Читать книгу Katherine's Sheaves - Georgie Mrs. Sheldon - Страница 6

As the two girls were passing through the main building on their way to number fifteen, west wing, Katherine turned to her companion and observed, in a friendly tone:

"So this is your first year in Hilton Seminary, Miss Wild?"

Jennie, who had been "just boiling"—as she told her later—over the professor's recent crankiness and severity, turned to Katherine in unfeigned surprise, for there was not the slightest trace of resentment or personal affront in either her voice or manner.

Her brown eyes were as serene as a May morning; her scarlet lips were parted in a sunny smile that just disclosed her white, even teeth, and her voice was clear and sweet, without even a quiver to betray emotion of any kind.

Jennie Wild was a girl of many moods. Possessing the kindest heart in the world, and ever ready to run her nimble feet off to do any one a good turn, she was at the same time a veritable little "snapdragon." Touch her ever so lightly, and off she would go into paroxysms of mirth or rage, sympathy or scorn, as the case might be. Consequently she had looked for an outburst, or at least some manifestation, of indignation on Katherine's part, over the principal's recent sharpness and ungracious treatment.

"Yes, I'm a freshie," the girl replied, with a nod and one of her comical grimaces, but still curiously studying the placid face beside her, "but I'm not here as you are. I'm a working student"— this with a rising flush and defiant toss of her pert little head.

"'A working student?'" repeated Katherine, inquiringly.

"That's what I said," laconically. "I can't afford to pay full tuition, so I wait on Prof. Seabrook and his wife, and do other kinds of work to make up the rest. You see"—the flush creeping higher, but with a secret determination to "sound" the new junior- -"I haven't any father or mother, and my aunt, who has always taken care of me, is poor, and there was no other way to finish my education after leaving the high school—see?"

"Yes, I understand, and I think you are a dear, brave girl to do it," said Katherine, with shining eyes, and laying a friendly hand on her shoulder as they began to mount the stairs leading to the second story.

"Do you—truly?" queried Jennie, with a glad ring in her tones. "My! I believe I feel two inches taller for that"—throwing back her head proudly; "you've given me a lift, Miss Minturn, that I shan't forget; nobody has ever said anything so kind to me before. I tell you"—confidentially—"it does take a lot of courage sometimes to buckle on to a hard lesson, after running up and downstairs forty times a day, besides no end of other things to do. Most of the girls are pretty good to me; though, now and then, there's one who thinks she was cut out of finer cloth. I dote on the professor, even if he does get a bit cranky sometimes, like to-day, when something ruffles his stately feathers. His wife is lovely, too, and the teachers are all nice. But don't call me Miss Wild, please. I'm 'Jennie' to everybody. 'Wild Jennie' most of the girls call me, and there really is a harum-scarum streak in me that does get the best of me sometimes," she concluded, with a mischievous flash in her dark eyes.

"I shall be very glad to call you Jennie, if you wish, and my name is Katherine, with a 'K,'" said that young lady, with an inviting smile.

"I'm sure there isn't any 'harum-scarum' about you," said the girl, gravely, as she searched the sweet, brown eyes.

"That depends upon what you mean by the term," responded Katherine, with a ripple of mirthful laughter. "I assure you I love a good time as well as any other girl."

"U-m—p'rhaps; but I guess it would have to be a—a—genteel good time. There's one thing I don't need to 'guess' about, though—you just know how to stand firm on your heels when you need to."

"What do you mean by that?" questioned Katherine, with a look of perplexity.

"Nobody will ever make you take a back seat—not even his highness downstairs, when you know you're right. I say, though"—she interposed, eagerly—"weren't you mad, through and through, at what he said to you just now?"

"Mad?" repeated Katherine, flushing, and wondering if she had unconsciously manifested anything that had seemed like anger or temper during the recent interview.

"Yes; didn't you feel as if you'd just like to go at him with 'hammer and tongs'"—doubling up her fists and striking out suggestively right and left—"for being so crusty with you about your religion? I did."

