SUCCESSFUL
They chatted a little after the meal was over, and Mr. Warfield asked
Helen to get her papers, and let him see how she had made out with them.
Mrs. Van Dorn gave him a pleasant good-by, and said she must go and take
her daily nap, the best preventive of old age that she knew. Her smile
was over the fact that she held the winning card, and now she had
resolved to play for the girl. It was more entertaining.
Helen brought her papers, very nicely written, and Mr. Warfield admitted
well prepared. There were but few corrections to be made. Then he
smiled, and said in a tone he meant to be comforting, if the matter was
not:
"Perhaps you know, Helen, you cannot use these. Some were last year's
questions, some I guessed at, though I believe I hit two rightly. You
sit down in the room, at the table, and a list is given you, and you
write out your answers from your own interior knowledge, with no helps
from books or friends."
Helen glanced up in dismay, her rosy cheek paled, her lip had a
suspicious quiver.
"But I thought----" and she looked at the discarded papers, over which
she had taken so much pains.
"My dear child, I wanted you to put in practice what you had already
learned. Vacation is a trying time to the memory, unless one resolves
the subject in one's mind. It would have been better for you to come up
at once for the examination, but I didn't see how it was to be managed.
Indeed, last night I confess I did not see how the plan could be carried
through, and I am surprised at your courage and energy."
"Then the papers are of no use," she commented in a tone of
disappointment.
"They have been of a good deal of use in mental training. You will find
it much easier to write on kindred subjects. And I must say you have had
a fortunate summer; so much better than anything I had anticipated for
you. You have shown commendable courage in taking a step many girls
would have shrunk from. I am sure that you will succeed, and some way
we must all make it possible for you to go through the High School. I
feel confident that Providence will smile on our efforts."
She glanced up soberly.
"You would have gone without hesitation when school closed in the
summer?"
"Oh, yes." Then she laughed. She was the wholesome sort of girl, who
could laugh at herself. "That was because I knew so little. And since I
have found how much knowledge of every kind there is in the world, mine
seems so small. I am afraid I don't want to compare myself with the
people who know less, and those who know more seem so far ahead of me,"
she subjoined frankly.
"That need not take away one's courage. At eight and twenty you will
know a good deal more, at eight and forty if you use life rightly, you
will have discarded a good deal of the youthful knowledge, and taken on
maturer thoughts. Schooldays do not end with the close of a school for
vacation. You observe that goes on after a little rest. And the real
scholars go on. All life is a school. I did some hard studying the
fortnight I was in London. I shall do some more this winter. There is
always something ahead of the one who loves knowledge."
He had a very encouraging smile for those who deserved it. He could
frown as well, she knew, and this particular smile was used with
discrimination; it was not the every-day pleasant look.
"So you will go next Tuesday. Louise Searing did not pass. She will keep
you company. I must leave for New York in the train at four, and cannot
be back before Wednesday. But I shall be thinking of you, and for my
sake you must not fail. You see, it helps or hinders my reputation. I
want all my five candidates to pass. There have never more than three
gone from the Center school before."
"I will try my best," she returned. The thought that she would do
something for him inspired her as well.
So they said good-by, and she went out to the kitchen. Two baskets of
tempting Bartlett pears had come, and Mrs. Dayton, with a big kitchen
apron on, and her sleeves rolled up, was beginning to pare them. As soon
as Joanna had done the dishes she would can.
"If you wouldn't mind helping, Helen. Put that big kitchen sacque over
your dress, and button the sleeves around your wrists. Pear juice
stains dreadfully. And then we will talk about the plans. Mr. Warfield
is a delightful gentleman to meet, and he is very much interested in
you."
If Helen was two or three years older, she might repeat her mother's
destiny, the lady thought, and Mr. Warfield was a much more attractive
man than Addison Grant.
They discussed the examination, and Mrs. Dayton endeavored to inspire
her with hope, and she was confident a place could be found for Helen.
"But how to get the folks at home to consent to any such step will be
the puzzle. As soon as we know about the examination I will have a talk
with your uncle. I think I can persuade him to look upon the plan in the
best light for you, and you can stay here all September."
"But there will be Jenny's wedding about the middle of the month, Aunt
said."
"And on the tenth the High School opens."
"Oh, dear! My schooldays seem a great perplexity," and Helen gave a
vague smile. "Some girls' lives run on so smoothly, but mine appears
full of upsets."
"Take courage and go on. I think it will come out right. But I shall
not make a single plan until you have passed the examination."
Then Mrs. Van Dorn's bell rang.
Helen slipped off her sacque, washed her hands, and suddenly bent down
and kissed Mrs. Dayton's forehead. "Oh," she cried with deep tenderness,
"I wish I had a mother! I wish you were my mother."
