A NEW WORLD
Beth Baldwin had always supposed that all girls were “just girls.” Her
experience in the public schools of Hudsonvale had taught her that most
of her companions were, as Ella sometimes said, “made by the piece and
cut off by the yard.”
That is, after all was said and done, there was not much variety in
girls’ characters as displayed by the girl pupils of the Hudsonvale
schools. There were the nice, quiet girls, and the wild, “giggly” ones;
the vain girls, as well as the meek, inconsequential girls; with a
scattering of smart, up-to-the-minute girls, as well as some lovable,
cheerful girls whom it was a delight to know; and, of course, there
were a few downright mean girls who were best left alone.
In fact, Beth, before coming to Rivercliff School, had thought of girls
as “sorts,” rather than as individuals. She was now to learn that one
of the things that a well conducted boarding school does to a girl,
is to bring out her individuality, and if she has any color to her
character at all to deepen that color and develop her distinctive
traits.
Molly Granger was just a little different from any girl Beth had ever
before known. Despite her jolly, careless, cheerful disposition she was
certainly different, for instance, from Beth’s friend, Mary Devine.
There was a self-confidence in Molly that no girl could possess without
having been out in the world for some time. Yet she was not bold.
Stella Price and “Brownie,” as Beth found all the other girls called
Lilian Browne, were likewise distinctly dissimilar. Both were in
the grade above that which Beth would enter. They called themselves
“sophomores.”
Stella was a strangely aloof girl--one of those persons whose minds
seem traveling afar most of the time, without being dreamers. Oh no!
there was nothing idealistic in Stella Price’s character. But, if a
member of a group of girls, she was always the one who appeared to be
listening and who seemed to have little in common with the rest of the
crowd.
“You’d think,” was Molly Granger’s comment upon Stella, “that she was
as wise as an owl. The appearance of wisdom fairly trickles out of
her lineaments right now, doesn’t it? And I wager she’s thinking of
nothing more important than whether she’ll have two or four rows of
stitching on the hem of her skirt.”
[Illustration: A TALL, MASTERFUL GIRL STOOD AT THE MAIN ENTRANCE TO
WELCOME THEM.
Page 93.]
“Oh, Molly!” laughed Beth.
“Fact. As for Brownie--she’s just a nice, cuddly girl, and I love her.
But she’s the most obstinate toad in the whole school!”
This conversation had been held on the boat. Of course, Beth had
little chance to see many of her schoolmates that first evening. She
and Molly, with the two sophomores and Cynthia Fogg, piled into an
automobile bound for the school. Molly put Cynthia beside the driver.
Stella and Brownie were very curious about Cynthia.
“Who is she, Molly?” whispered Brownie. “She’s never coming to the
school?”
“Not as a pupil. I’m going to try to get her a place with Madam
Hammersly.”
“Goodness! The poor thing,” sighed Stella, commiseratingly.
Evidently, the girls considered the principal’s mother a good deal of a
Tartar. Beth herself had an opportunity for judging almost as soon as
they arrived at Rivercliff, regarding the important person in question.
A tall, masterful girl stood at the main entrance to the great school
building to welcome the arrivals.
“Just report yourselves at the office, Stella and Brownie and Jolly
Molly. Who’s the freshie?” she asked, halting Beth.
“Beth Baldwin,” she was told.
“All right. You for the madam’s room.”
“I’ll see to her, Miss Teller,” said Molly, very respectfully, to this
senior. “I’m going with Miss Baldwin to the madam.”
“And who’s this?” demanded the monitor, stopping the hatless Cynthia.
“I am going to take her to the madam, too,” whispered Molly. “She’s a
girl looking for work as parlor-maid or waitress or something.”
“We-ell. You know this isn’t the entrance for them. And madam is
dreadfully particular,” said Miss Teller, doubtfully. “Come back and
tell me if she’s to stay, Molly.”
“All right,” agreed the other, and she with her two protégées went in.
The entrance hall of Rivercliff School was a revelation to Beth. She
had been in two or three of the better houses of Hudsonvale besides
that of Mrs. Euphemia Haven; but none of them had been on a scale with
this, nor of such style.
The ceiling was very lofty. There were several very good paintings on
the walls, and they were properly hung. The furniture was heavy and
of substantial appearance, rather than ornate. The upholstery and
hangings were in soft tones and of rich fabrics which gave an air of
splendor to the place that almost awed the newcomer. She felt very much
like the country mouse visiting his city relative.
“Isn’t it scrumptious?” whispered Molly, who appreciated just how the
new girl felt. “I tell you, this and the two drawing-rooms are the show
places of Rivercliff.”
“And this beautiful staircase,” murmured Beth, gazing up the polished
spiral that ascended in the middle of the great room.
“Do you know,” giggled Molly, “this reception hall and that staircase
were what brought me here to school?”
“No!”
“Yes,” exclaimed the jolly girl, but with more seriousness. “Aunt Celia
came here first and saw it. Then Aunt Catherine journeyed up the river
to behold its wonders. Next, Auntie Cora and Aunt Carrie thought they
must see it--and they did so.
“I came to school for the first term, and Aunt Charlotte got so
lonesome for a sight of me, so she said, that she came up to visit. But
I found her here, every chance she got, just soaking her mind in the
artistic atmosphere of this reception hall,” giggled Molly.
“After that Aunt Cassie and Aunt Cyril simply _had_ to see it----”
“But, Molly!” almost shrieked Beth, in amazement, seizing the other
girl by her arm. “Every one of your aunts’ names begins with ‘C’!”
“Yes. I know it.”
“But--but---- Isn’t that funny?”
“No. Only alliterative,” said Molly, wide-eyed.
Cynthia’s low, mellow laugh broke out suddenly. “And their parents
never even thought of my name, I suppose?” she said.