Katherine laughed out merrily at the girl's strenuous espousal of her cause, and with a sense of relief to know that she had shown no feeling unworthy of a Christian Scientist.

"No, dear," she gently replied, "I could not feel anger or resentment towards any one because of a mere difference of opinion."

"U-m! well, you didn't show any, that's sure. You just faced him, sweet as a peach, but like a—a queen who knows she's on her own ground. I thought, though, you might be just boiling over inside; but if you say you weren't, I believe you, for I think you're 'true blue,' and I think Prof. Seabrook might have learned a lesson from you, for I never saw him quite so upset over a little thing before. I never had any use for Christian Scientists myself; don't know anything about 'em, in fact. But if they're all like you, I don't believe they'll ever do much harm in the world. Here we are, though—this is Sadie's room. She's an orphan, too, but she is very rich, and I tell you she just knows how to make her money fly—isn't a bit stingy with others, either," the voluble girl concluded, as she paused before a door at the head of the stairs in the second story of the west wing and rapped vigorously upon it for admittance.

"Come in," responded a good-natured voice, whereupon Jennie opened the door and entered a sunny, inviting apartment, the sight of which instantly gave Katherine a homelike feeling.

She also saw two pretty beds, on one side of the room, piled high with a motley assortment of dresses and finery that made her wonder how one person could ever make use of so many things, while an attractive girl was sitting upon the floor before the one dressing case, her face flushed and perplexed as she tried to pack another promiscuous collection into the insufficient space that would henceforth belong to her.

"Miss Minot," said Jennie, advancing farther into the room and thus revealing her companion, "this is Miss Minturn, who is to room with you. Prof. Seabrook sent me to show her here and to introduce her to you."

Miss Minot sprang to her feet and came forward with outstretched hand, her manner characterized by true Southern hospitality.

"Come in, Miss Minturn," she said, cordially; "come right in and sit down," and releasing the hand she had grasped, she whisked two or three skirts off a rocker, tossing them upon the heap on one of the beds. "I knew you were coming, and I've been working right smart to get ready for you. I've had full swing here so long I've filled every nook and cranny of the place, and now"—with a shrug and a deprecatory smile—"I shall have to learn to be very orderly to keep from encroaching upon your territory. But there's lots of time. The things can wait while we get acquainted a little. Jennie, you'll have to take the trunk," she concluded, with a careless glance at the girl.

"I haven't time to sit down, Miss Minot; I've my algebra lesson to learn for to-morrow morning," and Jennie, flushing with sudden anger at being so cursorily consigned to a trunk, turned to leave the room.

Katherine put out a detaining hand.

"Thank you, Jennie, for coming up with me," she said, with a friendly smile, adding: "And I hope there will be no more interruptions while you are conning the algebra lesson."

"I hate mathematics," Jennie affirmed, with an impatient shrug, "but the things you most dislike are supposed to do you the most good, so I just have to bottle up when it's time for algebra and try to play 'it's an angel being entertained unawares.' Good-by, Miss Minturn. I'll see you again later." And bestowing a bright glance and nod upon her new friend, she shut the door and went whistling cheerily down the hall.

"That's a queer 'pickaninny'! I didn't mean to hurt her, though," observed Miss Minot, as she curled herself up on the foot of a bed, preparatory to getting acquainted with her new roommate.

"She certainly possesses originality," Katherine laughingly responded; "but I like her none the less for that."

"Poor young one!" Sadie continued. "She doesn't have a very easy time of it here. She is a stray waif, and hasn't a relative in the world, to her knowledge."

"She spoke of an aunt," interposed Katherine.

"She calls Miss Wild 'aunt,' but she isn't, really, and the child actually does not know her own name. The way of it was this," Miss Minot went on to explain: "When she was a baby there was a terrible railway accident, in which it was supposed both her parents were killed, for nobody could be found to claim the child after it was over; and Miss Wild, an old maid with a small annuity, was on the same train, and, like an angel, cared for her, hoping some relative would be found when the dead were identified; but no clew to her identity was ever obtained, and the woman has done the best she could for her all these years."

