SERIOUS SCHOOL WORK
But the alarm clock did not wake Gloria. There had been voices
during the night, subdued yet distinctive enough to penetrate her
consciousness, and now, although it was still dark, a slight commotion
in the corridor startled Trixy as well as Gloria, and both were
intently listening.
“What was it?”
“I think Jack must be worse. I heard a man’s voice.”
“Dear me. I hope not. Listen!”
“Yes, that’s the doctor’s voice. Oh Trix! If she should be worse!”
Gloria’s voice trembled with alarm.
“But it was to be expected that she might have another little spell. It
wouldn’t mean anything serious. Don’t you get up. I’ll slip on a robe
and see if I can do anything,” said Trixy.
“As if I could lie here----”
Then the sounds were lost in distant footsteps. The hall light that had
shown through the transom was dimmed, and when Trixy opened the door
everything seemed as usual.
“Wait. I’ll slip downstairs. I think I heard Miss Alton’s voice. She
must have come in on the midnight.”
“Don’t stay. I’m just frightened to death, Trix. I had such a horrible
dream.”
Terror, unreasonable, seized Gloria. Perhaps as she said, it was merely
the reflection of a bad dream, that indefinable gloom that so often
follows a troubled night, especially when body and mind have been over
exerted. But neither cause nor reason modified her dread that something
serious might happen to Jack.
Quickly getting into slippers and gown she waited for Trixy to come
back. It seemed a long wait, but was not actually more than a few
minutes.
“Nothing to be frightened about. Just a little spell, as I thought, and
Miss Alton called the doctor,” was Trixy’s verdict upon returning.
“Oh, I feel choked myself,” confessed Gloria. “I’ve never been so silly
before----” She fairly gasped. “Tell me honestly, Trix. They haven’t
taken her--away!”
“No. Certainly not. Go back to bed or you’ll be ill yourself. Are you
sure you haven’t cold from that ice bath?”
“No-no. I’m all right, but sort of dazed. Isn’t it silly? I wonder why
I should flop like this?”
“I wonder why you shouldn’t? Get back to bed, I’m boss now.” Trixy
seemed to mean what she was saying. “It is only six o’clock and you
have an hour and a half more. Land knows, you need it.” She tucked
Gloria in, robe and all, although a little kick shook the blue slippers
out and from the bed clothes.
“My teeth are--chat-ter-ring!”
“So I hear. Shall I get you a warm drink? Have you a chill?” Trixy
asked, apprehensively.
“Oh, just common nerves. The kind I had when daddy went away--and I
knew--I had to go to--Aunt Harriet’s,” stammered the girl, deep in
pillows. “But do tell me? What did you hear? Please tell me all--you
know?”
“If you aren’t a real baby after all!” half scolded Trixy, sitting on
the edge of the bed beside the shivering girl. “Well, all I know is
that Tillie was sitting with Jack when she seemed to grow faint. Miss
Alton was called and she called the doctor. He said, Miss Alton told
me, that Jack should be moved to a very quiet room and have a nurse
installed. That’s lots nicer than being carried off to some rubber
tired sanitarium.”
“Oh yes, lots.”
“I don’t suppose you can get to sleep again?”
“No, I’m sure I can’t.”
“Then just keep warm, and forget the bad dream. I often have them
myself and they seem so real I’m a wreck the whole next day. My
favorite is a horrible bloody murder with my hands dripping gore.
Though I don’t do the murder I always get mixed up in gore. Last time
I found it was Mabel’s fudge that hadn’t been entirely washed from my
guilty fingers as we turned out lights to fool Wilson.”
Gloria managed a feeble laugh. “I know what gave me the sudden fright,”
she said, now more quietly settled and almost free from the signs of
alarm. “I was just dreaming horribly that Jack called and I couldn’t go
to her. Night-marish, you know, then I actually did hear voices in the
hall and it made the thing so real.”
“And what really caused it was the repressed fear you did experience
when you saw Jack in the bottom of the canoe. While you were awake you
threw it off, but it bobbed up serenely in sleep. Well, you’re all
right now, Jack is all right so far as danger goes, but what threatens
you as something really not all right is the busy day on the essay.
Keep your eyes shut. There,” she held her finger tips over Gloria’s
fluttering lids, “and if you can’t really sleep you can rest. I’ll go
and do likewise.”
But even the eyelids rebelled after a time, and quickly as she felt at
liberty to do so, Gloria jumped up, made for the showers, then spent
fifteen minutes in vigorous exercise.
“More like it,” she exclaimed, when dressing for the free day, in such
apparel as might be worn indoors or out.
During breakfast and after, the whole place was a-buzz with queries
and opinions concerning Jack. Some insisted the Steppy had come again
and carried her off, “sick and all,” others heard the voices and knew
Jack must be “almost dying and maybe had to make her will.” Pat said
she was rich enough to have something to will, and while she, Pat,
was very hard up at the moment, she hoped magnanimously that Jack
would live long enough to spend her own money. The little joke went by
unappreciated.
Mary Mears did not appear in the dining room. Her absence was commented
upon, but Edna Hobbs passed the word that Mary would not leave Jack’s
bedside, and that Miss Alton had given permission for her to remain.
All of which might or might not have been authentic, but served, at any
rate, to keep interest keen and liven things up generally.
Again Gloria was surrounded by admiring ones, especially the younger
girls looked upon her as a real dramatic heroine, and even the box
of candy, for which she now thanked them personally, had not, they
declared, fully expressed the admiration rampant.
Finally, classes were due, students scattered, and those free for the
essay finish dove into secluded corners, hugging hopes and strangling
misgivings.
