favourite with the
teachers.
Claribel remained behind, very much hurt and very angry, and as usual
in such cases the old temptations came back upon her: "What was the
use of trying to do anything for anybody? What was the use of caring
anything for anybody or expecting anybody to care for her? She had
spoken altogether out of regard to Fanny, and now Fanny declared that
she only wanted to tyrannize. It was very hard to bear!"
But by degrees, as she grew calmer, she began to feel more reasonably
and kindly. Perhaps she had been domineering. Anyhow, she had spoken
unkindly to Fanny; and even if Fanny had been the most to blame, it
was her duty to beg pardon and try to make up friends. Acting on this
conviction, she washed away as well as she could the traces of her
tears, and went out to seek Fanny, whom she found, as she expected, in
Priscilla's room.
"Please to come out here a minute, Fanny," said she. "I want to speak
to you."
"Why can't you just as well speak here?" said Priscilla. "If it is any
such tremendous mystery, I will go away."
"It is no great mystery that I know of," said Claribel, trying to
preserve her calmness—"only, Fanny, I am sorry I was so cross; and if I
hurt your feelings, I beg your pardon."
Before Fanny could answer, Priscilla took the reply on herself:
"Oh, come, now, Claribel, don't make a scene and a fuss! When Fanny has
seen as much of you as I have, she won't mind about your cross fits.
What is the use of your putting on such a tragedy air, as if it was
anything uncommon? We all know what you are, and it is a pity if we
can't make allowances. If only you wouldn't set up for a saint!"
"Fanny, do please come here," said Claribel, imploringly, and trying
hard to keep down the choking in her throat. "Priscilla, I wish you
wouldn't interfere."
"Who is interfering?" said Priscilla. "I suppose I can speak in my own
room."
"Won't you come, Fanny?"
But Fanny would not come, and Claribel retreated to her own room,
feeling very miserable indeed. The girls did not meet again till
bedtime, for Fanny kept close to Priscilla and out of Claribel's way.
She did not come in till it was nearly time to put out the lights.
"You are late," said Claribel, looking up from her Bible and trying to
speak just as usual. "We shall not have time for much reading, I am
afraid."
"I have been reading with Priscilla," answered Fanny, and then there
was a silence.
"Fanny dear, we don't want to go to bed quarrelling," said Claribel,
imploringly.
"I don't want to quarrel, I am sure," said Fanny, "but I don't like
to be ordered about and scolded because I happen to miss; and I don't
think I am accountable to you."
"I didn't mean to scold you, I am sure," Claribel began.
But Fanny interrupted her:
"Oh, you don't mean! What difference does it make? It is all done,
anyway, and what is the use of making such a fuss? There, now! Don't go
and cry!"
Claribel did not cry. She was learning to restrain herself in that as
in other respects.
But as she knelt down to say her prayers, she thought she had never
been more unhappy in her life.
A quarrel with Priscilla was nothing strange. She had known very well
that her cousin's coming would not add to her comfort, but she had
never thought that Priscilla would turn Fanny against her. It was very,
very hard! How could she help being angry? How could she say the Lord's
Prayer while she was so? And then it occurred to her that the One who
had dictated the prayer could give her that grace which should make her
fit to say it.
Fanny had been asleep some time before Claribel lay down, but she waked
up and said, sleepily,—
"What is the matter? Are you sick?"
"No," answered Claribel, kissing her. "There is nothing the matter,
dear. There go to sleep. I am sorry I wakened you."