Mrs. Dayton looked after her, as she flashed through the dining room.
All her motions were light and rapid, yet she never ran over chairs, or
bumped up against doors or corners. It was a grace born in her, and Mrs.
Dayton wondered that it had not all been wrenched out of her by the
crude bustling life at the Mulfords'. And she wondered how it would seem
to have a daughter growing up who would love her and care for her. Helen
was overflowing with gratitude, and one of the best features of it was
that it abounded in deeds rather than words. She always wanted to do
something in return, she often did it without stopping to inquire, daily
little things that evinced thoughtfulness. After all, her three years'
board would hardly be felt, there would be the summer vacation. Only, if
she should be sent away somewhere to teach afterward. But there would
be three pleasant years. She _could_ afford to do it now, she had gone
past the pinches, and was putting by a little every year.
Mrs. Van Dorn, upstairs on her couch in the comfort of a dressing
sacque, was amusing herself with plans as well. She did like to enjoy
outgeneraling people. And this young Mr. Warfield's confidence rather
piqued her. The same thought had entered her mind that this enthusiastic
girl might repeat her mother's story, and she had a fancy that it had
been one of disappointment.
Years ago the daughter of a cousin, the only relative who had ever
befriended her, after a prosperous married life of a dozen years'
duration, was thrown on her own endeavors for a livelihood, with two
little girls. She had a beautiful house in a pretty, refined town, but
there was a considerable mortgage on it. Mrs. Van Dorn had come to her
assistance; she was not all selfishness. With a little aid, Mrs. Aldred
had established herself in a day and boarding school, had added to her
house, and become the pride of the pretty town of Westchester. One act
of Mrs. Aldred had gone to her old cousin's heart. She had paid the
whole sum loaned, interest and principal, and sent the most heartfelt
thanks. She was a prosperous and happy woman, and her girls were growing
up into usefulness, one was teaching, the other would be an artist.
There was no hint or suggestion that she should like to be remembered in
anyone's will, or would be grateful for any gift. The principle of the
incident really touched Mrs. Van Dorn, who paid Mrs. Aldred a visit, and
on her departure left her what she called a little gift in token of her
courage and business ability, a check for a thousand dollars.
"I'm going to take the good of what I have," she announced with a rather
grim smile, "so I shall have the less to leave behind when I die."
That had been five years ago. Now Mrs. Van Dorn had written to know if
the school was still prosperous, and what the terms were, and if she
would take the supervision of an orphan girl who was ambitious, eager,
capable of many things, a girl full of bright promise, amiable in
temper, who was to be trained to get her own living if that came to her,
but accomplished for society, if that should be her lot.
After her talk with Mr. Warfield she had made up her mind. He should not
have his way in this matter. She would try her hand, or her money with
this girl. She was going abroad again for the next year or two, and she
would give Helen two years of education under Mrs. Aldred's supervision.
Then she would decide if she wanted her, and in what capacity.
Fourteen only. Twenty would be young enough to marry. She would have six
years of interest. If the girl came to love her very much----
The poor old heart had a hungering for ardent love, as well as
admiration. And Helen Grant _was_ grateful. To rescue her from a
distasteful life like that at her uncle's, or a life of drudgery working
her way through school would appeal to her, for Mrs. Van Dorn had
discerned that the girl had a great hungry heart for all the accessories
of finer living, though she did not know what the vague restless
stirring within meant.
The carriage paused at the gate. "Help me into my waist," she said to
Helen. "I've dawdled my time away finely. What have you been doing?"
"Peeling pears for canning," she replied merrily. "Mrs. Dayton picked
out a dish of lovely ones for you, and put them in a cool place. They
are luscious. I wonder if you would like to have one now?"
"Oh, no. That will be something to think of when I come back. The wind
has blown up a little cooler, and I am glad. Get my bonnet, and the blue
wrap."
They went downstairs together, and were helped into the coupe. "To the
Postoffice first," she said. "We will wait on ourselves this time."
Mr. Conway always brought the mail up at six, though it reached Hope at
three.
"Your friend, Mr. Warfield, is going to the city? He is very earnest
that you shall take the examination. How do you expect to arrange about
the High School? You will have to live here at North Hope."
Helen colored vividly, and a half-humorous smile parted her lips, and
made dimples in the corners.
"I shall have to earn my own living someway," she answered courageously.
"Aunt Mulford will be much opposed to it, but I think Uncle will see
before long that it will be best. Mrs. Dayton will be a very good friend
to me. It all turns on my passing the examinations successfully."
"And if you should not?"
"Then I must go back to the Center. But I would have another chance by
the first of January. And I have quite resolved that if I do not
accomplish it this year I will try next summer."