“I don’t know. At least, grandmother had no other girls to name. She
liked the ‘C,’ I suppose, because all her forebears were mariners,”
declared Molly, with great seriousness.
“Did you ever hear the like?” murmured Cynthia Fogg.
“I wonder how much we can really believe of what Molly says?” said
Beth, pinching the culprit’s ear. “All this about your aunts--and seven
of them!--make me doubt if you have any aunts at all.”
“Cracky-me!” ejaculated Molly. “Wait till you see ’em.”
“Shall I ever?” said Beth Baldwin.
“I have their pictures--drawn by myself--in my room,” said Molly,
solemnly.
“Come, Jolly Molly!” warned the tall senior behind them, “take the
freshies along with you to the madam.”
Molly marched briskly in the lead toward the rear of the great hall.
Beth saw several girls looking over the balustrade above; but they
popped back in a hurry, laughing, when they saw themselves observed.
There was, however, from somewhere above, the hum of voices.
It was after the supper hour. There must be, Beth thought, a recreation
room on the second floor where the pupils gathered in the evening.
Molly was knocking with gloved knuckles on a door at the rear of
the hall. A brisk voice said, “Come in!” and the girls entered a
very plainly furnished, yet pleasant room. It was a contrast to the
luxurious entrance hall of the school; but everything was good and very
comfortable.
There was revealed, when the door swung open, a lady in black, with a
white lace collar on her old-fashioned, full-skirted gown and a white
cap on her iron-gray curls. She was sitting in a high-backed chair at
a small desk, on which was an account book. She stood up promptly, in
quite a military fashion, and looked at the trio of youthful visitors
through her eyeglasses.
She was a small, slight woman, in reality; yet she stood so straight,
and looked so stern and unbending, that she seemed to Beth to be at
least six feet tall.
“Good evening, young ladies. Miss Granger, I am glad to see you back.
How did you leave your aunts?”
“All seven of them, Madam?” asked Jolly Molly, roguishly.
“Collectively, do you mean, or shall I give their individual symptoms?”
“I see you are determined to wear the cap and bells,” said Madam
Hammersly; yet she smiled. “I fancy all seven are reasonably well.”
“And all seven sent their respects to you, Madam,” declared Molly.
“They are very kind. Will you introduce these others, Miss Granger?”
She glanced swiftly from Beth to Cynthia and back again as she asked
the question.
“This is Miss Beth Baldwin,” Molly said. “She comes from Hudsonvale. I
met her on the boat. We are chums already, Madam Hammersly.”
The madam nodded and smiled at Beth; but the latter did not feel that
she was expected to take the lady’s hand, nor was it offered.
“She enters the first-grade, you know, Madam. Can’t she have the room
next to mine?” begged Molly. “You see, she has no friend here but me,
and has never been away from home before.”
“I will think of that,” promised the madam. Then she looked inquiringly
at Cynthia Fogg.
“And this, Madam Hammersly,” Molly said, stepping nearer to the lady,
“is a girl we met who is quite needy. She is looking for work. Her name
is Cynthia Fogg. I am very sure she is a nice girl. She came up from
Hudsonvale and shared my friend, Beth’s, stateroom. I told her I would
introduce her to your notice, Madam. She really needs work.”
The madam looked askance at Jolly Molly for an instant. “This is
scarcely the time,” she began, but Molly interrupted:
“I know, Madam. I hope you will forgive me. But she had nowhere to
go--no friends and no money. She had a ticket to Jackson City, where
she was going to look for work; but she had nothing in view there, and
no more friends than she has here. Not so many, for Beth and I are her
friends.”
Cynthia Fogg flashed the jolly girl a single wondering glance. That
anybody should show particular interest in her seemed to amaze her.
“I--don’t--know,” said Madam Hammersly, slowly, looking at the
applicant thus introduced with her very sharp eyes. “You may sit down,
girl. I will see you after I have finished with the young ladies.”
She at once made a sharp distinction between the pupils of the school
and the applicant for work. Cynthia calmly turned to seat herself in a
chair in a retired corner of the room. Madam Hammersly looked again at
Beth, and with more interest.
“And this is Miss Baldwin?” she asked.
“Beth Baldwin, Madam,” said Molly, naively. “And she’s awfully nice.”
“I do not doubt it,” said the lady, kindly. “I hope you will find
Rivercliff a pleasant home and school, Miss Baldwin. You will not
see Miss Hammersly until morning. Then you may go to her office for
examination after prayers, which immediately follow breakfast. Miss
Granger can tell you all about the rules of the school--not because she
never breaks them, however,” she added, with grim pleasantry.
“Go to Miss Small for your supper, Miss Granger. Later I will see if I
can do as you wish about Miss Baldwin’s room. Have your trunks come?”
she suddenly asked Beth.
“My trunk and bag came with me, Madam,” answered Beth.
“The remainder of your baggage will come later, I presume?” said madam.
“Why, that trunk is all I have!” Beth blurted out.
“Ah? Your parents do not believe in an extensive wardrobe for a
schoolgirl. Perhaps they are quite right,” the lady said placidly. “I
will see, Miss Granger, if I can assign Miss Baldwin to the room of
which you speak. You mean Number Eighty, of which Miss Purcell was the
last occupant?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“I will see. You may now go. I wish you both good-night. I hope you
will find your place in this--to you--new world, Miss Baldwin, and find
it easily.”
Beth thanked her, and then turned to Cynthia before she left the room
in Molly’s wake. “I do hope you will be successful in pleasing her,”
she whispered, warmly squeezing the freckled girl’s hand.
Then she hurried out. She felt that the madam’s stern eyes were upon
her. This was, indeed, a new world to Beth Baldwin, and she had much
besides book-lessons to learn in it.