SETTLING DOWN TO WORK.
"If I were to ask, which I am too wise to do,"--here a smile broke out
over the faces of her audience--"those among you who are homesick to
rise, how many do you suppose I should see upon their feet?"
A laugh now, and a good deal of elbow-nudging among the girls.
"In the twenty years I have been principal of this academy, I have
seen a great deal of this sickness, and I have sympathy with, and pity
for it. It has been often told us that the Swiss, away from their
Alpine homes, often die of it, but I have never yet found a case that
was in the least danger of becoming fatal; so far from it, I might
say, that when, since the Comforter sent to us in all our troubles has
taken the sickness under his healing care, my most homesick pupils
have become my happiest and most contented; so, if I do not seem to
suffer with you, my suffering pupils, it is because I have no fear of
the result.
"I have a prescription to offer you this morning. Love your home--the
more the better; but keep a great place in your hearts for your
studies. Give us good recitations in the place of tears.
_Study_--study cheerfully, earnestly, faithfully, and if this fails to
cure you, come and tell me. I shall see I have made a wrong diagnosis
of your condition."
Another laugh over the room, in which some of the unhappy ones were
seen to join.
"A few words more. I take it for granted that when a young girl comes
to join my school, she comes as a lady. There are qualifications
needed to establish one's claim to the title. I shall state them
briefly:--
"Kindness to, and thoughtfulness of, others; politeness, even in
trifles; courtesy that wins hearts, generosity that makes friends,
unselfishness that loves another better than one's self, integrity
that commands confidence, neatness which attracts; tastefulness, a
true woman's strength; good manners, without which all my list of
virtues is in vain; cleanliness next to godliness; and, above all,
true godliness that makes the noblest type of woman,--a Christian
lady."
Then she offered a short, fervent prayer, and the school filed out
quietly to the different class-rooms for their morning recitations.
She spoke to Marion as she passed her, and Marion knew that the
dreaded hour of her examination had come. She followed Miss Ashton to
a room set apart for such purposes; and, to her surprise, the first
words the principal said to her were,--
"Come and sit down by me, Marion, and tell me all about your home!"
"About home!" Marion's heart was very tender this morning, and when
she raised her eyes to Miss Ashton, they were full of tears.
"I want to learn more of your mother,"--no notice was taken of the
tears. "I had such a nice letter from her about your coming, so nice
that, though I hadn't even a corner to put you in, I could not resist
receiving you; and now you are invited to come into the very rooms
where I should have been most satisfied to put you. I will tell you
about your future room-mates; I think you will be happy there."
Then she told her of the three cousins, dwelling upon their characters
generally, leaving Marion to form her particular opinion as she became
acquainted with them.
What the examination was Marion never could recall. Her father was a
college graduate. Her mother had been educated at one of our best New
England schools, and her own education had been given her with much
care by them both.
Miss Ashton found her, with the exception of mathematics, easily
prepared to enter her middle class; and the mathematics she had no
doubt she could make up.
Probably there was not a happier girl among the whole two hundred than
Marion when, with a few kind, personal words, Miss Ashton dismissed
her. Her past studies approved, and her future so delightfully planned
for.
Miss Ashton gave her the number of her room in the third corridor,
telling her that the same young lady she had seen on the previous
night was waiting to receive her.
When, after some difficulty, she found her way there, the door was
opened by Dorothy, who had been watching for her.
"This is our all-together parlor," she said. "Gladys, you know, and
Susan,--this is my cousin, Susan Downer. We are glad to have you with
us."
It was a simple welcome, but it was hearty, and we all know how much
that means.
Gladys led her to the window. "Come here first," she said, "and look
out."
It was the same view she had seen from the guest-room the night
before, only now it was soft and tender in the light of a half-clouded
autumn sun.
"My father said, when he saw it, it ought to make us better, nobler,
and happier to have this to look at. That was asking a great deal, was
not it? because, you see, we get used to it. But there's the sea; you
know how the sea looks, never the same twice; because it's still and
full of ripples to-day, you don't know but the waves will be tumbling
over Judith's Woe to-morrow."
"I never saw the ocean," said Marion. "That is one of the great things
I have come to the East to see."
"Never saw the ocean?" repeated Gladys, looking at Marion as curiously
as if she had told her she never saw the sun. "Oh, what a treat you
have before you! I almost envy you. This is well enough for a
landscape, but the seascapes leave you nothing to desire. Now, come to
our room. You are to chum with me, and we will be awful good and kind
to each other, won't we?"
"How happy I shall be here!" was Marion's answer, as she looked around
the rooms. "I wish my mother could see it all!"
"I wish she could," said Dorothy kindly.
The rooms in this academy building were planned in suites,--a parlor,
with two bedrooms opening from it. These accommodated four pupils,
unless, as was frequently the case, some parents wished their
daughter--as did Gladys's father--to have her sleeping-room to
herself. In this case extra payment was made.
Marion found her trunk already in Gladys's room, and the work of
settling down was quickly and pleasantly done, with the help of her
three schoolmates. Lucky Marion! She had certainly, so far, begun her
Eastern life under the pleasantest auspices.