GREYCLIFF
Greycliff Heights was the name of the small town where Mr. Van Buskirk
and Cathalina found themselves one bright day in the middle of
September. At the station were a few taxicabs decorated with Greycliff
banners. A short spin over a pretty, winding road brought them out to
the school called Greycliff. There they entered a broad gateway and
glided around a curved drive to Greycliff Hall, the girls’ dormitory.
A rolling, grassy campus; flowers and a fountain; a scattered group of
handsome grey stone buildings, vine-covered; a green wood, whose trees
and bushes gradually thinned toward the sandy beach which lay between
the campus proper and where the lake danced and shimmered at a
distance,—these were what the eye could gather for a first impression.
“Look, Papa!” said Cathalina, “see those lovely horses. Do you suppose
they belong here?”
“Very likely.”
At some distance beyond the campus, a large pasture was fenced in and
there grazed about a dozen pretty ponies and as many horses.
“O, I do believe I shall like the riding lessons after I get over being
afraid!”
“As you grow stronger and more used to everything, Cathalina, you will
not feel so timid.”
By this time they were ready to ascend the steps. A broad veranda with
Ionic pillars extended the great width of the great building, and they
had no sooner reached the top than from one of the comfortable porch
seats there rose a slight woman, somewhat under middle height, who came
to meet them. Her face was serious, with wise, observant grey eyes; but
when she drew near and held out a cordial hand, a warm smile lit up the
whole face and Cathalina’s feeling of a stranger in a strange land began
to slip away. Introducing herself as the principal, Miss Randolph
welcomed the newcomers sincerely and took them into her own reception
room.
“If I had not been on the porch, the maid would have brought you in with
more ceremony,” she said, pleasantly. “I was really expecting you on
that train, from what Mrs. Knickerbocker wrote. How is she? She has been
a delightful friend to me.”
Cathalina had expected to see an older lady of Aunt Katherine’s age; but
this charming little lady could scarcely be ten years older than
Cathalina’s own mother.
A conversation followed, in which Mr. Van Buskirk supplemented the
correspondence of the summer with further explanations of his plans for
Cathalina. “I think you will find Cathalina obedient and helpful,” said
he, “and we shall appreciate any hints that you can give her. Since her
health is already so much improved by the summer’s outing, I think that
she can soon be as busy as the rest.”
“It will be a pleasure to have her here, I know. I am sorry that there
are so few girls here today. Tomorrow and the next day will bring them.”
“There were no girls at all on our train,” said Cathalina, who had been
disappointed. Little as she had wanted to come, she was not without a
natural curiosity as to her future companions.
“I should be glad if the matter of a roommate could be arranged before
you leave, Mr. Van Buskirk, but it may not be possible. The plans of the
old girls are all made, so it must be a ‘new girl.’ I have in mind a few
girls from homes of especial refinement, and I will use my best judgment
for Cathalina. Now you will want to see her room.”
In response to Miss Randolph’s ring there appeared a plump, rosy-cheeked
girl whom Cathalina supposed to be a servant, though she was not in
maid’s attire.
“This is Alma Huntley, one of our girls, who helps me a great deal.
Alma, please take Mr. Van Buskirk and his daughter to number fifty-two,
second floor.”
Through the big hall to the elevator, down another hall on the second
floor, and they were ushered into a tiny suite of two rooms at the front
of the building, its sitting room at the corner on the side toward the
lake. “The girls call this Lakeview Corridor,” said Alma.
Cathalina stepped to the window and looked off, through and across the
treetops to the restless waters beyond. It did not seem much like home,
and Cathalina’s eyes filled with tears.
“A fine view for you, my child,” Mr. Van Buskirk remarked cheerfully,
though it did seem too much like leaving his little girl behind. “Your
mother will pay you a flying visit soon; did she tell you?” Mr. Van
Buskirk had observed the tears.
“No; will she really?”
“Do you suppose she could stand it long not to see how you are placed?
You must take some snap shots for her as soon as possible.”
Alma looked interested, but Cathalina did not. Poor Mr. Van Buskirk had
tried with varying success all day to suggest everything that might keep
up Cathalina’s courage or interest her. He smiled a little now,
remembering his efforts, successful at last, not to allow Sylvia to come
with her daughter this time.
“Let her have her chance, Sylvia,” he had said. “It will be hard enough
for her anyway, and if you go with her I’m afraid that she will be
coming back on the same train!”
But Mr. Van Buskirk hardly did Cathalina justice. She was neither as
weak nor as babyish as they feared, in spite of all that they had done
to make her so. Endowed by nature with considerable good sense, she had
thought the matter over and determined to show the dear home people that
she really could amount to something, whether she wanted to do this or
not.
To many girls the prospect of a year at Greycliff was a dream of
delight. Its very location was attractive. The school was well equipped,
well endowed and had at its head a woman of noble character, high
culture and earnest purpose. Cathalina had little idea of what pleasant
days were before her, days of companionship with other interesting
girls; days of wholesome labor brightened by hours of fun and
recreation; days of satisfaction in work well done, and days that
brought new thoughts to Cathalina of possibilities in her own life.
