THE “PERFECT NUMBER” IN AUNTS
Beth had something really wonderful to tell Molly Granger when the
winter vacation was over and she met that young lady on the train bound
for Rivercliff School.
And Molly listened in as rapt amazement as Beth had experienced
when she listened to the public talk of “Miss Cynthia Emeline Fogg
Freylinghausen,” as Molly ever after insisted upon calling their
mysterious friend.
“And cracky-me!” giggled Molly. “If only Maude Grimshaw could know
this! She was such a close personal friend of the heiress of the
Freylinghausen millions. Oh, my aunt! as Cynthia herself would say. In
my case--oh, my seven aunts! And Bethesda! They are all coming to our
graduation.”
“Who are?” demanded the surprised, not to say startled, Beth. Molly did
jump about so from one subject to another.
“My aunts. They have promised. Yea, verily, they have threatened. Do
you suppose, if I tell Miss Hammersly they are coming, that she will
feel it necessary to limit us all to fewer friends on graduation day?”
But that fondly-looked-forward-to day still seemed a long, long way
ahead to Beth and her class at Rivercliff School. First, much chatter
and wonder had to be expressed over the discovery that Cynthia Fogg was
a “millionairess”--Molly’s designation, of course.
Madam Hammersly was really the most amazed person who ever wore a cap.
She exclaimed to Beth once:
“Miss Baldwin, to think of my scolding that young lady so--and actually
discharging her for incompetence!”
“But she was incompetent, wasn’t she?” laughed Beth. “Whatever Cynthia
learned about the theory of domestic service, she certainly did not
learn much about the actual practice thereof.”
“But--Miss Freylinghausen!” murmured the good lady, who had all the
middle-class Englishwoman’s awe for riches and position.
Cynthia, at Mrs. Haven’s party, had been quite confidential with Beth.
The latter learned that Cynthia had by no means started out with the
intention of informing herself concerning the theory of domestic
service. She was merely an idle, disappointed, rich girl, disgusted
with her life.
She had actually run away from home--not from an institution--when the
chums met her on the _Water Wagtail_. She was not then of age, and she
had a guardian who had insisted on her going to Europe with his wife
and daughters. It was he whom Cynthia (as Beth and Molly continued to
call her) feared would follow her.
To hide her escapade the guardian announced that she had gone to
Europe. Meanwhile, Cynthia was bothering the good madam at Rivercliff
School.
“The dear thing!” she told Beth. “I shall always love and pity her, for
I did make her so much trouble!”
“But my dear Miss Freylinghausen!” gasped Mrs. Haven, who was listening
frankly to all this. “You do not mean to say that you were at that
school with Beth?”
“Not in the literary department--in the domestic department,” laughed
Cynthia. “Beth was really instrumental in getting me the job. And at
that I could not keep it. I couldn’t suit Madam Hammersly--and I really
tried, too. But Beth suited her. Beth showed herself to be the ‘better
man of us two.’”
Miss Freylinghausen’s evident liking for Beth--her admiration for her,
in fact--made its impression upon Mrs. Haven.
That lady’s eyes were often fixed upon the brilliant beauty of her old
friend’s daughter during the remainder of the evening--and with a new
expression in her own countenance.
But all this was “ancient history” now. Back at Rivercliff, Beth
Baldwin had altogether too much of really vital importance to think
of to be bothered by reflections upon either Larry’s mother or Larry
himself.
As she had feared, the girl from Hudsonvale returned to school to face
pronounced opposition in her own class. It did not so much matter about
the dislike expressed by girls in the lower grades; but it was in the
power of Laura Hedden, Miss Rice, and a few others of the seniors, to
make Beth’s existence very unhappy indeed.
And the worst of it was, it did not seem to be a situation that
Beth could control. She could not take affairs into her own hands,
as she had on that long past occasion of the Red Masque. She could
not withdraw herself now from the remainder of her class. Being its
president, and a leader in all its activities, it would have been
beneath her even to notice many of the slights and insults aimed at
her. The sting of them was quite as sharp, however. This situation was
harder to endure than any of Maude Grimshaw’s old-time persecutions.
At every business meeting of the senior class (and these became
frequent as time went on), the schism against Beth was shown to be
stronger. It did not do for her to propose the simplest thing; at once
some girl jumped up with an objection or a counter-proposal.
“Why,” said the usually jolly Molly, quite seriously now, “I believe if
we had to discuss right now whether ‘two and two make four,’ Hedden or
Rice or somebody, would jump up and claim it didn’t. What’s the matter
with you all, anyway?”
“Well, you’re not going to have everything all your own way, Molly
Granger, so there!” said one of the obstructionists.
