BALKED AMBITION
The surprise of meeting Mary Mears so suddenly almost took Gloria’s
breath away.
“Oh, excuse me, Mary,” she faltered. “Glad you weren’t a lamp post.”
“So am I,” said Mary. “But, Gloria, can I speak to you a moment?”
“Mercy me! More plots!” Gloria was cynical in her despair. “Certainly
you can talk to me. I need sympathy. Have you any to spare?”
But Mary was not in Gloria’s mood. Quietly she led her into her own
room--a rare thing for Mary to do.
“You know, of course,” she began, “Jack is worse?”
“Just the expected reaction, I thought. Isn’t it?”
“I hope that is all. And--is--her stepmother coming?” It seemed
actually difficult for Mary to ask the question.
“I believe so. That is, if I can’t flag her away,” said Gloria, a
little bitterly.
“It is a queer situation,” Mary hesitated. Then, “But I can understand,
perhaps better--than the others,” she faltered.
“Why don’t you meet her, Mary? I’m sure she would listen to reason from
you,” blurted out Gloria.
“_I!_” the word ran the entire scale of surprise. “Why, _I_
wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Corday under any circumstances.”
“Is she an ogre? May I have my precious head bitten off? Why all this
alarm?”
Evidently Mary regretted her quick reply, and now she tried to qualify.
“That was a queer thing for me to say,” she smiled, “but you know, I do
hate--to meet strangers.”
“So do I, when I’m due to finish essays, meet dear Jane and otherwise
merrily pass away the alleged free day.” Gloria tilted her head up
characteristically.
“But I just wanted to know about the trains?” Mary demurred.
“Going away?”
“Only for the day. I had a business message this morning. My time
table may be out of date,” she attempted to explain. “I believe they
change schedules in October or is it November? Well, anyway I imagined
you would know. When does the train come in and when does one go out?”
Gloria burst into a frank little laugh.
“Which way do you want to go?” she asked. “Not thinking of going up to
the back woods junction?”
“Oh, no. I’m going into Blairton. But I supposed you were going down to
meet the incoming train.” A flush of confusion spread over Mary’s fair
skin.
For the moment Gloria showed her own perplexity. What, really, did Mary
wish to know?
“Oh, do you want to go in when I go?” she asked.
“Why, I thought I could see about connections. Do you know what train
Mrs. Corday is coming on?” Mary asked directly. And then Gloria
guessed. Mary wanted to avoid being at the station when Mrs. Corday
came!
“No, I don’t exactly,” replied Gloria truthfully.
“I thought perhaps Miss Alton told you.”
What had seemed like confusion in Mary’s expression was fast gathering
into misery. She was plainly intent upon keeping out of the way of
Jack’s unpopular stepmother.
“There are two trains in,” began Gloria. “And I suppose if she doesn’t
come in on one, Jane will, and ten chances to one I’ll have to meet
both. Mary, I’m sure as shooting, that my poor little essay is going to
be stalled ‘on the high rocks of a crowded day.’”
“Oh, Gloria! You don’t mean you can’t finish it?”
“No, I don’t quite mean it, but I fear it. There have simply been
endless interruptions----”
“And now I’ve detained you, and on such a silly pretext. Of course, I
might have phoned about the trains.”
“I was glad to call,” smiled Gloria sweetly, for she guessed what ever
Mary’s anxiety might have been caused by, it must be something more
serious than finishing a prize essay.
“I most sincerely hope you will have it finished in time,” said Mary,
warmly. “I only wish I could enter more heartily into school work.”
“I can’t truthfully say I love all of it,” admitted Gloria, “but I
have always been interested in trying to write. You see, my dad does
some writing although he is in business.”
“I suppose one must inherit that sort of thing,” replied Mary wistfully.
“Every one has her own talent,” said Gloria hopefully. “If you don’t
like writing you may like----”
“Nursing. I did love to nurse little Jack. But then, you see, my own
dear mother--only lately died.” Mary turned away, biting her lip.
Instantly Gloria’s irritation gave way to sympathy. To lose a mother!
And perhaps one who was a real companion!
“Mine is gone also, Mary,” she said very gently, “but it wasn’t so bad
for me. I was very young and I have always had dad.”
“My father is far away. I barely remember him, although he attends,
through his lawyers, to my every need. He is very generous but also
very remote. I might have gone with him or stayed with mother.
Naturally I stayed with mother.”
“Was she ill long?” Gloria asked kindly.
“One year. But in that time we were together and even her illness
seemed less to me than the continuous separation we had been having
through her--profession.” This last word was hesitantly chosen.
“I hope you feel we are all as friendly as we really want to be,
Mary,” Gloria said, moving away, “and if you feel like having a good
old fashioned chat, drop into our room, won’t you? We are the champion
chatterers of the house. I must run along. Call me if you want to go to
the station when I’m going. I should think that would be in about three
quarters of an hour. Meanwhile I’ll go at the essay once more. If you
see Jack this morning, give her my love. I suppose we will be debarred
for the present.”
“No more company, is the order,” said Mary. “Thank you, Gloria, for
your--confidence. You see, sometimes we cannot be as confidential as
we might like to be. I have always longed for, yet dreaded boarding
school, and now--I wonder!” She brought her lips together in a half
smile and at the moment Gloria could not help noticing how pretty she
was.
Hurrying back to the expectant essay, Gloria kept wondering how Mary
would look in a dainty pink, and amethyst lavender or a soft green
frock.
“With her skin and hair she ought to look angelic,” was her final
decision.
