 CHAPTER XIII of TOM AND SOME OTHER GIRLS, by Mrs. George D. Horn-Basey, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. IF I PASS The Christmas holidays were over, the Easter holidays were over, and Spring was back once more. On the slope over which the new students had gaily tobogganed two months before, the primroses were showing their dainty yellow faces, and the girl gardeners were eagerly watching the progress of their bulbs. Hearing that other plots boasted nothing rarer than pheasant eye and lent lilies, Rhoda had promptly written home for a supply of horse-fieldy and emperor, which were expected to put everything else in the shade, but, alas, they were coming up in feeble fashion and showed little sign of flowering. Another year, the gardener said, they would do better another year, bulbs were never so strong the first season. Rhoda chafed with impatience, always another time, and not now. Always postponement, delay, uncertainty. Try as she might. Checks seemed to be waiting on every side, and she could never succeed in distinguishing herself above her fellows. In moments of depression it seemed that she was as insignificant now as on the day when she first joined the school. But at other times she was happily conscious of a change in the mental attitude towards herself. Though still far from the front, she was recognized as a girl of power and determination, an ambitious girl who would spare no work to attain her end and who might in the future become a dangerous rival. Dorothy had long ago thrown up the unequal fight, and even Kathleen had moments of doubt when she said fearfully to herself, she is clever than I am, she gets on so well, suppose, just suppose. With milder weather Cricket had come into fashion, and on the occasion of the first pavilion tea the blues turned up in force. Thomasina sat perched in manly attitude on the corner of the table, where, as it seemed, to the onlooker, every possible hindrance was put in the way of her enjoyment of the meal. Irene Gray presided at the urn, Bertha handed round the cups, and a bevy of girls hung over the cake basket, making critical and appreciative remark, Begs me that brown one with the cream in the middle, I've tried those macaroons before, they are as hard as bricks. I wish they would get coconut cakes for a change, I adore coconuts when they are soft and mushy, we make them at home, and they're ever so much nicer than the ones you buy. That's what they call plum cake, my love, case of brotherware art thou, like the Friday pudding, those little white fellows look frightfully insipid, what Rhoda would call a kid-glove flavor, I should say. Everyone laughed at this, for it was still a matter of recent congratulation in the house that Rhoda Chester had invented an appropriate title for a certain mould or blanc-mâche which appeared at regular intervals and possessed a peculiar flavor which hitherto had refused to be classified. In a moment of inspiration Rhoda had christened it kid-glove jelly, and the invention had been received with acclamation. Did she say that she had never distinguished herself? Had never attracted attention? No. Surely this was wrong, for in that moment she had soared to the very pinnacle of fame. So long as the school endured the name which she had created would be handed down from generation to generation. Alas! Alas! Our ambitions are not always realized in the way we would choose. When one has pined to be in a first team, or to come out head in an examination, it is a trifle saddening to be obliged to base our reputation on the nickname of a pudding. Rhoda smiled brightly enough, however, at the present tribute to her powers, and passed her cup for a third supply with undiminished appetite. She had been playing with her usual frantic energy and was tired and aching. Her shoulders bent forward as she sat on her chair. She shut her eyes with a little contraction of the brows, the dimple no longer showed in her cheek, and when Bertha upset the tray upon the floor, she started with painful violence. Her nerves were beginning to give way beneath the strain put upon them, but instead of being warned and easing off in time, she repeated obstinately to herself. Three months more, two and a half, only two. I can surely keep up for eight weeks and then there will be all the holidays for rest. It seemed, indeed, looking forward, as if the world were bounded by the coming examination, and that nothing existed beyond. If she succeeded, very well it was finished. Her mind could take in no further thought. If she failed, clouds and darkness, chaos and destruction, the world would have come to an end so far as she was concerned. It filled her with surprise to hear the girls discuss future doings in their calm, unemotional fashion. But though she could not participate, the subject never failed to interest. The discussion began again now, for it was impossible to keep away from the all-engrossing subject, and the supposition, if I pass, led naturally to what would come afterwards. If I do well, I shall go up to Nunum and try for the Gilchrist Scholarship, fifty pounds a year, for three years. It's vacant next year, and I don't see why I shouldn't have it, as well as anyone else, said Bertha modestly, and Tom pounded the table with her heels. Go in, my beauty, go in and win. I only wish you could wait a few years until I am there to look after you. I am going to be principal of Nunum one of these fine days, and run it on my own lines. No work and every comfort, breakfast and bed and tea in the grounds, nothing to do but wait upon me and pander to my wishes. I daresay, so like you, Tom, you would be a terror, and work the girls to death. You are never tired yourself, so you would keep them going till they dropped. I pity the poor creatures who come under your rule, but