"How very lovely and noble of Miss Wild," breathed Katherine, appreciatively. Then, glancing around the disorderly room, she added: "Now, Miss Minot, I feel almost like an intruder to have you so upset on my account. Do let me help you put some of these things away."

"Oh, never mind the truck," Sadie lazily returned. "I'll take care of the things presently. I'm right glad that you are a junior," she resumed, in a comfortable tone. "It is so much nicer to have a roommate who can go right along with you, and I'm sure you'll be a great help to me."

Katherine smiled as her companion thus unwittingly revealed a strong phase of her character. She saw that her tendency was to lean upon the nearest prop; and, as to be "forewarned is to be forearmed," she resolved to govern herself accordingly.

They chatted socially until the janitor appeared with Katherine's trunk, whereupon Sadie bestirred herself once more to bring order out of chaos.

This was much easier said than done, and as she saw that she was going to be very much crowded, Katherine unpacked but very few things at that time. She generously said she would try to get along with one-third of the closet and one of the drawers in the bureau, and utilize her trunk trays for her own waists and finery, while she could stow things not often needed in the lower portion.

Later she hired the janitor to put up a bracket shelf in one corner of the room, tacking a long chintz curtain to it, and, with a dozen hooks screwed into a cleat underneath, thus improvised a very convenient little closet for her individual use.

While the roommates were "becoming acquainted," Jennie Wild, full of what she had seen and heard, and, for the time being, unmindful of the waiting algebra lesson, rushed down to the recreation room, where many of the students were still congregated, and reeled off her news to a bevy of curious and interested listeners.

The information that the new junior was a "Christian Scientist" created quite a flutter of excitement. Some were horrified and indignant because such a pariah had been admitted to the seminary; others ridiculed and laughed to scorn the doctrines of the "new cult," while a few appeared indifferent and declared that every one had a right to her own opinion upon religious subjects.

The matter was pretty thoroughly canvassed, however, the attitude of the principal having weighty influence and governing the preponderance of opinion; and by the time the supper bell rang almost every student in the house had learned the whole story and decided that, for the present at least, she would give the newcomer a wide berth.

Katherine became conscious of the iciness of the atmosphere the moment she entered the dining room and came under the battery of the hundred or more pairs of curious and critical eyes that were eagerly watching for her to appear. Miss Reynolds, who had overheard some of the gossip and adverse criticisms, was also on the lookout for her, and approaching her with the graciousness which was her chief charm, observed:

"Miss Minturn, I have made a place for you at my table. Until you become better acquainted and choose your permanent seat, you shall sit close under the shelter of my wings."

"And a very friendly shelter, I am sure, I shall find it; you are very good," Katherine replied, with quick appreciation.

The teacher led her to her place, and, while they stood waiting for the professor to give the signal to be seated, introduced her to two or three of the girls in their vicinity.

Katherine keenly felt, and Miss Reynolds noted with increasing displeasure, the quickly averted eyes and cool acknowledgment of these introductions; but the principal drew out his chair, and Katherine's momentary feeling of awkwardness was covered by the confusion of getting into place. But for her teacher she would have had a very lonely and silent meal; for after one or two efforts to engage her nearest neighbor in conversation had been coldly repulsed, the tactful woman threw herself into the gap and the two chatted socially until they arose from the table.

"She is a dear, sweet girl, and I am going to nip this nonsense in the bud," Miss Reynolds observed to herself on the way upstairs, where, in the main hall and parlors, the students usually spent an hour, socially, after the evening meal. But as she presented her charge, here and there, she only became more indignant in view of frigid salutations and a general stampede wherever they made their appearance, not to mention the scarlet spots that settled on Katherine's cheeks and her unnaturally brilliant eyes, although, in other respects, she appeared perfectly serene and self- possessed.

"Please do not trouble yourself any further on my account, Miss Reynolds," she said, when she observed the look of dismay on her face as she glanced around the almost empty room they were in. "I understand the situation perfectly; they have all learned that I am a Christian Scientist, and, having conceived an erroneous idea of what that means, are avoiding me."

