DAWSON'S BILL
Star was pacing up and down in one of the corridors when Christian went
past. Star called out when she saw her:
"Christian, are you using your Greek history to-night?"
"No."
"Will you lend it to me? I can't find my own copy."
"Oh, yes, with pleasure, Star. Shall I fetch it for you?"
"No; just tell me where it is and I'll get it."
"In the bookcase in front of my desk. I put it there this afternoon. It
is on the third shelf."
"Thanks awfully," said Star. "What are you doing with yourself?"
"I am going to Susan; she asked me to have cocoa with her to-night."
It was one of the privileges of Penwerne Manor that the girls who slept
in the White Corridor could entertain their friends now and then to
cocoa. This was really anticipating their Girton or Newnham days; but
for girls who were in their teens Miss Peacock was of the opinion that
such privileges were good instead of harmful.
Christian ran on, therefore, in the direction of Susan's room. Star
turned to Angela Goring, who happened to be walking with her when they
met Christian.
"How queer she looked!" said Star.
"Do you know," replied Angela, "I am quite certain that something
extraordinary is going to happen at the next meeting of the
Penwernians. I can't quite make out what it is. I suspected it for some
time, but when I found Susan slipping in at the back-door with a great
brown-paper parcel in her hand I thought it was time to interfere.
"'Have you been shopping?' I said. 'You know we are not allowed to shop
by ourselves.'
"'Old Betty, the cake-woman, gave me this,' said Susan.
"I dare say she did. It was a very big parcel. Of course it found its
way to the front attic. I often wonder if we do ourselves any good by
belonging to the Penwernians."
"Yes, we do. Don't be so goody-goody, Angela," cried Star. "I wouldn't
do anything dishonorable, or what our darling Miss Peacock didn't
approve of, for the whole world; but there's no harm in having a bit of
a lark once a fortnight or so. Of course, I wouldn't regularly break
the rules; but where Miss Jessie doesn't interfere, I must confess I
feel my own conscience quite light. Now come along; I want to work up
a little piece of Greek history. I don't half know the particulars of
that famous trial of Socrates, and Professor French does so pounce on
you when you happen to make a mistake."
The girls entered the classroom where the fourth class had their
lessons. Star approached Christian's bookshelf, took down Grote's
_History of Greece_, and getting into a comfortable corner, opened it
lazily. Angela approached her own desk, turned on the electric light
and prepared to get her French exercise into as perfect order as she
could.
Presently a cry from Star smote on her ears.
"Why, do look!" she said.
"What?" asked Angela.
"Oh! come here, Angela; this is too funny. See what I found in
Christian's book."
As Star spoke she held up a sheet of paper. On it was written a whole
list of eatables, which Star proceeded to read aloud:
"Twelve plum-tarts, twelve apricot-tarts, twelve cheese-cakes,
two dozen sponge-cakes, four dozen sponge-fingers, one plum-cake,
twenty-four bottles of ginger-beer, two pounds of mixed sweets."
These different items, jotted down one below the other, had their
prices put against them, and the grand total amounted to nine and
sixpence. There was a scrawled "Paid" put below the little account, and
Star, peering down at it with her bright eyes, saw the stamp belonging
to a well-known grocer in the town.
"How strange," she said. "Christian buying a whole lot of things for
herself at Dawson's? Certainly neither Miss Peacock nor Jessie knows
anything of this. What can it mean?"
"Oh, I know very well what it means," said Angela. "You rather crushed
me just now when I spoke, but I am certain there are going to be
high-jinks at the next meeting of the Penwernians. I am also sure there
will be an open act of disobedience. This seems to confirm it."
"But think of Christian being mixed up with it," said Star. "Why,
it's scandalous. Christian, of all people, buying a lot of food and
smuggling it in. We always have been allowed to get a few sweets or
chocolates when we pleased, but it was also an understood matter
that we were never to have regular feasts in the house. And one of
our best-understood rules is this: we are not to buy things from the
tradespeople. Nine-and-sixpence worth. Dear me! Christian must be
running through her money very fast."
"She had two pounds when she first came," said Angela. "I know it, for
she mentioned it; but when I asked her on Saturday last if she would
lend me sixpence until my pocket-money was paid, she got that dreadful
bright crimson all over her face, and then said, 'I am ever so sorry,
but I haven't got it.'"
"What nonsense!" said Star. "It strikes me it is our duty is to look
into this. Of course, Susan is at the bottom of it. But what a weak
girl Christian must be! I am terribly disappointed in her."
"What are you going to do with that account?" asked Angela.
"Put it into my pocket and confront her with it," said Star. "She won't
escape me. I shall know the truth before I am twenty-four hours older."
Angela said nothing further. She went back to her interrupted work; and
Star, folding the little account into small compass, slipped it into
her purse, and then resumed her study of the trial of Socrates.
