The lights from Greycliff parlors shone out over the campus. Here and
there, in the rooms above, a light would flash out, as the occupant of a
room entered it and turned on her electricity. In the larger reception
room, Hilary was at the piano, while Eloise, Lilian and some of the
other girls were singing. The sounds of the music and happy conservation
floated out and reached the ears of a young woman who had just alighted
from a taxi. She paid the chauffeur, hurried up the steps and entered
the entrance hall,—so far, alone, but only for a few moments, for
exclamations of “It’s Patty, girls!” or “Oh, here’s Patty!” began to be
heard. Soon the newcomer was the center of a welcoming group of girls.
One took her traveling bag, another her pocketbook, and since the hat
with its veil seemed to be in the way, she unpinned the stylish little
affair and handed it to another of the girls.
“Oh, Miss West,—I mean Mrs. Norris, it is so _grand_ to have you back!”
“Yes, indeed. Miss Carver is crosser than ever since the——”
“Hush! Don’t say anything about the war; Patty can’t stand it!”
“Oh, are you really married?”
“Yes, girls, I’m really married, and it is wonderful to have you glad to
see me, like this,—I’m going to need—lots of company!” Patty put her
face for a moment on Pauline’s comfortable shoulder, but lifted it
bravely, smiling as she finished, “—he belongs to me anyhow, and he sent
his warmest greetings to you all.”
“Who in the world is she?” asked one of the “new girls,” “and who is the
‘he’ she is talking about?”
“It is Mrs. Norris, who was Miss West and has been a teacher here for
several years. Dr. Norris came here to teach, too, and they were engaged
all last year. Then he was in camp and couldn’t get away to be married,
I guess. Anyway, they were just married recently, and I suppose she has
seen him off to France.”
Betty, Cathalina and Pauline saw their “Patty” to her room, put away her
things for her, and hovered around till Miss Randolph, hearing of the
arrival, came up herself to greet the bride. Mrs. Norris hastened to say
that her next act was to have been a visit to Miss Randolph, after the
dust of travel was removed, but Miss Randolph replied that she was only
too glad to come to her. The girls immediately withdrew and went out to
join the other interested girls, who wanted to hear all about the
romantic wedding.
“We don’t know a thing,” said Betty. “Of course, we wouldn’t _ask_ her,
and it must be terrible to come back to teaching after just saying
goodbye to your husband. But I imagine that she will tell us things
after a while. Isn’t she a dear?”
On the next morning, the returned teacher met her classes as usual, a
group of friendly girls clustering around her desk before the first
recitation. A little before the second bell, one of the senior girls
came in, her finger on a difficult line in Horace’s Satires, and said,
“I simply can not understand, Dr. Carver, what he means!”
“Dr. Carver!”
“‘Dr. Carver’, indeed, do you want to insult her?”
The senior looked up wonderingly at the girls who thus exclaimed, for
she was not conscious of having used the wrong name. Then she laughed.
“Please forgive me, Miss West, I did not realize what I was saying. My
mind was on those lines I could not get. Why, what is wrong _now_? You
are all laughing!”
Mrs. Norris laughed, too, patted the senior’s arm and said, “Never mind,
you will get used to the change. I don’t mind at all. If you forget, you
need not apologize, but try to get it right the next time. There is the
bell. Take your seats, please.”
No one would have known that Patricia West Norris had anything to worry
over, and if there was any difference it was only that she was more
inspiring. “I am a soldier’s wife,” she said to Betty, as one day they
clambered out over the rocks and sat viewing restless waters, floating
clouds and flying gulls. “If he can go as cheerfully as they all are
going, to face the guns, I certainly will have to live up to him. I
shall want to be by myself a little, of course, to think and to write
letters, but you girls are helping me very much, and I am not going to
mourn till something happens, and I am hoping that nothing will. I
shan’t pretend that it is easy, though.”
Betty stroked her hand and they sat silently a little while. Betty had
her own reasons for sober thoughts at times, but kept a bright face.
“See, Mrs. Patty (which was Betty’s name for her), there is smoke coming
from that little house over the cave, and somebody is out in a boat
fishing. We were always going to investigate that place.”
“It is probably the headquarters for some rough fishermen and you girls
must keep away.”
“Oh, yes, we will. I have certainly lost all curiosity about it, though
it is more or less mysterious. I’ll never get over wondering why Captain
Holley was there and what was in the box and what he threw into the lake
in such a hurry. It makes me think now of what the boys write about hand
grenades and things.”
“Did it explode?”
“I couldn’t tell. We kept as still as mice, Isabel and I, until we
thought the boat was far enough away for them not to see us. Even then
we kept behind the bushes for a while and near the cliff as we went back
to the Hall.”