most likely you will never be tried. You may be first mistress or second or third, but it's not likely you'll ever be a principal. It's not likely at all, it's positive, sure, retorted Tom, calmly. Principals like poets are born, not made, and the cars can't afford to lose me. I don't say for a certainty it will be Nunum. It may possibly be Gurdon or Somerville or Lady Margaret Hall. But one of the two or three big places it's bound to be. No one shall call me conceited, but I know my own powers, and I intend that other people shall know them too. Education is my sphere, and I intend to devote my life to the advancement of my sex. Pass the cake, someone. I haven't had half enough. Yes, my vocation is among women. You will hardly believe me, my dears, but men don't seem to appreciate me somehow. There is a je ne sais quoi, in my beauty, which doesn't appeal to them a mite. But girls adore me. I have a fatal fascination for them, which they can't withstand. There's Rhoda there. She intended to hate me when she first came. And now she adores the ground I tread on. Don't you fuzzy! You watch her smile and see if it's not true. Very well, then, I see plainly what Providence intends, and I'm going straight towards that goal. And it is what you would like. You would choose it if you had the choice. Rather just. It's the dream of my life. There is nothing in all the world that I should like so much. Pretty Dorothy sighed and elevated her eyebrows. Well, I wouldn't. I enjoy school very much. I want to do well while I am here, but when I leave, I never want to do another hour's study. If I thought I had to teach, I should go crazy. I should like to have a good time at home for a few years, and then, yes, I should. I should like to marry a nice man who loved me and lived in the country and have a dear little home of my own. Now I suppose you despise me for a poor spirited wretch, but it's true and I can't help it. But Tom did not look at all scornful. She beamed up the speaker over her slice of plum cake and cried blandly, Bless you, no, it's quite natural. You are that sort, my dear, and I should not have believed you if you had said anything else. You'll marry, of course, and I'll come and visit you in the holidays, and you'll say to him, What a terrible old maid Thomasina has grown, and I'll say to myself, Poor dear old Dorothy, she is painfully domestic, and we will both pity each other and congratulate ourselves on our own escape. We have different vocations, you and I, and it would be folly to try to go the same way. You are happy creatures if you are allowed to go your own way, said Bertha, sadly. I'm not, and that's just a trouble. I'm not a star like Tom. But I love work and want to do some good with my education. I should be simply miserable settling down at home, with no occupation but to pay calls or do poker work and sewing. Yet that's what my parents expect me to do. They are rich and can't understand why I should want to work when there is no necessity. I may persuade them to send me abroad for a year or so, for languages and music, but even then I should be only twenty, and I can't settle down to vegetate at twenty. It's unreasonable to send a girl to a school where she is kept on the alert, body and mind, every hour of the day, and then expect her to be content to browse for the rest of her life. Now what ought one to do in my position? I want one thing, they want another. Whose duty is it to give way? She looked at Tom as she spoke, but Tom swung her feet to and fro, and went on munching plum-cake and staring into space with imperturbable unconsciousness. Bertha called her sharply to attention. Tom! Answer, can't you? I was speaking to you. Rather not, my dear, ask someone else, some wise old Solomon who has had experience. No, thank you. I know beforehand what he would say. Submission, my child, submission. Parents always know best. Young people are always obstinate and hot-headed. Be ruled, be guided. In time to come you will see, yeah! cried Bertha with a sudden outburst of irritation. I'm sick of it. I've had it dint into my ears all my life, and I want to hear someone appreciate the other side for a change. I'm young. I've got all my life to live. If I were a boy, I should be allowed to choose. Surely. Surely I ought to have some say in my own affairs. Don't shirk now, Tom, but speak out and say what you think. If you were going to be a principal, you ought to be able to give advice, and I really do need it. Yes, said Tom slowly, but you needn't have given me such a poser to start with. It's a problem, my dear, that has puzzled many a girl before you and many a parent, too. The worst of it is that there is so much to be said on both sides. I could make out an excellent brief for each, and while I think of it it wouldn't be a half-bad subject to discuss some day at our debating society. To what extent is the girl justified in deciding on her own career in opposition to the wishes of her parents? Make a note of that, some one will you, it will come in usefully. I'm thankful to say my old dad and I see eye to eye about my future, but if he didn't it would be trying. I hate to see girls disloyal to their parents, and if the revolt of the daughters were the only outcome of higher education, I should say the sooner we got back to deportment and the use of the globes the better for all concerned. But it wasn't all peace and concord even in the old days. Don't tell me that half a dozen daughters sat at home making bead mats in the front parlor and never had ructions with their parents or themselves. They quarreled like cats, my dears, take my word for it, and were ever so much less happy and devoted than girls are now, going away to do their work and coming home with all sorts of interesting little bits of news to add to the general's