Gloria had only a few pages to correct, then she would pass it in to
Miss Sanders and it would be ready for typing. She gathered her papers
and her reference books, concentrating upon the importance of elusive
phrases, and had just begun to write when Maggie, the maid, poked her
head in the door and set forth a summons to the office.
“She wants yuh, right off, at the office,” said Maggie, brushing back
a “cow lick,” reminiscently.
“All right, I’ll go at once,” agreed Gloria, putting her petrified wood
paper weight upon the precious essay. Her dad had sent that weight to
her, all the way from the Philippines, and she always felt it was the
nearest thing to his own personal influence that she could exert.
In the office she found Miss Alton, as sweetly impressive as usual, and
she politely inquired after Gloria’s own affairs before divulging the
purport of her summons.
“And I’ve heard all about your bravery,” she smiled. “The girls are
simply inspired by your heroism----”
“Oh, it was scarcely worth all the fuss that has been made----”
“I know. To the brave all else is puny,” said the principal.
“Nevertheless, it is gratifying for me to know I have such a splendid
lieutenant to stand by my officers during my absence.”
Gloria smiled tolerantly. She was thinking of that sentence she
had been just about to indite when Maggie called. She looked up
questioningly.
“What I sent for you for,” responded Miss Alton, “was to ask your
help again. It seems little Jacquinot has implicit faith in your
discretion, and she has, has she not, intrusted to you a message she
wished sent to her mother?”
“Yes. I talked with Mrs. Corday on the wire,” replied Gloria, “but Jack
was sleeping when I returned----”
“I understand. That was entirely right. You had no need, really, to
report to the office, although as a rule, it is best to do so. Under
the circumstances, and in consideration of your excited state of mind
it was entirely excusable----”
“What, Miss Alton?” The tone and words implied some mistake of which
Gloria was unconscious.
“Why, my dear, it would have been better for you to have consulted Miss
Taylor before delivering an important message from a sick girl.”
Gloria’s face flamed--but only for a moment. The next she knew she had
borne out Jack’s wishes and that she did so in ignorance of a school
rule, or an unwritten point of ethics was not, she felt sure, to be
seriously considered. She just wished Miss Alton would let her get back
to her work.
“But now that you have been unwittingly made an emissary,” Miss
Alton’s smile was real, “it seems best to continue in that capacity.
Jacquinot, as you may know, is still extremely nervous, and the
doctor, who called early,” (unnecessary alarm was always to be avoided
at boarding school,) “ordered absolute quiet for some time. Now, I have
just received a message from Mrs. Corday. She insisted upon coming
after all. Miss Taylor, who has great faith in your resourcefulness,
has suggested that you meet the train, and perhaps in some magical way
you could turn her back. If she comes up here we shall certainly have
a difficult time in keeping her away from little Jack. She may even
question our motives.” Miss Alton allowed a very human frown to gather
upon her benign brow. “But what ever happens she cannot see Jack. She
always excites her.”
“I’ll do anything I can, of course, Miss Alton,” said Gloria, each word
sounding to her like a blast at the belated essay.
“You have today free? You are in the contest?”
“Yes, but not finished. I have been delayed.” There was no keeping
anxiety out of her voice.
“Have you much to do? I would not have you held back in your work for
any private matter,” said Miss Alton quickly. “Especially as I know how
interested your father is in your writing, and I also know what good
reports Miss Sanders already has of your work; but if you could just
meet the ten o’clock train, and in your own original way soothe Mrs.
Corday, or in some way assure her of Jack’s satisfactory condition,
then, if she must come, perhaps it would be easier for us all.” A sort
of resigned helplessness was now apparent in Miss Alton’s manner. “But
after all,” she added, “I can’t see why I should ask you to do this.
It is only because we all here seem somehow to antagonize Mrs. Corday,
in spite of our very best intentions. She is--rather erratic, but
perfectly devoted to little Jack,” declared Miss Alton, warmly.
Gloria prepared to leave. Indecision was disturbing Miss Alton. Then
Gloria said:
“I expect a friend on that same train, Miss Alton. You know Jane, my
old nurse, has not been here yet. I had word yesterday that she is
coming today, so when I meet her it will be quite easy for me to pick
up Mrs. Corday. How shall I recognize her?”
“She will be sure to hop into the yellow and black taxi. I say ‘hop’
for Mrs. Corday is extremely alert. She is positively the most active
middle aged woman I have ever known. But her training----” Miss Alton
stopped suddenly. She had no need, evidently, to discourse upon the
obstreperous stepmother’s training. “But,” she added presently, “it
will simplify matters greatly, if you can just meet the train. We shall
have to depend upon conciliatory circumstances to attend to the rest.
Thank you, dear, and I know I can count upon your discretion.”
A sense of impending gloom gripped Gloria. She felt as if her heart had
slipped off a ledge into a pool of thick, murky stuff that it couldn’t
beat its way through. She dreaded taking the temperamental woman in
hand even temporarily; she longed to have Jane all to herself for a few
hours, and she was positively feverish in her anxiety for finishing the
essay.
Now, all these hopes must be subservient to Miss Alton’s wishes. But if
it saved Jack----
“Be sure to tell me if this little commission interferes with any
personal plans,” Miss Alton said at the door, thereby robbing Gloria
of even the slight comfort to be had in a rebellious groan. As if she
could tell her? And as if she could now complain loudly and thoroughly
to Trixy!
She left the office indifferently. So much so that she totally
disregarded traffic rules, and with head bent out of the line of vision
she ran directly into Mary Mears.