“What do your hear from Donald Hilton?”
“Donald wrote me that he has a new kind of work, but couldn’t tell me
just what it was for a while. It’s as bad as ‘Somewhere in France!’ We
hardly know what the boys are doing! However, I’ve had long letters,
from both Donald and my brother, telling me lots of things.”
“It is pretty chilly out here,” remarked Mrs. Norris. “Suppose we go
back and walk along the beach a while to stir us up before we go in.”
“I am a little shivery,” acknowledged Betty, “for that wind is getting
cold. But I love the water. I think that this is the most beautiful spot
for a school that there could be. We just have _everything_—boating and
riding, canoeing, the winter sports and all!”
“There come the girls. I suspect that Cathalina is looking for you.”
“I imagine that she is looking for you, too. When I left she was working
on a poster for the Latin Club. It meets tomorrow, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then we are getting up a little stunt for society. All the clubs
represented in the Whittier Society have to do something next time we
meet. They may take it from what they have had in the regular club
meeting, if they want to, but it is to be funny if possible. Isabel and
Virgie are getting up a perfectly killing debate. Isabel’s ‘points’ are
too funny for words. They don’t mean a thing, and she gets them off with
all the oratorical agony she can put on. She goes all around the bush,
tells what she is going to prove and doesn’t prove it. Eloise and I just
lay back on the bed and laughed, when she was going over it in her room
yesterday! They only have five minutes apiece, no rebuttals or anything,
and I’m sure that the judges will decide in favor of Isabel, for Virgie
declares that she can never get up anything as funny. She can think up
points, though, and may capture the judges after all.”
“Oh, here you are, folks!”
Cathalina, with note book and pencil, approached Betty and Mrs. Norris,
while walking down the slope behind her came Isabel, Lilian, Juliet and
Hilary. The girls all wore their bright sweaters and locks were flying
in the wind.
“How will this do for the announcement, Mrs. Norris?” Cathalina handed
Patricia a slip of paper from which she read aloud
“NOTA BENE
SOCIETAS LATINA HODIE CONVENIT.
VENITE, SOCII, VENITE. OMNES ADSINT.
LINGUA LATINA IN LITERATURA, ETC.
(Latin Club, Room 32, Today)”
“Would you say ‘Societas Romana’ instead of ‘Latina’? asked Cathalina.
“I believe I would. That is good, Cathalina. Translate it, Betty.”
“Take notice. The Latin Club meets today. Come,
friends—associates?—companions?—come. Let all be present. The Latin
language in literature and so forth.”
“What would Greycliff be in Latin, Mrs. Norris?”
“Let me see. ‘Mons’, ‘collis’, ‘saxum’, ‘rupes,’—that is it, ‘rupes.’
Then ‘glaucus’ is blue-grey, sometimes silver-grey, or sea-green.”
“Rupes, is feminine,” announced Eloise. “Q. E. D., Rupus Glauca,
Greycliff! Feminae Rupis-Glaucae sumus. Est optima schola omnium
gentium!”
“Mercy, Elo’, don’t go so fast; I can’t keep up with you!” cried Isabel.
“We are the girls, or women, of Greycliff. It is——”
“The best school in the world,” finished Eloise. “Cathalina found some
Latin by Charles Lamb, giving some lines of ‘Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary’
and ‘Little Jack Horner’; so two of the girls are going to dress up as
children and recite them, and some others that Cathalina made up. Come
on, Cathalina, cheer up your Latin teacher by reciting your latest
masterpiece!”
“Mercy, I couldn’t before her.”
“Just ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’!”
“All right.” Cathalina dropped a little curtsey, put one finger to her
mouth and took hold of her dress with the other hand.
“Ma_ri_a agnellum ha_be_bat,
Cujus vellus niveum erat;
Et quacunque M_a_ria
Iter faci_e_bat,
Ag_nel_lus eti_am_ semper _i_bat.”
“There is more, but I have forgotten it. You have to accent the ‘i’ the
first time in ‘Maria,’ and the first ‘a’ the second time, to get the
right effect. The ‘i’ is either long or short.
“O, give us ‘Vetus Mater Hubbard ad armarium venit’,” urged Isabel.
“Can’t. I’ve forgotten it.”
Mrs. Norris was smiling over the fun. “Have you any serious Latin on
your program?”
“O, yes. Most of the program is serious. Dorothy has an article on the
famous Latin Hymns and some girls are going to sing the Adeste Fideles.
Then one of the Academy girls is going to recite the first part of
Cicero’s First Oration against Catiline, and there are some other
things,—historia, musica, scientia, et multae res de quibus dicere
tempus non est!”
“Listen to her!” exclaimed Isabel.