For some reason Cathalina’s trunks had not arrived, so there was no
unpacking except of suitcase and traveling bag. She was used to
traveling and was at no loss in getting comfortably settled. Mr. Van
Buskirk was made comfortable in the suite next to Cathalina’s. He had
expected to go back to the hotel at Greycliff Heights, but Miss Randolph
had insisted upon his remaining as a guest at Greycliff.
“With all these vacant rooms,” said she, “why not stay with Cathalina?”
And Cathalina had added her persuasions. There were regular guest rooms,
but they were too far from his little girl.
After breakfast the next morning, Mr. Van Buskirk told Cathalina that he
preferred to take the lake walk back to the town. His bag was sent by
the old-fashioned Greycliff express wagon, while he strolled down the
shady walk with Cathalina. He talked earnestly and cheerfully of
different matters, and at the arched gateway, where the vines climbed
riotously and a little grey squirrel with a nut scolded them both, he
kissed Cathalina goodbye and walked away briskly, turning once to give
her a military salute and a parting smile. Cathalina blew a kiss and
blithely waved her handkerchief, soon, alas, to be put to another use.
“His dear old straight shoulders!” she said, for there was only the
squirrel to hear; and in spite of her determination the tears would
come. With a sob she collapsed into the rustic seat and was ready for a
good cry. But suddenly she gathered herself together, mopped away the
tears and stood up, as straight as her father. “No, I will not! It
always makes me sick to cry! I’ll see if I can not show a little nerve
for once. That is what Father’s military salute meant. He was saying to
me, ‘Remember Martin Van Buskirk and the rest of your Revolutionary
ancestors, little daughter of the Revolution!’ I’m a goose! I’m past
fourteen years old and I’ve been away from home before, and I guess if I
wanted to go home awfully I could—but I’m going to _stay_!”
So the descendant of Martin Van Buskirk and Captain Hart walked as
firmly and briskly as her father, up the walk, the front steps and the
stairs to her own rooms, where she looked around to see what was to be
done. “As Phil says, ‘Here goes!’” she remarked to herself, throwing
back the top of a trunk; for before her father left, Cathalina’s trunks
had been sent up and stood unlocked and unstrapped in the hall by the
door.
“I wish my roommate were here,” she thought; “still, perhaps it will be
less confusing if I get my things put away first. And perhaps she’ll be
homesick, too, poor thing, and I can have a decent looking place for
her. Dear me! This does not look much like home! Such teeny rooms, and
only one dresser.” But thinking of some one else as homesick as herself
helped brace poor little Cathalina. She shook out her pretty, simple
frocks and hung them on one side of the large closet which the girls
were to share.
“O, dear, I wish I had Etta,” she sighed; for by the time the dresser
and wraps were hung up and the hats on the shelf, she was tired with the
trips from trunks to closet. But she kept on, nevertheless, and spread
on the table a pretty embroidered runner that Ann Maria had made for
her, and carried there by armfuls books and boxes of finery.
“Can’t put anything in the bureau drawers, I suppose, until we divide
them. I’m going to buy a big chiffonier, for I don’t see how we are ever
going to get along. I wish that steamer trunk could have been brought
in. I wonder why they won’t allow trunks in the rooms. It wouldn’t have
done any good if I had brought the wardrobe trunk I wanted.”
At last the trunks were emptied and all that was to go in the bureau
drawers arranged in neat piles on one of the beds. She was standing and
considering the windows, bare of curtains, when cheerful sounds drew her
over to lean out and see what was going on. Girls were climbing out of
one automobile. Another was rounding the curve, ready to stop as soon as
the first should move on, and a third was entering the drive. Two
express wagons and a motor truck, piled high with trunks, went rattling
to the rear of Greycliff Hall.
Waving of handkerchiefs or hands, calls, laughter and “feminine shrieks”
met eye and ear. A more mournful girl than Cathalina would have smiled
at the sight. Some of the girls, in neat traveling suits, ran up the
steps to meet and embrace several hatless ones who hurried down to great
them. One girl tossed aside bag and purse to throw her arms
enthusiastically around three of her friends. “O, you’re all here, after
all! Aren’t you glad to get back? And you really did come, Mary!”
“Do you know when Gertrude will get in?”
“I have a new roommate and she is a perfect dear!”
“Well, mine’s a freak! I’m going to let her understand a few things.”
At this disagreeable remark, Cathalina realized that she was
unintentionally eavesdropping and drew within her room once more. But
her heart was warmed by the sight and she hoped that her roommate was
one of those happy girls. More girls arrived shortly, and the halls were
alive with the sounds of merry voices and the bumping of trunks at
different doors.
“I can’t stay here another minute!” cried Cathalina. “I’m going down to
see the fun!” She looked in the glass to see that the bows of her hair
ribbon were in order and made her way past groups of girls to Miss
Randolph’s parlor on the first floor.