STUDIES
Even the pleasant anticipation of the Senior Prom could not drive from
Gale’s mind the necessity for passing her mid-term examinations. Her
whole future, so she had privately decided, rested on her passing and
going on with her friends to Briarhurst. If she couldn’t go with the
others she would not want to go at all. It was unthinkable that she
should be left behind!
Slowly but surely Gale pulled her marks up. The lapse of time when she
had fallen so far behind was forgotten. She regained her old honor roll
standing in every subject but one.
Gale had always had trouble with English. Poetry, literature and written
composition all combined to give her the most trouble of all her
subjects. She could read poetry, memorize it and recite it beautifully,
but she had not the faintest appreciation of it. The passages of the
greater composers with their clarity and beautifully penned expressions
awoke no interest in her whatever. Literature stirred her even less. Her
compositions were fair, but not good enough to counter-balance her
deterrent marks in the other subjects.
Disheartened and it seemed all for naught, Gale studied literature and
poetry. English was a major and she must pass! It meant the necessary
points for her graduation! She learned the words in her books and could
repeat them like an automaton but they meant absolutely nothing to her.
Miss Relso was not so very much older than Gale. She could remember her
own school days when she, too, had struggled with difficult subjects.
She wanted to help Gale but the girl must first learn an appreciation of
Shakespeare and Browning and all the other masters. Once she had the
foundation of a liking for the finer writings it would not be difficult
to master all she had to for her class.
The teacher, in a vain attempt to force interest into Gale, kept her
after school for conferences, paid particular attention to all Gale’s
classwork. But it seemed hopeless. Gale either couldn’t or wouldn’t
learn to like poetry.
“Gale, take this book home and read the story of Elaine and Lancelot
tonight,” the teacher said one afternoon. “When you’ve finished it, no
matter what time it is, come around to my house and we’ll talk about
it.”
Gale accepted the book “Idylls of The King” reluctantly and left the
classroom. She had a wild desire to pitch the volume into the first
handy wastepaper basket. Never had she liked Tennyson. She had not liked
any of the poets, but Tennyson in particular. However, the blue book
remained in her possession as she wandered homeward. It even remained
with her when she met the other Adventure Girls at the Kopper Kettle.
“Hello,” she said as she sank down in her chair. “Where’s Phyllis?”
“In the gym practicing for basketball,” Janet said and pulled her chair
in closer. “Now here is my plan.”
“Plan?” Carol inquired lazily. “I didn’t know you had one. What is it
for?”
“Listen and find out,” Janet said. “While Phyllis is away, let’s go to
her Aunt and ask her to let Phyl go to Briarhurst with us.”
“Not me!” Carol said lustily. “I wouldn’t face that woman for anything.”
“Scaredy cat,” Janet scoffed. “She can’t bite you.”
“She will try hard enough,” Carol declared. “That is the wrong thing to
do, Janet. She won’t agree for spite then. You know she never lets Phyl
do anything when she thinks Phyl has her heart really set on it. We
should use strategy.”
“Such as——” Janet inquired hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Carol admitted.
“Then we’ll do as I suggest—this once,” Janet said. “We’ll go and see
her Aunt. Who will go with me?” She looked around. “Don’t all speak at
once,” she begged when none of the others had said a word.
Gale laughed. “I might be persuaded,” she said at last. “I’ll go if you
will do the talking.”
“Try to keep Janet quiet,” Carol laughed.
“I’ll go too,” Valerie said.
“Excuse me,” Madge put in. “I feel as Carol does. I won’t face Phyl’s
Aunt!”
“Then we three will go and beard the dragon in her den,” Janet said with
dignity. “Come along, girls.”
The three went out and walked briskly up the long hill. However, as they
neared Phyllis’ home their steps began to lag. Some of their bravado was
vanishing now that they were actually nearing the tall, cold,
sharp-faced woman whose strong will so dominated the life of their
friend.
The house itself did not look very encouraging. The curtains were drawn
over all the windows and the panes looked bleak and unfriendly. The
outside was grey and weatherbeaten and the girls knew from their
infrequent visits the inside was just as bleak.