There was a charm in her courage and perseverance. Mrs. Van Dorn thought
she had never looked prettier. She could not have taken so cordially to
a plain girl.
They reached the Postoffice. Helen sprang out, and came back with an
eager smile and three letters. Then they turned into an old shady
street, and drove slowly.
One was from her lawyer in the city. The matter she had written of could
be easily adjusted.
The next was in Miss Gage's fine, almost old-fashioned hand. Everything
had gone on well, and she would come on Wednesday, prepared to go
abroad, or anywhere at Mrs. Van Dorn's behest. A very suitable letter,
but there was no suggestion of that wider living outside of her own home
relations. She was an admirable companion, an excellent nurse for small
ailments; she gave good value for what she received, but there was no
refreshment of enthusiasm that had warmed her old heart toward this
girl who seemed to rouse and stir one's thoughts, and give a breath of
sweetness.
The third was from Mrs. Aldred, who would be glad to do anything for her
relative. She was fond of girls, especially those who were bright and
capable of advancement. She would insure her a home and training for the
next two years, and fit her for either position, look after her
clothing, and make her as happy as possible. Hers was in reality a home
school. Her circle was complete with thirty boarders, all of whom were
of unexceptional character, and Mrs. Van Dorn need not be afraid to
trust her _protegee_ at Aldred House, nor fear that any confidence would
be misplaced.
She had meant to lay the matter before Helen this very afternoon, then
she suddenly changed her mind. If the examination went against her, she
would be the more grateful, if in her favor, it would be a card at Mrs.
Aldred's. She would let the others plan, and amuse herself with
upsetting their confident arrangements.
So they talked, instead, about places. Helen never tired of listening.
Her vivid imagination pictured the scenes, while here she smiled a
little, there her straight brows drew together in a little frown of
condemnation, then the heroic appealed to her. It was so pretty to note
the changes. Two years from this time would she be anxious about gowns
and trinkets and frivolity of all kinds? Girls were risky creatures
before their characters were really formed. Yes, it would be wise not to
commit one's self too far to draw back, or substitute other plans.
"When is your old lady going away?" asked Uncle Jason, when he came in
on Saturday. "Mother thinks she can't spare you more than next week.
There's the house to clean, and the weddin' cake to make, and the
children have to have new clothes, and goodness only knows all."
"But I was to have her a week in September," said Mrs. Dayton. "If Jenny
is to be home----"
"Well, she'll be over to her house gettin' ready. We didn't make any
such fuss when we were married. We got spliced and looked after things
afterward. Well, Helen--how is it? I'm afraid you're 'most spoiled for
living among common folks any more."
Helen's face was scarlet, as she glanced into this roughened sun-burned
one.
"You've come to be such a lady," he went on admiringly. "Mebbe it wasn't
for the best. You really ought to be somewhere else and grow up into the
kind of women there is in stories. And your hands are so soft, there
isn't a freckle in your face. There's mighty little Mulford about you!"
"Oh, Uncle Jason!" She flung her soft arms about his neck, immeasurably
touched by the tone of his voice. Her eyes shone with the tenderness of
tears. She laid her fond lips to his rough cheek with a delicate caress.
"Whatever comes," she began, after a pause, "remember that I do
sincerely love you, and that I believe you would be willing to do the
best for me if it was in your power."
"Your head's level there, child," with a tremble in his voice, and he
kissed her fondly, a rare thing with him.
She watched him as he went down the path and climbed into the old wagon.
"I feel mean, and underhand, and deceitful," she cried passionately,
turning to Mrs. Dayton. "I like to live along just on the square, and
how the thing will ever get told, and whether Aunt Jane will let me
stay, and whether it is all right, and why you should want things that
seem out of your reach, and why someone should rise up and forbid you
mounting the ladder that stands just at hand--oh dear!" and Helen burst
into a flood of tears.
"You can tell it all next week. There's been nothing especially
underhand. People don't usually get out on the housetops and proclaim
the things they think of doing. And Mr. Warfield will be back. We shall
all be ranged on your side."
"Poor Uncle Jason! And I haven't finished grating the corn for the
fritters. The cold tongue looks splendid. And the cold chicken. Then we
give people scalding hot fritters."
She was merry and arch again in a moment.
Sunday was soft and rainy, the sort of day one lounged about. Monday
Mrs. Griggs came to wash, and as there were pears to pickle Helen helped
with the ironing. Tuesday she trudged off to school with a beating
heart. Louise Searing was there, one girl and two boys from the North
Hope school who had been conditioned.
"I don't see what you can do if you do get in, Helen Grant," said
Louise. "I'm going to stay with Betty all the week"--this was her
married sister. "Or has Mrs. Dayton promised to keep you? That rich old
lady is going away, isn't she? How did you like living out this summer?