“I’ve just been writing it out, you know,” apologized Cathalina.
“Tomorrow, when we have composition, Mrs. Norris, I probably can’t think
of a thing!”
“Who is that waving out there?” inquired Pauline.
The party all turned to look toward the lake. A boat was bobbing over
the waves, and soon a voice called. Somebody was using a pair of long
glasses and had discovered who they were.
“They’re in sailor costume!” exclaimed Betty. “What do you think of
that! It is Donald Hilton standing up there. I should think he would
fall in!”
A fine-looking lot of sailors they were, rowing away. At a distance
there was a small vessel from which they had come. Presently the boat
came up to the dock, where by this time the whole party were waiting.
The sailors rested on their oars, smiling in friendly fashion, while the
officer in charge gave some order to Donald as he leaped out.
“I’ve just about five minutes, folks,” said Donald, as he shook hands
with one and another in turn. “Have I permission, Mrs. Norris?”
“Just as long as you like, Mr. Hilton—I do not know your rank. I am only
familiar with the infantry insignia.”
“Not very far up yet, Mrs. Norris. What is the Doctor by now?”
“A first lieutenant.”
“We’re doing a little scouting for Uncle Sam, and I got permission to
stop here a few minutes to ‘see my folks’, or some of them.” Donald gave
a whimsical glance at Betty.
“I think I’ll give you a little opportunity to visit with Betty,” said
Mrs. Norris. “Since you can have so short a time, we will shake hands
again and wish you safety and success. Come again.”
Mrs. Norris and the other girls drew away, walking slowly along the
beach in the direction of the school. It was quite marked, the
appropriation of Betty, yet in those times a few precious moments, with
friends perhaps so soon to go across, were of first importance.
“Wasn’t that good of her? Betty, I’ve got your dear little picture safe
in here,” and Donald patted the place where his heart was supposed to
be. “I live on your letters, and haven’t been where I could get them for
a week or two. We’re on a little detail with some secret service men. I
can’t tell you about it now, and please don’t mention the secret
service.”
“I won’t,” said Betty, rather dazed. “Are you really here, or not?”
“I am. This is me, in the language of the poet. We may be in these parts
for a while, cruising around, and we may not. We are going to pretend to
leave anyway, and you will see the old tub steaming away shortly. If I
get a chance, I’m going to come again. Will you be glad to see me?”
“Oh, yes, Donald, you know I will.” Betty did not know just how glad she
would be the next time she was to see him.
They sat down inside the little boat house, on one of the benches, and
managed to say a good deal in the short time allotted them. The men in
the boat, young men, all of them, talked, joked and sang while they
waited. Finally the officer spoke to Donald, who said a last goodbye to
Betty and climbed into the boat. Betty felt a little self-conscious, but
stood out on the dock, poised like a bird, as she waved to Donald. The
sailor lads waved their caps as they pushed off, then bent to the task
of rowing back to the ship. Their voices came back to her as they sang
one of the old sailor chanteys, though these were mostly college boys,
with little experience as yet except in rowing for the championship of
their schools.
Betty walked slowly away, looking back and out at the boat and small
steamer. “Is this I, or isn’t it?” she thought. “Did anybody ever have
such unusual things happen? Here came Donald, out of the lake, so to
speak. Presto, a lot of good-looking boys like him, and a friendly
officer, appear from ‘the deep,’ serenade Donald and me and the girls,
and row off again.”
When Betty caught up with her friends, their comments were not unlike
her own. “Betty’s always having adventures,” said Isabel. “Here am I,
longing for romance and adventure, and nothing happens.”
“You were almost drowned last year,” suggested Betty.
“Yes, but I was unconscious all the time I was being rescued and missed
all the thrills.”
“Mercy, child! You were welcome to all Cathalina and I had!” remarked
Hilary.
“If it had only been good form for Mrs. Norris and us girls to get
acquainted with some of those nice boys in the boat, life would not seem
so barren,” sighed Isabel, with pretended sorrow.
“You very well know that you were the first to leave, and would have
been horrified at the thought of talking to them!” exclaimed Cathalina,
taking Isabel seriously.
“Perhaps, gentle mentor,” said Isabel, putting her arm about Cathalina.
“I would not love a sailor lad,
However bright his e’e;
A deck would have his roving feet,
No hearth-stane warm, with me!”
“Set that to music, Lilian, and sing it to Betty.”
“Is that your own, Isabel?”
“Yes. I thought it up while we were waiting for Betty. Donald is sort of
Scotch, you know, so I put in ‘e’e’ and ‘stane’.”
“It seems to be catching,” said Eloise. “Lilian and Cathalina are always
making verses, and now Isabel.”