Trixy was gone from the room when Gloria returned. This morning all the
girls were bent upon tests or preparations for them. With something
like real affection Gloria picked up the unfinished pages of her theme.
She scarcely felt the time passing until the half hour struck on the
big hall clock. A few more words, just a better one here or there, then
a hurried scanning, and she reluctantly dropped her pen on the glass
tray.
“Hope I can get back before noon,” she was thinking. “I can easily
dispose of Jane for an hour. She’s such an understanding dear.” This
thought was very satisfying and created a happy smile. “And one good
hour more will surely clean up the effort! Just for dad’s sake I do
so want it to be creditable,” Gloria was thinking. Then the necessary
haste forced itself upon her.
Meeting Jane for the first time since she had been at Altmount meant
fixing up, and having the day free from classes meant the opportunity
of wearing regular, not uniform, garb. Gloria quickly selected her
bright red “sleeveless,” and this over a simple white blouse would be
sure, she knew, to please Jane.
But the neck needed a red tie. She looked for one in both top drawers
but none came to light.
“A pin, oh, I know!” she almost exclaimed aloud, “I’ll wear the little
dark stone necklace. It will go just right with this red garb.”
No need to hunt for that; it always lay safely in Trixy’s little box
and from that receptacle in the corner of the drawer, Gloria now
brought it forth.
“The first time,” she reflected. “Too bad Trixy isn’t in to help me
with the ceremony.” The chain was fastened with a small circular clasp
and this did not yield readily to her finger pressure. After a few
attempts, however, the clasp opened and then she promptly snapped it
shut, and for the briefest moment gazed in her mirror.
“Sort of pretty,” Gloria concluded. “Odd, at any rate.” She
straightened the slender string of dark stones, and allowed them to lay
flat against her throat. “Jane always loved beads around my neck,” she
further reflected. “I hope she will like these as well as she did the
little blue and white ones she so hated to have me give up.”
A glance at the small clock warned her the train would be due in
fifteen minutes, and that meant to call to Sam to take her to the
station, in a very small and very humble type of automobile, that he
always called “his team.” Sam would be sure to “stick around” hoping
for passengers in such a plight as Gloria found herself.
“Hop right in,” he answered, cranking as he talked. “This here little
team comes in right handy on a day like this. I jest took the little
pale girl down.”
“Oh, I forgot I promised to call for Miss Mears,” Gloria told the man
now climbing over the wheel.
“Ain’t no need. She’s went. I took her for the ten five. Land sakes!
What a bustle she was in! ’Tain’t none of my affairs, but if I was
to say anythin’ I’d jest about guess that little girl has somethin’
frettin’ her mind.”
He was rattling along and shouting vigorously to send his high pitched
voice still higher, in order to make sure that his remarks reached the
solitary passenger behind him. Gloria was discreet enough to make no
comment. Sam was never to be encouraged in anything like criticism,
and although she would have loved to know why Mary had dashed for the
earlier train, she said not a word to provoke further comment.
Sam subsided. For a considerable distance he merely groaned or grunted
as the car hit the high spots, then finally, just as the rattle box
bounced over a big “thank-e-mum” he shouted back at his fare:
“Is she sickly?”
“Why, no. I don’t think so,” replied Gloria grudgingly. It would have
been silly for her to ask, who?
“She’s so sort of unnatural like,” squeaked Sam. “Al’lus goin’ out
before folks is up and she’s so white in face and black in--figger,”
this was a long and labored speech. “’Course I ain’t supposed to
critercize, but I know a case when I see one!”
“A case?” The question was defensive.
“Sure thing. She’s a case. Mind the day I fetched the wrong trunk to
your room? Well, here we are. I never noticed the run. This little team
can go, ’specially when a feller’s interested,” Sam chuckled without
apology.
“What about the day you brought the trunks?” Gloria asked, although she
had to follow Sam around the car to do so.
“Oh, yes, I was sayin’,” he took off his old beaver hat and ran his
fingers through his shaggy hair. “You see, there was a lot of trunks a
lot alike and it was some mixup. There’s a feller that’ll want to ride
back. You goin’ to the city?”
“No. But don’t wait for me. I’ll have to take Dave’s car back. I expect
company.” An extra dime dropped into his hand with the regular fare
appeased the man’s jealousy. Dave’s car was the regular big taxi, a
chariot of a fine make gone into the livery business, as a good horse
eventually may go to draying.
The train was not in, neither had the signal dropped an arm to indicate
its coming, so Gloria had time to get her breath and ponder upon Sam’s
gossip.
“There were other trunks like mine, I know Pat’s was identical,” she
considered, “and I suppose the girls pointed out to Sam which one each
thought was her own. Mary might have been one of the number.”
Two young women blustered into the small station. They were Altmount
pupils, Gloria recognized, but she was not acquainted with either.
Taking no notice of her, they “fanfared” the ticket agent then dropped
into a seat near Gloria but which was concealed from her by a high
backed bench.
“Of course, mother’ll howl,” said one, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m
glad to escape.”
“Lots better to leave this way than to be dropped,” joined in the
other, although her voice lacked sincerity.
“I never expected to stick it out past the first term,” continued the
first speaker, “but having been at boarding school----”
“Yes, the home folks were keen on that. But, Miriam, I’m afraid I’ll
just have to go back to prep. You see, I really did lose an awful lot
of time.”
Gloria felt like a thief of their confidence, so she got up noisily and
walked to the window.
The signal dropped, the train whistled and her heart jumped.
If only Mrs. Corday would not come, and if only Jane would be sure to
come!
“What’s an essay alongside of my Jane?” she asked herself, just as the
train rumbled in.