door. It's impossible to lay down the law on such a question, for every case is different from another, and I think a great deal depends on the work waiting at home. If the girl is an only daughter or the only strong or unmarried one, there is no getting away from it that her places with her parents. We don't want to be like the girl in punch who said, My father has gout and my mother is crippled and it is so dull at home that I am going to be a nurse in a hospital. That won't do. If you have a duty staring you in the face, you're a coward if you run away from it. An only daughter ought to stay at home when there are two or three it's different. It doesn't take three girls to arrange flowers and write notes and pay calls and so for bazaars, and where there is a restless one among them who longs to do something serious with her time, I think the parents should give way. As you say, we have to live our own lives and as boys are allowed to choose, I think we should have the same liberty. I don't know how large your family is, Bertha, or three sisters at home, one engaged, but the other two not likely to be so far as I can see, and mother quite well and brisk and active. Well, don't worry. Don't force things or get cross and they'll give in yet. You'll see. Put your view of the case before them and see if you cannot meet each other somehow. If they find that you are quiet and reasonable, they will be far more inclined to take you seriously and believe that you know your own mind. That's all the advice I can give you, my dear, and I'm afraid it's not what you wanted. Perhaps someone else can speak a word in season. Well, I sighed with the parents, for if the rich are going to work, what is to become of the poor ones like me, who are obliged to earn their living? cried Kathleen, eagerly. Now, if Bertha and I competed for an appointment, she could afford to take less salary, and so, of course, no, no, no, that's mean. I do big and pray all you blues that whatever you do, you never move a finger to reduce the salaries of other women, cried Tom fervently. If you don't need the money, give it away to governess's institutions, convalescent homes, whatever you like, but for pity's sake. Don't take less than you do. For my own part, I must candidly say that when I am principal, I shall select my staff from those who are like Kathleen and find work a necessity rather than a distraction. It seems to me, if I were rich and idle, I could find lots of ways of making myself of use in the world without jostling the poor marthas. I could coach poor governess's who were behind the times but couldn't afford to take lessons. I translate books into braille for the blind, I teach working boys at their clubs, and half a dozen other useful interesting things. There's no need to be idle even if one does live at home with a couple of dear old conservative parents, where there's a will, there's a way. But I want it to be my way, side birther dolefully, like the majority of people who ask for advice. She was far from satisfied now that she had got it. CHAPTER XIV One of the Hearst Manor institutions was a whole holiday on the first Saturday in June, which was technically known as the Rebels. The holiday had been inaugurated partly to celebrate the coming of summer and partly as a kindly distraction for the students who at this season of the year were apt to be too absorbingly engrossed in the coming examinations. Old pupils declared that at no other time was the principal so indulgent and anxious to second the girl's fancies, while the particular form of entertainment was left entirely to their discretion. When the program was drawn up, it was submitted to Miss Bruce for approval but, as she had never been known to object, the consultation was more a matter of form than necessity. To Rhoda's surprise, she found her name among those of the general committee posted on the notice board and the delight and pride consequent thereon diverted her thoughts into a new channel and were as good as a tonic to her nervous system. It was a compliment to have been chosen, for the dozen girls had been drawn from all five houses and Irene Gray and herself were the only representatives of the blues. It's a beauty competition evidently. Can't think why they haven't asked me, was Tom's comment, but Rhoda felt convinced that she had been selected because of the dramatic abilities which she had exhibited on more than one of the Thursday frolics and was not far wrong in her surmise. She had, in truth, a keen eye for effect, a power of manufacturing properties and of learning and even inventing suitable rhymes which were invaluable in organizing and entertainment. And besides, said the games captain to her secretary, there's her back hair. She has really admirable back hair. The committee held their meetings in the study of the head green and anxiously discussed their program on previous years they had held Jim Connors and various kinds of picnics, but the ambition was ever to hit on something so original and startling as to eclipse all that had been previously attempted. They racked their brains and gazed helplessly at the ceiling while the chairwoman begged for remarks after the manner of all committees since the world began. Then at last someone hazarded a suggestion, someone else took it up and added a fresh idea and the ball, once set rolling, grew bigger and bigger until, at last, there it was, complete and formed before them. It was a charming program, quite charming. They were full of admiration for their own cleverness in inventing it and away they flew, smiling and confident, to consult Miss Bruce and her sanctum. The principal read the sheet handed to her and the corners of her lips twitched in humorous fashion. She looked across at the twelve eager young faces and smiled a slow kindly