“No,” said another. “Too many things have been cut and dried for us.
_We_ want to have something to say about what the senior class does.”
“Who’s we?” demanded Molly, warmly.
“Point of order!” drawled one girl. “Has Miss Granger been called to
the chair, _pro tem_?”
Beth began heartily to wish that Molly was chairman at these disorderly
meetings--or somebody besides herself. When the opposition could not
gain its point, very often the quarrelsome girls were so noisy that the
session adjourned without having accomplished the object for which it
had been called.
Of course, her inability to control the meetings counted against Beth.
Reports of them circulated through the school and quickly reached the
ears of the teachers. Miss Hammersly would be the last to know about
the friction in the senior class; but she must know in time, and she
would then call the class president to account.
Long as the time seemed to June, the days passed only too swiftly.
The senior class of Rivercliff considered itself, of course, quite a
wonderful body of young ladies. And Miss Hammersly did all in her power
to inspire them with the belief that the whole world lay open before
them to be conquered.
Beth kept busily at work with both her books and her needle. She was
piling up quite a little sum of money--there was a new object in view.
Mr. Baldwin was doing very well with one of his inventions, and a
second one promised to make both him and Larry Haven moderately
wealthy. The family was not likely to need her financial aid after all.
When she began to teach, her salary would be her own.
And now that she had so much money saved, Beth wished to try to recover
Great-grandmother Lomis’ corals. She had learned from her mother who
had the heirloom; she was sure Mrs. Haven never wore the corals; she
desired very much to buy them back from Larry’s mother.
For, after all, Beth was a real girl and loved jewelry and the like
just as much as any other girl.
This hope, however, was not the first thought in her mind. She
neglected none of her senior class tasks for the sake of earning more
money. She had even passed a good deal of her work over to another
girl in a lower class, who needed to help herself through school. The
doctrine of independence was beginning to be established at Rivercliff
School in spite of such girls as Laura Hedden.
Social affairs were always of more importance to the senior class than
to any of the other girls. The members of the senior class being really
the hostesses at the monthly “hop,” considerable time and thought had
to be given by the social committee to these occasions.
Beth, as class president, was chairman of this social committee; but
she saw so much opposition arrayed against her that she feared the good
times of the other girls would be spoiled if she did not withdraw. Her
act in doing this--with the excuse that she was too busy to fulfil the
duties attached to the chairmanship--did not please either her own
friends or the opposition.
“Say! what do you do that for?” Molly Granger demanded. “Want to ‘crab
the film?’ We need you to suggest ideas--and carry ’em out, too. Now,
you just see! The hop this week will be a fizzle.”
“Oh, be an optimist, honey,” Beth said, laughing. “Look on the bright
side.”
“That’s all right. I know how to be an optimist,” Molly returned,
though still resentfully. “It’s like the old fellow with the two teeth.”
“Who was he?” asked her chum.
“Why, this poor old chap could only eat the plainest kind of food, and
couldn’t read anything, or play anything, or make anything. Just the
same he seemed pretty cheerful and thought this world a pretty fine
place to live in.
“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m goin’ on eighty-two. I’ve been bald-headed thirty
years, a widower for twenty-five, had indigestion nearly all my life,
can’t hear unless folks holler at me, can’t see to read, ain’t reliable
on my feet any more, and I’ve only got two teeth left--but, thank God,
they hit!’
“That’s an optimist,” concluded jolly Molly. “But there’s nothing very
optimistic in the outlook for our evening parties if you back out,
Bethesda. I can’t see what you are thinking of.”
Beth dared not tell her chum just what she really was thinking of. It
seemed to Beth Baldwin that the only way to stop friction in the senior
class was for her to resign as class president.
Larry Haven seemed to have considerable business to see to for his
clients at Jackson City or in the vicinity that spring. And he came
frequently to Rivercliff to call. On the other hand, Mr. Roland Severn
was quite a favorite with Miss Granger. One or the other, sometimes
both, were at the senior receptions all those last months of Beth and
Molly’s stay at Rivercliff.
On the very evening to which Molly looked forward so apprehensively,
both Larry and Roland Severn appeared as guests of the senior class.
Beth had considered retiring to Number Eighty after supper and not
coming down for the party at all; but she was glad she had not done
this when she saw the boys. Larry would have been sure to make
inquiries and that would have called attention to the trouble in the
senior class.
That the opposition to Beth as president was really increasing, was
plain to all the observant girls. If Beth chanced to pass certain
groups the laughter and chatter ceased instantly. At other times
scornful glances and sharp speeches were flung at the class president.
