Читать книгу Greycliff Wings - Harriet Pyne Grove - Страница 5

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The lights from Greycliff parlors shone out over the campus. Here and there, in the rooms above, a light would flash out, as the occupant of a room entered it and turned on her electricity. In the larger reception room, Hilary was at the piano, while Eloise, Lilian and some of the other girls were singing. The sounds of the music and happy conservation floated out and reached the ears of a young woman who had just alighted from a taxi. She paid the chauffeur, hurried up the steps and entered the entrance hall,—so far, alone, but only for a few moments, for exclamations of “It’s Patty, girls!” or “Oh, here’s Patty!” began to be heard. Soon the newcomer was the center of a welcoming group of girls. One took her traveling bag, another her pocketbook, and since the hat with its veil seemed to be in the way, she unpinned the stylish little affair and handed it to another of the girls.

“Oh, Miss West,—I mean Mrs. Norris, it is so grand to have you back!”

“Yes, indeed. Miss Carver is crosser than ever since the——”

“Hush! Don’t say anything about the war; Patty can’t stand it!”

“Oh, are you really married?”

“Yes, girls, I’m really married, and it is wonderful to have you glad to see me, like this,—I’m going to need—lots of company!” Patty put her face for a moment on Pauline’s comfortable shoulder, but lifted it bravely, smiling as she finished, “—he belongs to me anyhow, and he sent his warmest greetings to you all.”

“Who in the world is she?” asked one of the “new girls,” “and who is the ‘he’ she is talking about?”

“It is Mrs. Norris, who was Miss West and has been a teacher here for several years. Dr. Norris came here to teach, too, and they were engaged all last year. Then he was in camp and couldn’t get away to be married, I guess. Anyway, they were just married recently, and I suppose she has seen him off to France.”

Betty, Cathalina and Pauline saw their “Patty” to her room, put away her things for her, and hovered around till Miss Randolph, hearing of the arrival, came up herself to greet the bride. Mrs. Norris hastened to say that her next act was to have been a visit to Miss Randolph, after the dust of travel was removed, but Miss Randolph replied that she was only too glad to come to her. The girls immediately withdrew and went out to join the other interested girls, who wanted to hear all about the romantic wedding.

“We don’t know a thing,” said Betty. “Of course, we wouldn’t ask her, and it must be terrible to come back to teaching after just saying goodbye to your husband. But I imagine that she will tell us things after a while. Isn’t she a dear?”

On the next morning, the returned teacher met her classes as usual, a group of friendly girls clustering around her desk before the first recitation. A little before the second bell, one of the senior girls came in, her finger on a difficult line in Horace’s Satires, and said, “I simply can not understand, Dr. Carver, what he means!”

“Dr. Carver!”

“‘Dr. Carver’, indeed, do you want to insult her?”

The senior looked up wonderingly at the girls who thus exclaimed, for she was not conscious of having used the wrong name. Then she laughed. “Please forgive me, Miss West, I did not realize what I was saying. My mind was on those lines I could not get. Why, what is wrong now? You are all laughing!”

Mrs. Norris laughed, too, patted the senior’s arm and said, “Never mind, you will get used to the change. I don’t mind at all. If you forget, you need not apologize, but try to get it right the next time. There is the bell. Take your seats, please.”

No one would have known that Patricia West Norris had anything to worry over, and if there was any difference it was only that she was more inspiring. “I am a soldier’s wife,” she said to Betty, as one day they clambered out over the rocks and sat viewing restless waters, floating clouds and flying gulls. “If he can go as cheerfully as they all are going, to face the guns, I certainly will have to live up to him. I shall want to be by myself a little, of course, to think and to write letters, but you girls are helping me very much, and I am not going to mourn till something happens, and I am hoping that nothing will. I shan’t pretend that it is easy, though.”

Betty stroked her hand and they sat silently a little while. Betty had her own reasons for sober thoughts at times, but kept a bright face.

“See, Mrs. Patty (which was Betty’s name for her), there is smoke coming from that little house over the cave, and somebody is out in a boat fishing. We were always going to investigate that place.”

“It is probably the headquarters for some rough fishermen and you girls must keep away.”

“Oh, yes, we will. I have certainly lost all curiosity about it, though it is more or less mysterious. I’ll never get over wondering why Captain Holley was there and what was in the box and what he threw into the lake in such a hurry. It makes me think now of what the boys write about hand grenades and things.”

“Did it explode?”

“I couldn’t tell. We kept as still as mice, Isabel and I, until we thought the boat was far enough away for them not to see us. Even then we kept behind the bushes for a while and near the cliff as we went back to the Hall.”