The girls said nothing more with regard to this discovery; but the next
day, as they were busy over their customary studies, Star from time
to time watched Christian. Whatever Christian's faults might be, she
was certainly a splendid student. She always mastered her lessons in
that intelligent way which so delights all teachers. Her object was
progress--progress at any cost. When such is the case a girl becomes
delightful to teach, and those who have charge of her education give
her every advantage.
Christian was already, in the opinion of some of the girls, made too
much of by her teachers and by the professors.
She worked hard now, and when the time came for the history and
literature lessons she acquitted herself with her customary brilliance.
The literature lesson that day was particularly interesting. It
related to the trial of Socrates. It was the custom of the professor
to get one girl to give a description of the lesson. To-day it was
Christian's turn. Wildly enthusiastic over the greatness of the theme,
she acquitted herself so magnificently that she even won the unwilling
praise of Star herself. Star could never feel enthusiastic about those
who were dead and gone; but Christian, as she spoke, was living back
again in the ancient times. She was with the marvelous old philosopher
in the market-place at Athens: she was one of those Athenian youths who
crowded around him to listen to his teaching. It seemed to her that
she saw the great Socrates as she spoke. There he was, harsh, ugly,
forbidding, as far as exterior went; but, oh! the magical power of his
voice, the thrilling sympathy in his words, the tenderness with which
he addressed those who listened to him. It seemed to Christian Mitford
that morning that she lived in that far-gone time. Her voice broke as
she related the end of the famous trial--the reply of Socrates when he
was asked what change he would wish in the sentence of death--the scorn
of his words, the indignation of his judges. Finally she told of the
moment when he drank the cup of hemlock and sank away into the arms of
death, one of the greatest men that ever lived.
"Thank you," said Professor French. His eyes were shining as he
listened to Christian's words.
Now she returned to her seat. Her eyes shone. Star, as she watched her,
could not but admire; but she also pitied.
Christian was just about to put her Greek history-book in its place on
the shelf when something arrested her attention. She opened the book
quickly, turned page after page, and finally shook it, as though by
that means she might find what she sought. Star drew close to her.
"Have you lost anything?" she asked.
"Yes, but it doesn't matter."
"Professor Munro, young ladies," called the voice of an English
teacher, and another professor entered the room.
A new lesson proceeded, and again Christian scored.
Between eleven and twelve came the welcome hour of recess, and it was
then that Star went up to her classmate.
"Aren't you very proud of yourself?" she asked.
"I?" answered Christian. "Certainly not."
"Then you ought to be. I never cared for poor old Socrates before. I
thought it so tiresome that a man who lived so far back should still be
able to worry the girls of the twentieth century. I didn't think it at
all necessary to learn about him."
Christian made no reply.
"But you have made him live. Oh, how you spoke, and how your eyes
shone!"
"I was interested," said Christian briefly.
Her tone annoyed Star, who began to speak less kindly.
"I wonder," she said, "if what you couldn't find when the Greek history
lesson was over has got, in some strange manner, into my possession.
You looked for something?"
"Yes; I put a mark in the place, and the mark was gone."
"A piece of paper?"
"Yes."
"Had it any writing on it?"
"Some items. Do you think it could be found?"
Star took out her purse, opened it, and held up the paper a few feet
from Christian.
"Twelve plum-tarts," she began, "twelve apricot-tarts, twelve
cheese-cakes----"
"Oh, don't go on! That paper is mine," said Christian. She turned very
red. "Give it to me," she continued; "I want it."
"Of course you want it," replied Star; "but if you have no objection, I
think I will just keep it."
"But why should you, Star? It's mine; please, give it to me."
Christian's voice became full of distress.
"I am ever so sorry, dear, but really I don't think I can, I want it.
I won't show it to anyone, of course, but I want to keep it, just as a
little piece of evidence. Christian, do you know what you are doing?"
"I know quite well."
"Don't you realize that you are disobeying one of the most severe rules
of the school?"
"Yes, I know."
"Did you buy those things at Dawson's?"
"You have no right to question me."
"But did you?"
"Yes."
"Out of your own money?"
"Certainly."
"You knew you were disobeying?"
"I did."
"What does this mean, Christian?"
"I can't tell you. Think of me as you please. If you show what you
found when I kindly lent you my history book, you will be the meanest
girl on earth."
"I am certainly not that; but you had better beware, for if you suppose
that Susan's ways, and Mary Hillary's ways, and Maud Thompson's
ways, and--oh, that I should have to say it!--your ways are going to
be tolerated by the better class of girls in this school, you are
mistaken. It is within your power to give a very serious warning to
Susan; for we girls who like our fun, and yet are not really disobeying
the mistresses, are in the preponderance, whatever you may think."