With two such gallants as Larry and Roland (for both hovered about Beth
and Molly), neither of the girl chums could feel neglected. Indeed,
jolly Molly would not have been neglected in any case, for she was
popular with almost everybody, despite her partizanship in Beth’s
cause.
If there were any boys at these parties at all, they were sure to give
Molly Granger plenty of attention. Her tongue was the smartest of all
her class--and she could say funny and bright things without putting
any sting into them.
Some of the other seniors were popular with the visitors, too; but not
all. Miss Rice, for instance, although one of the best dressed girls in
the school, was almost sure to be a wallflower. She danced now and then
with some other girl; the remainder of the time she either sat alone,
or joined some equally neglected group.
That is, unless Larry Haven or Roland Severn asked for the honor of
being her partner. Always, if they were present, these young men each
danced with Miss Rice at least once. There were, likewise, other
wallflowers with whom these two danced.
Though a good skater, Miss Rice was not a good dancer. And she
possessed no flow of small talk and few of the graces that are supposed
to attract young men. Besides, she was downright homely.
Nevertheless, Miss Rice had a bright mind--too bright to believe, for a
moment, that her own personal attractions caused the two young men to
put themselves out solely for her pleasure.
Of course, as Miss Hammersly would not have allowed any of her girls
to dance continually with the same partners, Larry and Roland could not
hover about Beth and Molly all the evening. But they could easily have
found more attractive girls than the ones they often selected when Beth
and Molly were dancing with other partners.
On this particular evening Miss Rice retired to Madam Hammersly’s room
to repair a small tear in the lace of her skirt. The door was not
closed; but there was a heavy portière between the room and the hall
and anybody outside would not have guessed the girl’s nearness.
“Well, Severn, old boy, have you done your duty among the ‘overlooked
ladies’ this evening?” asked a masculine voice.
“I should hope so,” was Roland’s reply. “And twice with Miss Rice.”
“You’ve nothing on me there,” said Larry Haven. “I shouldn’t want
to displease Beth, but sometimes it’s a bore to dance with these
wallflowers.”
“Now you’ve said it!” young Severn agreed, with feeling.
“But Beth says I can’t come at all to these ‘shindigs’ if I don’t help
give the unpopular girls a good time. And she picks the ones I must
dance with, too,” and Larry chuckled rather ruefully.
“She said as much to me,” Roland Severn acknowledged. “She’s an
awfully thoughtful, kind-hearted girl.”
“She’s a dear,” agreed Larry, warmly. “Beth was always just the best
ever. Thinks about others more than she does of herself.”
The two young men walked away. Miss Rice remained in the semi-darkness
of the madam’s room for some time--long enough to feel that her cheeks
were cool again and that the tears were gone from her eyes.
The thoughtless words of the two careless young men served an
unexpected purpose. For once good grew from evil--sweet from the
bitter. Ill-tempered as Miss Rice had shown herself to be, she was not
shallow like Laura Hedden and some of the others who were opposed to
Beth Baldwin in school affairs.
She saw at once that Beth, without suspecting that Miss Rice or the
other wallflowers would ever know about it, had used her influence with
the two most popular young men attending the school dances to insure
the neglected members of the senior class the pleasure of having male
partners.
Of course, as a member of the social committee, it had been Beth’s duty
to see that all were made happy if possible; but Miss Rice well knew
that it was something besides duty that had suggested to the class
president this particular way of aiding in the pleasure of the social
occasion for all in the senior class.
To girls in general, and of the age of Beth’s classmates, the
attentions of young men are as pleasing and satisfactory as anything in
life. It gives even an awkward girl more confidence in herself to be
singled out as a dancing partner by young men.
The chums, however, really had little time for “boys,” as Molly
scoffingly called them. “Too much to do. And seven aunts to see me duck
from under the scholastic yoke,” added the jolly one.
Miss Rice’s discovery, made as she mended her torn lace in the madam’s
room, bore fruit. She was really a serious-minded girl.
She could recall now many thoughtful and helpful things Beth Baldwin
had proposed for the good of the senior class. Many of these
suggestions Miss Rice, herself, and the Laura Hedden crowd had opposed
with both vigor and venom.
In fully a dozen cases the awakened girl had to admit that Beth
Baldwin’s plans had proved wise. Her withdrawal now from the
chairmanship of the social committee was likely to be a real
catastrophe.
After all, Miss Rice was loyal to Rivercliff; and she believed that
others of the obstructionists were, too. Was their opposition to the
will of the majority of the senior class--and especially to Beth
Baldwin--going to be of any good in the end?
“Even if we make her resign the presidency,” she told some of her
confidants the day following the evening party, “it will create a
terrible row. And Miss Hammersly will be just as hurt as she can be.”