“What do your hear from Donald Hilton?”

“Donald wrote me that he has a new kind of work, but couldn’t tell me just what it was for a while. It’s as bad as ‘Somewhere in France!’ We hardly know what the boys are doing! However, I’ve had long letters, from both Donald and my brother, telling me lots of things.”

“It is pretty chilly out here,” remarked Mrs. Norris. “Suppose we go back and walk along the beach a while to stir us up before we go in.”

“I am a little shivery,” acknowledged Betty, “for that wind is getting cold. But I love the water. I think that this is the most beautiful spot for a school that there could be. We just have everything—boating and riding, canoeing, the winter sports and all!”

“There come the girls. I suspect that Cathalina is looking for you.”

“I imagine that she is looking for you, too. When I left she was working on a poster for the Latin Club. It meets tomorrow, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are getting up a little stunt for society. All the clubs represented in the Whittier Society have to do something next time we meet. They may take it from what they have had in the regular club meeting, if they want to, but it is to be funny if possible. Isabel and Virgie are getting up a perfectly killing debate. Isabel’s ‘points’ are too funny for words. They don’t mean a thing, and she gets them off with all the oratorical agony she can put on. She goes all around the bush, tells what she is going to prove and doesn’t prove it. Eloise and I just lay back on the bed and laughed, when she was going over it in her room yesterday! They only have five minutes apiece, no rebuttals or anything, and I’m sure that the judges will decide in favor of Isabel, for Virgie declares that she can never get up anything as funny. She can think up points, though, and may capture the judges after all.”

“Oh, here you are, folks!”

Cathalina, with note book and pencil, approached Betty and Mrs. Norris, while walking down the slope behind her came Isabel, Lilian, Juliet and Hilary. The girls all wore their bright sweaters and locks were flying in the wind.

“How will this do for the announcement, Mrs. Norris?” Cathalina handed Patricia a slip of paper from which she read aloud

“NOTA BENE

SOCIETAS LATINA HODIE CONVENIT.

VENITE, SOCII, VENITE. OMNES ADSINT.

LINGUA LATINA IN LITERATURA, ETC.

(Latin Club, Room 32, Today)”

“Would you say ‘Societas Romana’ instead of ‘Latina’? asked Cathalina.

“I believe I would. That is good, Cathalina. Translate it, Betty.”

“Take notice. The Latin Club meets today. Come, friends—associates?—companions?—come. Let all be present. The Latin language in literature and so forth.”

“What would Greycliff be in Latin, Mrs. Norris?”

“Let me see. ‘Mons’, ‘collis’, ‘saxum’, ‘rupes,’—that is it, ‘rupes.’ Then ‘glaucus’ is blue-grey, sometimes silver-grey, or sea-green.”

“Rupes, is feminine,” announced Eloise. “Q. E. D., Rupus Glauca, Greycliff! Feminae Rupis-Glaucae sumus. Est optima schola omnium gentium!”

“Mercy, Elo’, don’t go so fast; I can’t keep up with you!” cried Isabel. “We are the girls, or women, of Greycliff. It is——”

“The best school in the world,” finished Eloise. “Cathalina found some Latin by Charles Lamb, giving some lines of ‘Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary’ and ‘Little Jack Horner’; so two of the girls are going to dress up as children and recite them, and some others that Cathalina made up. Come on, Cathalina, cheer up your Latin teacher by reciting your latest masterpiece!”

“Mercy, I couldn’t before her.”

“Just ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’!”

“All right.” Cathalina dropped a little curtsey, put one finger to her mouth and took hold of her dress with the other hand.

“Maria agnellum habebat, Cujus vellus niveum erat; Et quacunque Maria Iter faciebat, Agnellus etiam semper ibat.”

“There is more, but I have forgotten it. You have to accent the ‘i’ the first time in ‘Maria,’ and the first ‘a’ the second time, to get the right effect. The ‘i’ is either long or short.

“O, give us ‘Vetus Mater Hubbard ad armarium venit’,” urged Isabel.

“Can’t. I’ve forgotten it.”

Mrs. Norris was smiling over the fun. “Have you any serious Latin on your program?”

“O, yes. Most of the program is serious. Dorothy has an article on the famous Latin Hymns and some girls are going to sing the Adeste Fideles. Then one of the Academy girls is going to recite the first part of Cicero’s First Oration against Catiline, and there are some other things,—historia, musica, scientia, et multae res de quibus dicere tempus non est!”

“Listen to her!” exclaimed Isabel.