I went up in the mountains with ma. There were some young fellows and we
had lots of fun."
"Hush!" said a teacher entering. Papers and pencils were distributed,
the children placed far enough apart to prevent collusion. The lady took
a seat at the desk.
Helen looked over her questions. Two were from the last year's list, she
saw with joy, and she jotted down the answers carefully. The two
problems she solved. The analysis rather puzzled her. One of the great
seaports of the country, and of Europe. The notable travelers in Africa.
Hannibal's journey across the Alps, his conquests and his stay at
Brutium. Just a week ago they had been reading Hannibal's wonderful
story, and his fifteen years' menace of Rome. How glad she was!
A rather stern looking man came in and took his seat by the lady. As the
slips were finished they were signed and passed up. By noon Helen had
answered five, when they were dismissed until two o'clock. As Helen
passed across the room the lady signaled to her, and handed her three of
the slips. She fairly clutched them in her hand and hurried away lest
Louise should speak to her.
She did not dare open them. When she reached home, Mrs. Dayton was
sugaring blackberries and placing the dishes on the waiter.
"Oh, Helen! You look roasted!"
"I walked so fast. Oh, will you look at these? I have not had the
courage. I have done five, there are four more," she cried breathlessly.
"You poor child! Why, Helen, these are all right. It is splendid."
Helen dropped on a chair and wanted to cry from the sudden relief.
"You foolish girl, to prolong your anxiety. Here, take a fan and get
some of the redness out of your face."
"I can't go in to lunch. Afterward I will go up and tell Mrs. Van Dorn.
Please do not say a word about me," she entreated.
Joanna brought her a glass of iced lemonade, and she thanked her with
overflowing eyes. Then she looked at the slips of paper and smiled.
That was only three out of nine. What if the others should be adverse!
She had a little lunch in the far end of the kitchen by the open window,
and quite recovered her spirits. It seemed as if the ladies would never
get done talking over the table. Their loitering never fretted Mrs.
Dayton, and Joanna had her lunch in the between time.
When the coast was clear she tripped upstairs smiling and steady of
nerve, now.
"And it was so fortunate that we read about Hannibal," she exclaimed,
joyously. "I knew, of course, that he crossed the Alps and menaced Rome,
but if we hadn't read the history I should have been at a great loss to
know just what to say. And one question about the Italian poets. It
seems to me I have been learning all summer from you. I was a real
ignoramus, wasn't I, except in mathematics. I owe you so much!"
She squeezed the soft wrinkled hands in hers, so plump and warm. Her
heartsome cheery voice penetrated deeper into the poor old soul than
anything had done in a long while.
She would owe her a good deal more in time. And she wondered about
taking her abroad now. They could find teachers in plenty.
"Now I must go back to my four other questions. Just pray that I shall
not fail anywhere."
"I have a feeling that you will succeed."
Two of the girls did not get through at four, but begged to stay, and it
seemed hardly worth while to break another day, unless there were some
new applicants. Helen remained. She saw her answers piled up by
themselves. Then Miss Dowling beckoned her.
"You are an excellent student," she exclaimed, "and you have had a very
fine teacher in Mr. Warfield. I think we must get him over here. You
have missed only one question, and you go in with flying colors. I wish
you were to be in my class, but I shall have to wait for you until next
year. You live at the Center? You will have to come up to us."
The girl's eyes sparkled with delight at the commendation, and she
expressed her gratification in a very pretty manner. Miss Dowling was
exceedingly interested in her.
"I like those ambitious girls who are not puffed-up with vanity," she
said to Mr. Steele. "Helen Grant. Do you know any Grants at the
Center?"
"No. And the Center is the dullest of all the Hopes. We must find out
about this bright and shining light. I'll take these papers home and
look them over, and call around about nine."
Miss Dowling nodded.
"It's just too mean for anything!" declared Louise Searing. "I'm not
sure that I shall even squeeze in, I've lost so many marks. I always did
think Mr. Warfield was partial to you, and it isn't fair."
"I've been studying all summer," returned Helen.
"And working at Mrs. Dayton's. For goodness sake what did you do? And I
can tell you it will make a difference with the real High School girls.
Some here at North Hope are very stylish. So it is true you were out
carriage riding half the time?"
The tone was unpleasant, half envious.
"I went out with Mrs. Van Dorn, and read to her, and did little errands.
Her real companion comes to-morrow. And about the middle of September
they are going to Europe."
"Oh!" Louise opened her eyes wide, rather nonplussed. Hope people did
not often go to Europe. And if companions were taken, then it wasn't so
bad to be a companion. Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to begin to snub
Helen Grant just now.