“Let her be!” snapped one of Laura Hedden’s particular friends. “What
business has she to let a pauper come to Rivercliff, anyway?”
“Now, that’s all nonsense, and we know it,” said Miss Rice, boldly.
“In the first place, it’s been awfully handy to have a girl like Beth
Baldwin here to do mending and sewing and the like, for us lazy ones. I
don’t like the girl, that’s all.”
“Then what are you fussing about her for?” demanded another of the
party.
“Because I see we’re fighting the best interests of the class and the
school. And for another thing,” added Miss Rice, turning a fiery red.
“What’s that?” was the general cry.
“Well--just because Beth Baldwin is a whole lot more decent and
forgiving than I would ever be if I were in her place,” blurted out
Miss Rice. “What do you think?”
Heatedly and baldly, she told of the discovery she had made the evening
before. It was not an easy thing for a girl to confess--that she was
unattractive, a veritable wallflower. And some of these very girls she
talked to were in that same class. But having spurred her courage up,
Miss Rice went through with her confession.
“And that’s the sort of girl Baldwin is,” she concluded, rather
breathlessly. “I know I shouldn’t have done it. I’m pretty sure there
isn’t a girl here who would have so secretly heaped coals of fire on
her enemy’s head.
“Come, now! let us be honest--let us be fair. I don’t like
poverty-stricken girls, or girls who come to Rivercliff as Beth Baldwin
did, any better than heretofore. But she has beaten me. I don’t mean
only in that skating race. She has beaten me in _being decent_!
“I admit that Miss Hammersly seems to favor her, and the teachers are
always boosting Baldwin. But I guess there is good reason for their
doing so. I have been acting the dog-in-the-manger part. Never again;
I’m going to bury the hatchet right here and now.”
“Bury the hammer, I guess you mean, Rice,” giggled one of her hearers,
nervously.
“All right. I’m going to stop knocking. Just as sure as you live, as
Molly Granger says, ‘every knock is a boost.’ We might as well stop
fighting Beth Baldwin.”
Of course, they did not all agree with the girl whose conscience had
been awakened. Laura Hedden was by no means of the same type as Miss
Rice. Laura managed to hold some of the opposition together.
But before the month rolled around and the date of another of the
school parties approached, a paper was circulated in the senior class
for signatures, asking Beth Baldwin to reconsider her resignation from
the chairmanship of the social committee. The first signature on the
paper was that of Miss Rice, followed by the names of several of the
former “party of the opposition.”
“So, ‘all’s well that ends well,’” quoted jolly Molly Granger, happily.
“You’ve just _got_ to get back into harness, Bethesda. The ranks of the
enemy are broken. It just proves what I’ve always said, my dear: You
are the most popular girl who ever came to school here at Rivercliff.”
“I wonder!” murmured Beth.
“You wonder what?” questioned her chum.
“I wonder how Rice came to change so.”
But unless Beth Baldwin chances to read this narrative of Rivercliff
School, she is likely never to be enlightened regarding this particular
mystery. And at this time there was so much else of moment going on
that she had little leisure to give to it.
The days were being counted at last. Such a fluttering in the dove-cote
as graduation drew nigh! Dresses to try on, last examinations to take,
trips to the milliner and shoe stores, theses to write, conditions to
make up, letters to write to friends and relatives, enclosing tickets
to the formal exercises and invitations to the various receptions and
teas.
“Seven tickets to Hambro,” groaned Molly. “I tried to get Miss
Hammersly to have a booth, or private box, built for my aunts. But what
do you suppose she said to me, girls?” groaned Molly.
“What did she say?” was the response.
“‘Do you suppose you are the only person who has aunts, Miss Granger?’”
“Never mind, my dear,” said Stella. “Perhaps all of them won’t come to
the exercises.”
“Not all come?” cried Molly. “That would be awful. Seven is the perfect
number in aunts. I could not spare one of the dears. Why, if Aunt
Celia, Aunt Catherine, Auntie Cora, Aunt Carrie, Aunt Charlotte, Aunt
Cassie and Aunt Cyril did not appear at Rivercliff to see me graduate,
I--I---- Well! I should not feel as though I were graduated, that’s
all!”
All this only a day or two before the great occasion. Beth was taking
home to one of her best customers the last piece of work she would do
at Rivercliff School. As she crossed the Boulevard she was suddenly
conscious of an old-fashioned family equipage, a pair of fat bay
horses, a fat footman and a fatter coachman, which drew across her
line of vision and stopped. And there was a fat brown hand, on which
sparkled several diamonds, waving to her from the carriage window.
It was Mrs. Ricardo Severn. She beckoned Beth to come near.