“I’ve just been writing it out, you know,” apologized Cathalina. “Tomorrow, when we have composition, Mrs. Norris, I probably can’t think of a thing!”

“Who is that waving out there?” inquired Pauline.

The party all turned to look toward the lake. A boat was bobbing over the waves, and soon a voice called. Somebody was using a pair of long glasses and had discovered who they were.

“They’re in sailor costume!” exclaimed Betty. “What do you think of that! It is Donald Hilton standing up there. I should think he would fall in!”

A fine-looking lot of sailors they were, rowing away. At a distance there was a small vessel from which they had come. Presently the boat came up to the dock, where by this time the whole party were waiting. The sailors rested on their oars, smiling in friendly fashion, while the officer in charge gave some order to Donald as he leaped out.

“I’ve just about five minutes, folks,” said Donald, as he shook hands with one and another in turn. “Have I permission, Mrs. Norris?”

“Just as long as you like, Mr. Hilton—I do not know your rank. I am only familiar with the infantry insignia.”

“Not very far up yet, Mrs. Norris. What is the Doctor by now?”

“A first lieutenant.”

“We’re doing a little scouting for Uncle Sam, and I got permission to stop here a few minutes to ‘see my folks’, or some of them.” Donald gave a whimsical glance at Betty.

“I think I’ll give you a little opportunity to visit with Betty,” said Mrs. Norris. “Since you can have so short a time, we will shake hands again and wish you safety and success. Come again.”

Mrs. Norris and the other girls drew away, walking slowly along the beach in the direction of the school. It was quite marked, the appropriation of Betty, yet in those times a few precious moments, with friends perhaps so soon to go across, were of first importance.

“Wasn’t that good of her? Betty, I’ve got your dear little picture safe in here,” and Donald patted the place where his heart was supposed to be. “I live on your letters, and haven’t been where I could get them for a week or two. We’re on a little detail with some secret service men. I can’t tell you about it now, and please don’t mention the secret service.”

“I won’t,” said Betty, rather dazed. “Are you really here, or not?”

“I am. This is me, in the language of the poet. We may be in these parts for a while, cruising around, and we may not. We are going to pretend to leave anyway, and you will see the old tub steaming away shortly. If I get a chance, I’m going to come again. Will you be glad to see me?”

“Oh, yes, Donald, you know I will.” Betty did not know just how glad she would be the next time she was to see him.

They sat down inside the little boat house, on one of the benches, and managed to say a good deal in the short time allotted them. The men in the boat, young men, all of them, talked, joked and sang while they waited. Finally the officer spoke to Donald, who said a last goodbye to Betty and climbed into the boat. Betty felt a little self-conscious, but stood out on the dock, poised like a bird, as she waved to Donald. The sailor lads waved their caps as they pushed off, then bent to the task of rowing back to the ship. Their voices came back to her as they sang one of the old sailor chanteys, though these were mostly college boys, with little experience as yet except in rowing for the championship of their schools.

Betty walked slowly away, looking back and out at the boat and small steamer. “Is this I, or isn’t it?” she thought. “Did anybody ever have such unusual things happen? Here came Donald, out of the lake, so to speak. Presto, a lot of good-looking boys like him, and a friendly officer, appear from ‘the deep,’ serenade Donald and me and the girls, and row off again.”

When Betty caught up with her friends, their comments were not unlike her own. “Betty’s always having adventures,” said Isabel. “Here am I, longing for romance and adventure, and nothing happens.”

“You were almost drowned last year,” suggested Betty.

“Yes, but I was unconscious all the time I was being rescued and missed all the thrills.”

“Mercy, child! You were welcome to all Cathalina and I had!” remarked Hilary.

“If it had only been good form for Mrs. Norris and us girls to get acquainted with some of those nice boys in the boat, life would not seem so barren,” sighed Isabel, with pretended sorrow.

“You very well know that you were the first to leave, and would have been horrified at the thought of talking to them!” exclaimed Cathalina, taking Isabel seriously.

“Perhaps, gentle mentor,” said Isabel, putting her arm about Cathalina.

“I would not love a sailor lad,

However bright his e’e;

A deck would have his roving feet,

No hearth-stane warm, with me!”

“Set that to music, Lilian, and sing it to Betty.”

“Is that your own, Isabel?”

“Yes. I thought it up while we were waiting for Betty. Donald is sort of Scotch, you know, so I put in ‘e’e’ and ‘stane’.”

“It seems to be catching,” said Eloise. “Lilian and Cathalina are always making verses, and now Isabel.”