smile. It sounds very charming, she said. I am sure it would be most entertaining, but would it not involve a great deal of preparation? Do you think you have realized how much work you will have? Oh yes, Miss Bruce, we can manage it easily, cried the chairwoman. We can get as many helpers as we like in game hours and you always allow us an afternoon off to make preparations. Certainly, certainly, you can do nothing without time. Very well then, if you think you can manage, I have no objection. You have my permission to ask the carpenter and gardeners to help you, and if anything is needed, your furnaces shall go into town and make your purchases. Nothing could have been more gracious. The committee gave a unanimous murmur of acknowledgement and were immediately smitten with embarrassment. So long as one has something to say, it is easy to retain self-confidence, but when the business is finished, the necessity of saying goodbye and beating a retreat becomes fraught with terror to the timid guest. The girls felt that it would be discourteous to retire without speaking another word, but what to say, they could not think. So they huddled together beside the door and waited to be dismissed, which they presently were in the kindest of manners. I shall look forward with great pleasure to the performance. Success to your efforts, you will have plenty to do, so I won't detain you any longer. Good afternoon. The committee retired in haste, gasped relief in the corridor and promptly set about collecting forces for the furtherance of its aim. They enlisted the sympathies of the workmen engaged in the grounds, selected parties of amateur gardeners to supplement their efforts, and chose the forty prettiest girls in the school to be on the acting staff. Each new worker was pledged to secrecy as surprise was to be the order of the day and a certain portion of the grounds was marked off by placards bearing the announcement that trespassers would be persecuted. A casual observer might have imagined a slip of the pen in this last word, but the girls knew better. It would be persecution indeed and of no light nature which would be visited upon a willing violator of that order. For the next ten days preparations went on busily, both outdoors and in the various studies. Lessons, of course, could not be interrupted, but the hours usually devoted to games, added to odd five minutes of leisure, made up a not inconsiderable total. The onlookers reported eagerly among themselves that the dancing mistress had been pressed into the service and that sundry mysterious boxes had been sent to the leading members of the committee from their various homes. Everyone agreed that it was to be very grand and they prepared to enjoy the entertainment in a hearty but duly critical fashion, for when we ourselves have not been asked to take part in an enterprise, pride has no better consolation than to think how much more successful it would have been in happier circumstances. The committee announced that should the weather prove unpropitious, a modified form of the proposed entertainment would be given in Great Hall, but no one seriously contemplated such a catastrophe. Providence was so invariably kind to revels that the oldest student could not recall a day that had been less than perfect and this year was no exception to the rule. The air was soft, the sky was blue, the grass unscorched as yet by the heat of summer of a rich emerald green, the sunshine sent flickering shadows over the paths, it was one of those perfect days when our native land is seen at its best and when England is at her best, go east or west or where you will, you can find no place to equal it. Every single inmate of school came down to breakfast with a smile on her face, for this was a day of all play and no work and as the former entertainment did not take place until three o'clock, the whole morning remained in which to laze after one's heart's desire. Even the committee were so well on with their preparations that by eleven o'clock they were free to join their friends and Rhoda looked eagerly round for Miss Everett. No one had seen her, however, and a vague report that she was headache sent the searcher indoors to further her inquiries. She found the study door closed, but a faint voice bade her enter and there on the sofa lay Miss Everett, with a handkerchief bound round her head. She looked up and smiled at Rhoda's entrance and said immediately, Do you want me, dear, can I do anything to help you? So likely that I would let you, isn't it? returned Rhoda scornfully. What's the matter? Is your head bad? Yes, no, it isn't really so very bad, but one seems to give way when there is nothing to do. If it had been an ordinary day I should have gone on with my work and even played games. I've managed to get through many a time when I've been worse than this, but it's a luxury to lie still and rest. I'm enjoying it very much. You look like it, said Rhoda, shortly, noting with sharp eyes, the flushed cheeks, the drops of tell-tale moisture on the eyelashes. This room is like an oven and you'll get worse and worse as the day goes on. Now, it's my turn to order you about and you've got to obey. Get up and put on your hat and come out with me. Rhoda, I can't. It's cruel. I can't walk about. Do, do let me rest when I get a chance. I'm so tired. You're not going to walk about. You're going to rest better than you could ever do here. So don't worry and make objections. Here's your hat and here's my arm and please come along without any more arguing. You'll be thankful to me when I get you nicely settled. When, echoed Miss Everett ungratefully, but she was too languid to oppose the girl's strong will. So she sat up, put on her hat, and allowed herself to be led downstairs and into the grounds. The girls were scattered