"It is the most absurd, cruel and unjust treatment of a stranger I ever heard of," returned her companion, with flashing eyes, "and I shall make it my business to see that there is a radical change before another day goes by."

"Please do not," Katherine pleaded, earnestly. "I would much prefer that matters be left to adjust themselves; any interference would only serve to intensify the antagonism against me; and I am sure when the girls come to know me better, they will at least realize that I am—harmless," and there was a gleam of genuine amusement in her eyes as she concluded.

"You are a brave little girl," said her teacher, with a glow of tenderness at her heart and a suspicious moisture in her eyes. "But"—with a resolute straightening of her graceful figure—"I am not going to have you left to yourself on this your first evening at Hilton, so come with me to my room and we will have a nice time by ourselves."

"Oh, I should like that," said Katherine, eagerly, "if it will not encroach—"

"It will not," smilingly interposed her new friend, and, slipping an arm around her, she spirited her away to her pleasant room, where they spent a delightful hour together.

When the eight o'clock study bell rang, Katherine returned to her own quarters, where she found her roommate already absorbed, apparently, in the preparation of to-morrow's lessons; for, as she entered, the girl merely glanced up from her book without speaking, then fastened her eyes again upon the pages before her.

Katherine sat down by her own table and soon forgot everything but the work on hand, although, at first, she had experienced a sense of discord and friction in the atmosphere. The hour passed in absolute silence until the next bell rang, when Miss Minot closed her books and abruptly left the room.

Katherine was not sorry to be left alone, and bringing forth from her trunk her Bible, "Science and Health," and "Quarterly," began to study her lesson for the coming Sunday. She spent half an hour or more in this way, then sat reading from her text-book until Sadie returned.

Katherine greeted her with a smile as she entered and inquired:

"What is the retiring hour, Miss Minot?"

"Ten; and every light must be out at half-past," was the somewhat curt response.

Then, after an irresolute pause, she walked over to Katharine, and picking up the book she had just laid down, asked:

"What is this that you were reading? Oh! it is that dreadful book

I've heard so much about."

"It doesn't seem dreadful to me," returned her companion, gently.

"Humph! 'At all times and under all circumstances overcome evil with good,'" [Footnote: "Science and Health," page 571.] she read from the page to which she had opened. "That's just another version of the 'golden rule,' isn't it?" Then, turning a leaf, she read from the next page: "'Love fulfills the law in Christian Science.' Humph!" she ejaculated again, as she put the volume down, "so you are a Christian Scientist! I heard about it downstairs."

"Yes," quietly returned Katherine.

"And do you really believe all they tell about the wonderful cures and—and the rest of it?" Sadie demanded, with curling lips.

"Yes."

"Tell me about some of them," said the girl, eagerly, her curiosity aroused.

"Excuse me, Miss Minot; I cannot, for Prof. Seabrook has forbidden me to say anything about the subject here," Katherine returned.

"Yes, I heard that, too," said Sadie, with a nod. "Well, the professor is dead set against it, and I'm down on it right smart myself. You see"—with a superior air—"I'm an Episcopalian; my grandfather was an Episcopalian clergyman, a rector, you know, and"—with a shrug and laugh—"I'm afraid he wouldn't rest easy in his grave if he knew I had such a rank heretic for a roommate. But"—leaning forward and smiling into her companion's eyes— "aside from that I like you right well, Miss Minturn, and if we leave this subject alone I reckon we'll get along pretty comfortably together; what do you say?"

"I am sure we will," cordially assented Katherine, "and"—with a merry twinkle in her eyes—"if you do not broach it, you may confidently rely upon my discretion."

"I own up," good-naturedly returned her chum. "I did broach it this time; but"—flushing slightly—"something had to be said to get it out of the way, don't you know? And may I—would you like me to call you Katherine?"

"With all my heart, Sadie."

The two girls smiled into each other's eyes; the last vestige of formality was swept away, and the atmosphere was clear.