“Well, ring the bell,” Janet said as they stood undecided on the porch.
Gale stretched out a hand and pulled the old fashioned bell handle. They
could hear the peal of the iron bell somewhere within the interior.
“Don’t forget,” Valerie told Janet, “you are to do the talking!”
A second later the door was opened by Phyllis’ Aunt in person. The woman
took in the three girls standing there and remained firmly planted in
the doorway. Obviously she did not intend to invite them in.
“Well?” she said when neither of them spoke.
“I—we—that is——” Janet began lamely and looked appealingly at Gale.
Gone were all intentions of talking.
“We’ve come to talk to you about Phyllis,” Gale said, reluctantly taking
upon herself their mission.
“What about her?” Miss Fields demanded. “If she is in any kind of
trouble I’ll——”
“Oh, no!” Valerie said hastily.
“We’ve come to talk about Phyllis going to Briarhurst,” Gale said
unwisely.
The woman before them stiffened noticeably, if it were possible for her
to get much stiffer.
“Phyllis is going to Stonecliff,” she said.
“That is it,” Gale said. She scarcely realized what she was saying. Her
words tumbled out incoherently in her haste to say what was to be said
and to be away again. She realized now more than ever before why Phyllis
lived in such awe of Miss Fields. The woman was a positive tyrant! There
was not a glimmer of emotion in the stern cut of her features. Gale
doubted if a smile had ever curled the corners of the thin lips.
“We’ve become such good friends with Phyllis that we were hoping she
might go along with the rest of us to Briarhurst. It seems a shame to
break up our group now. Besides Briarhurst is much the finer college.
Their curriculum is much larger, the girls are friendly—everything is
nicer and Phyllis really wants to go with us.” Gale realized how unwise
the last had been as soon as she had said it.
Miss Fields drew herself up to her full height and glared at each girl
in turn. “Phyllis is going to Stonecliff,” she said, and without giving
the girls a chance to carry the argument any farther she turned and
slammed the door in their faces.
“I’m glad she saw our point of view,” Janet commented dryly when the
girls had left the vicinity of Phyllis’ home.
“Do you suppose we should tell Phyllis we were here?” Gale asked after a
moment.
“We better,” Valerie said.
“I hope Miss Fields doesn’t think Phyllis sent us up there,” Janet put
in.
“I hope not!” Gale said.
“Well, what luck?” Carol demanded when the three girls reëntered the
Kopper Kettle.
“Not one inch of ground has been gained,” Janet sighed. “We were forced
to retreat. The enemy was too much for us.”
“You should have used strategy,” Carol insisted.
Janet sighed and motioned to Phyllis who was just entering.
Phyllis listened silently to the story of the girls’ visit to her Aunt.
She had not a word of comment to make. She was not surprised at the
abrupt manner of her Aunt. She might have told them to expect nothing
else.
When the girls broke up to make their ways to their separate homes for
dinner Gale at once retreated to her room and opened the book her
English teacher had given her. “Idylls of The King” had not appealed
particularly to her when they had read it in class last year. But now
she found her interest being drawn into the story of Elaine.
“‘Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat.’”
From the very first words she let herself be drawn into the story, and
found to her amazement, when she had finished, that she enjoyed it.
Perhaps it was because she secretly saw much of Elaine in herself. And
Lancelot? No one but Brent could be Lancelot to her.
Obediently when she had finished she donned her coat and walked over to
Miss Relso’s home. There she had the most pleasant discussion she had
ever had about a book. She found herself liking the young English
teacher more every minute and made a determined effort to like and to
grasp those points upon which she had never focused much attention
before.
From that time on the major part of Gale’s battle was won. Every day
brought a new discovery, new appreciation of plays and poetry. She even
surprised herself when she discovered she was liking the studies in
which she had previously failed. Now she took rapid strides forward. She
coöperated wholeheartedly with her teacher and she did not fail to pass
her examinations with flying colors. Her admiration for her teacher knew
no bounds.