about under the trees, but Rhoda skirted round the paths so as to avoid them as much as possible and presently came to a sheltered spot where Dorothy lay swinging to and fro in the most superior Canadian hammock, which had been sent from early Chase at the beginning of the summer weather. She peered over the edge as footsteps approached and Rhoda cried briskly, Tumble out Dorothy, I said you could have it until I needed it myself and I want it now, for Miss Everett, she has a headache and is going to rest here until lunch. Now then I'll shake up the pillows and if you don't say it is the most delicious hammock you ever lay in. I can't think much of your taste. I'll put up the parasol and tuck it into the ropes so that you may feel nice and private if anyone passes. Now then, how's that? Isn't that comfy? Isn't that an improvement on the stuffy little study? Miss Everett rested her head on the cushion and drew a long breath of enjoyment. It's beautiful, it's perfect. I'm so happy I never want to move again. You are not to move until I tell you. I'll have to sleep and I'll promise faithfully to wake you in time for lunch. I must have you well for the afternoon, you know. I'd be heartbroken if you didn't see me in my grand— Never mind, that's a secret. But you will rest, won't you? You will be good and do as you were told. Kiss me, replied Miss Everett simply, lifting her dark eyes to the girl's face with an appeal so sweet that it would have touched a heart of stone. No sooner was the kiss given than down fell the eyelids and Rhoda crept away realizing that sleep, the best of medicines, was indeed near at hand. She herself spent a happy morning lying flat on her back on the grass in company with half a dozen other girls, discussing the affairs of the world in general, the blatant follies of grown-ups and the wonderful improvements which would take place when they in their turn came into power. Rhoda was specially fervent in denunciation and her remarks were received with such approval that it was in high good temper that she went to awaken the sleeper from her two hours nap. Miss Everett declared that she felt like a giant refreshed, had not a scrap of pain left and had enjoyed herself so much that if revels ended there and then she would still consider it an historic occasion which was satisfactory indeed. But there was more to follow. There was a great dressing up in the cubicles after lunch, the girls making their appearance in PK skirts and crisp new blouses and rustling into the grounds all starch and importance. The persecuting placards had been withdrawn and replaced by others directing the visitor's steps in the right direction. They followed meekly, this way to the opening ceremony and found themselves on the south side of the lake where a semicircle of chairs had been set for the teachers and gaily hewed rugs spread on the grass to protect the freshness of the PK skirts. Here no doubt was the place appointed but where was the ceremony? The girls took their places and began to clap in impatient fashion, speculating vaguely among themselves. What's going to happen now? Why did we face this way where we can't see anything except the lake? There's the landing-place opposite. Perhaps they're going to play water polo. Wouldn't be bad fun in this weather. I think someone should have been here to receive us. It's rude to let your guests arrive without a welcome. If I had been on the committee, what's that? What? Oh, music. But where? It's growing nearer. It's a violin and a cello and someone singing. This grows mysterious. Oh, I say look, look to the right, to the right. Oh, isn't it romantic and lovely? The girls craned forward and cried aloud in delight. For round the corner of the lake was slowly coming into view a wonderful rose-read bark with youth at the prow and pleasure at the helm clad in the most fanciful and quaint of garments. It would have been idle to assert that this wonderful craft was the old school tub, guaranteed to be as safe as a house, and as clumsy as hands would make it. For no one could have been found to listen to such a statement. Garlands of roses fluttered overhead. Roses reed the sighs, pink linings concealed the dark boards, and as for the occupants, they looked more like denizens of another world than practical modern-day schoolgirls. The oars women stood at their posts wearing pale green caps over their flowing locks and loose robes of the same color. The musicians were robed in pink with fillets of gauze tied round their heads, and underneath the central awning sat a gorgeous figure who was plainly the queen of the ceremony. Amidst deafening applause the boat drew up before the landing stage, and while the oars women stood to attention, the central figure alighted and moved slowly forward until she stood in front of the semicircle of watchers. It's Rhodochester gasped the girls incredulously, pinching their neighbors' arms in mingled excitement and admiration, and Rhodochester, in truth it was, transformed into a glorified vision, far removed from the ordinary knickerbockered, pigtailed figure associated with the name. A white robe swept to the ground, the upper skirts necked over with rose leaves of palest pink. In the right hand she bore a scepter of roses and a wreath of the same flowers crowned her head. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she bore herself with an erect, fearless mean which justified her companion's choice. When it had become necessary to apportion the role of Mistress June, the committee had unanimously agreed it would be safest in Rhoda's hands. She would not quail at the critical moment, mumble her words nor forget her duties, but, on the contrary, would rise to the occasion and find the audience a stimulus to her powers. It was her genius, also, which had invented the verses for recitation, so there seemed a double reason for giving her the place of honour. So Rhoda had sent home an imperious dressmaking order, and here she was, dainty as loving care could make her, her flaxen mane streaming over her shoulders, the scepter extended in welcome, as fair a personation of Mistress June as one need wish to see. Friends and companions and our teachers dear, we give you welcome to our kingdom here. Once more has kindly summer come to stay, and Mistress June resumes her wanted sway. We are your hosts, and to our leafy bowers, we welcome you to spend the sunny hours, and happy revels we will all unite in song and dance and ancient pastimes bright. All cares forgotten, labours laid aside, hearts turned to joy, and glad eyes open wide. To watch as when bright fey and sportive fawn wove their gay dances on the woodland lawn. Alas, the stress of higher education has vanished these, the poet's fond creation, but nature not to be denied has sent yet fairer forms for gladsome merriment. Who wait my nod? The beauty of the nation are gathered here to win your approbation, but you grow weary. Hither maidens all forth from your bowers, responsive to my call, with roses crowned, let each and all advance, and let the revels start with song and dance. It was astonishing how well it sounded recited with an air and to an accompaniment of smiles and waving hands. Little Hilary Jervis, the youngest girl in the school, remarked rhapsodically that it was just like a pantomime, and the finale to the address was so essentially dramatic that her elders were ready to agree with her decision. Rhoda backed gracefully to the spot where her flower-decked chair had been placed by her attendants, and, having taken her seat, clapped her hands as a signal to her handmaidens. Instantly from behind the shelter of the trees, there tripped forward a band of pink and green-robed figures bearing in their hands garlands of many-colored roses. The roses were but paper, it is true, and of the flimsiest manufacture, but at a little distance the effect could not have been improved, and when the dance began to the accompaniment of music on the waters, the effect was charming enough to disarm the most exacting of critics. It was an adaptation of the scarf dance, practiced by the pupils, but the dresses, the circumstances, the surroundings added charm to the accustomed movements, and there were, of course, deviations from the original figures, noticeably at the end, when, with a simultaneous whirling movement, the dancers grouped themselves around their queen holding up their skirts so as to entirely conceal their figures. The greens were on the outside and the pinks arranged in gradually deepening lines, and Rhoda's smiling face came peeping out on top. It was evident, to the meanest intellect, that the final tableau was intended to represent a rose, and, granted a little stretch of imagination, it was really as much like it as anything else. This first item of the program over, the dancers grouped themselves in attitudes of studied grace, while little green-robed heralds led the way to what, for one of a more high-flown name, was termed the Rosebower, where various sports and competitions had been organized. Roses were, indeed, conspicuous by their absence, but there was an archery ground, an amateur aunt sally, clad one regrets to state in the garb of a university examiner, and many original and amusing trials of skill. Tom came off victorious in an obstacle race, in the course of which the competitors had to pick up and set in order a prostrate deck chair, correctly add up a column of figures, unravel a knotted rope, and skip with it for fifteen or twenty yards, thread a needle, and hop over the remaining portion of the course. While Dorothy, who held a stick-poison her hand, called out in threatening tones, you would pluck me an arithmetic would you take that, and let fly with such energy that the examiner fell in fragments to the ground. It was a scene of wild hilarity for even the teachers threw off their wanted heirs of decorum and entered into the spirit of the occasion, and to see severe Miss Mott throwing for coconuts and fat little frown line hopping across the lawn were by no means the least entertaining items in the program. Rhoda sat enthroned on her rose wreath chair looking on at the revels, well content with idleness, since it was the badge of superiority. The pleasantest part of her duties was still to come, and the girls realized for what purpose the sixpence-ahead contribution had been levied by the game's captains as they saw the prizes which were awarded the successful competitors. No one in eleven penny frames this time, no trashy little sixpence three farthing ornaments, nor shilling boxes supplied with splinty pencils and spluttering pens, but handsome, valuable prizes which any girl might be proud to possess. Dorothy was presented with an umbrella with a silver handle. Another lucky winner received the most elegant of green leather purses, with what she rapturously described as squiggles of gold in the corners. Tom won a handsome writing case and a successful red, the daintiest little gold bangle with six seed pearls encircling a green stone, concerning the proper name of which it was possible to indulge in endless disputations. Rhoda was in her element distributing these gifts, and afterwards, in leading the way towards the pavilion which had been transformed into a veritable bower by the hands of willing workers, and in which were displayed a supply of the most luxurious refreshments. Miss Bruce had contributed generously towards the afternoon's entertainment, and as the girls sat about upon the grass and were weighted upon by the rose maidens, no one had need to sigh in vain for something nice. The choice of good things was quite bewildering, and little Hilary Jervis was reported to have reverted twice over from coffee to lemonade and to have eaten an ice cream and a ham sandwich and alternate bites. She was blissfully happy, however, and so was everyone else. And when at last Mistress June returned to her bark and the singer started the first notes of Good Night, two hundred voices took up the strain with a strength and precision which made the unrehearsed effect one of the most striking in the program. And so ended Rebels, the happiest day which many of the students were to know for long weeks to come. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George DeHorn Vasey this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Drawing Near A week after Rebels had taken place the very remembrance seemed to have floated away to an immeasurable distance and only wonder remained that any interest could have been felt on so trivial a subject. From morning to night and from night till morning the same incessant grind went on for of what rest was sleep when it opened the door for fresh torture as, for instance, when a Cambridge examiner condescended to the unfair expedient of kidnapping a candidate's wardrobe leaving her to decide between the alternative of staying at home or attending the examination room or tired in a robed ennui. On other occasions it appeared that by some unaccountable freak of memory one had forgotten about the examinations until the very hour had arrived and was running, running trying to overtake a train that would not stop not though one leapt rivers in scaled mountain heights a vain attempt to attract attention. It was really more restful to lie awake and study textbooks by the morning light which came so early in these summer days or so thought Rhoda as she sat up in bed and bent her aching head over her task. Her head was always aching nowadays while occasionally there came a sharp, stabbing pain in the eyes which seemed to say that they too were inclined to rebel. It was tiresome but she had no time to attend them now it was not likely that she was going to draw back because of a little pain and physical weakness. She never complained but amidst all the bustle of preparation the teachers kept a keen eye on their pupils and Rhoda found more than one task mysteriously lightened no remark was made but Miss Mott reduced to the amount of preparation Miss Bruce sent an invitation to tea which involved an idle hour and shortcomings were passed over with wonderful forbearance only Miss Everett croaked and dearly as she loved her Rhoda was glad to keep out of Miss Everett's way just now it was unpleasant to be stared at by eyes like gimlets to be asked if one's head ached and warned gravely of the dangers of overwork When I went up for the Cambridge senior began Miss Everett and the girl straightened herself defiantly on the outlook for sermons When I went up for the Cambridge senior I was not at school like you but studying at home with a tutor my sister was delicate so an old college friend of my father's came to us for three hours a day he was delightful every prince of teachers and we had such happy times for he entered into all our interests and treated our opinions with as much respect as if we had been men like himself I remember disputing the axioms of political economy and arguing that a demand for commodities must be a demand for labor and the delight with which he threw back his head and laughed whenever I seemed to score a point instead of snubbing me and thinking it ridiculous that I should presume to dispute accepted truths he welcomed every sign of independent thought and there we would sit arguing away two girls of fifteen and sixteen and the grey-headed man as seriously as if history depended on our decision Later on when I was going in for the examination I joined some of his afternoon classes at a school nearby so that I could work up the subjects with other candidates there was one girl in the class called Mary McGregor a plain unassuming little creature who seemed to most ordinary in every way when I first saw her I remember pitying her because she looked so dull and commonplace my dear, she had a brain like an encyclopedia simply crammed with knowledge and what went in one ear stayed there for good and never by chance got mislaid you may think how clever she was when I tell you that she passed first in all England with distinction in every subject that she took she won scholarships and honors and went up to Gerton and had posts offered to her right and left and practically established herself for life well, to go back a long way to the week before the Cambridge we had preliminary examinations at school and had worked so hard that we were perfectly dazed and muddled then one day, Magister, as we called him marched into the room to read the result of the arithmetic paper I can see him now standing up with the lists in his hands and all the girls' faces turned towards him then he began to read total number of marks, 100 Kate Evans, 89 Sybil Bruce, 82 Hilda Green, 71 so on and so on down and down and down until it came to 30s and 20s and still no mention of Mary or of me the girls' faces were studied to behold as for the Magister he put on the most exaggerated expression of horror and just hissed out the last few words Laura Everett, 12 Mary McGregor, 10 we sat dumb petrified frozen with dismay and then suddenly he banged his book on the table and called out no more lessons, no more work I forbid any girl to open a book again before Monday morning off you go and give your brains a rest if you don't wish to disgrace yourselves and me give my compliments to your mothers and say I wish you all to be taken to the circus this evening he nodded at us quite cheerfully and marched out of the room there and then leaving us to pack up our books and go home Mary and I cried a little I remember in a feeble, helpless sort of way but we were too tired to care very much I slept like a log all the afternoon and went to the circus at night and the next day I skated and on Saturday spent the day in town buying Christmas presents and by Monday I was quite brisk again and my mind is clear as ever I have often thought how differently that examination might have turned out for Mary and for me if we had had a less wise teacher who had worked himself into a panic of alarm and made us work harder than ever instead of stopping altogether I am convinced that it was only those few days of rest which saved me there cried Rhoda irritably I knew it I knew there was a moral I knew perfectly well the moment you began that it was a roundabout way of preaching to me if I am to have a sermon I would rather have it straight out not wrapped up in jam like a powder I suppose you think my brain is getting muddled but it would go all together if I tried to do nothing but lays about I should go stark staring mad I must say, Evie, you talk in a very strange way for a teacher and are not at all encouraging I don't think you care a bit whether I get the scholarship or not Yes, I do I hope very much that you will not wait a moment now I am very fond of you, Rhoda and I hope with all my heart that you will pass and pass well I shall be bitterly disappointed if you don't but I want Kathleen to get the scholarship she needs it and you don't it means far, far more to her than you can even understand in one way, perhaps, not another she wants the money which she could have in any case but she is not half so keen as I am for the honor itself and, after all, that's the first thing I can't do anything in a half and half way and now that I have taken up examinations I'm just burning to distinguish myself it would be a perfect bliss the height of my ambition to come out first here and go up to Oxford and take honors and have letters after one's name and be a distinguished scholar written about in the papers and magazines like, like, yes like Miss Mott, for instance what then? Rhoda stood still in the middle of her tirade and stared at the speaker with startled eyes Miss Mott? no, indeed, she had met nobody in the least like Miss Mott the very mention of the name was like a cold douche on her enthusiasm the creature of her dream was gowned and capped and moved radiant through an atmosphere of applause Miss Mott was a commonplace, hardworking teacher with an air of chronic exhaustion when one looked across the dining room and saw her face among those of the girls it looked bleached and gray the face of a tired, worn woman the idea of working and slaving all one's use to be like Miss Mott Rhoda exclaimed contemptuously but Miss Everett insisted on her position Miss Mott is a capital example you could not have a better she was the first student of her year and carried everything before her her position here is one of the best of its kind for she is practically headmistress she would tell you herself that she never expected to do so well I think it's very mean of you Evie to quash me so it's most discouraging I don't want to be the least like Miss Mott and you know it perfectly well it's no use talking for we can't agree and really and truly you are the most unsympathetic to me just now Miss Everett looked at her steadily with a long tender gaze I seem so Rhoda I know I do but it is only seeming in reality I'm just longing to help you but as you say you think one thing and I think another so we are at cross purposes come and spend Sunday afternoon with me and my Dan dear and I'll promise not to preach I'll make you so comfy and show you all my photographs and pretty things and lay in a stock of fruit and cakes do it will do you good but Rhoda hesitated longing yet fearing I'd love it it would be splendid but there's my scripture I want to cram it up a little more and Sunday afternoon is the only chance I'm afraid I can't until after the exam Evie dear I need the time a willful lass must have her way quoted Miss Everett with a sigh and that was the last attempt which she made to rescue Rhoda from the result of her own rash folly henceforth to the end the girl worked unmolested drawing the invariable list from her pocket at every odd moment and gabbling in ceaseless repetition nerved to more feverish energy by the discovery that her brain moved so slowly that it took twice as long as of yore to master the simplest details she felt irritable and peevish disposed to tears on the slightest provocation and tired all over back and limbs aching head smarting eyes weary dissatisfied heart did every ambition of life end like this did it always happen that when the loins were girded to run a race depression fell like a fetter and the question tortured is it worthwhile is it worthwhile what was the right motive of which Evie had spoken what was the vickers meaning of success they at least seemed to have found contentment as a result of their struggles Rhoda groped in the dark but found no light for the door was barred by the giant self-will End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George D. Horn-Vezy this LibriVox recording is in the public domain The Examination 4 o'clock on the morning of Examination Monday the clock on the wall chimed the hour and Rhoda awoke with a start up wearily in bed the pale gray light already filled the room and the birds clamored tumultuously in the trees outside three hours before the gong rang the last the very last chance of preparing for the fray she slipped noiselessly out of bed sponged her face with cold water seized the odocolone in one hand the pile of books in the other and settled herself against a background of cushions there was silence in the room broken only by fitful cries from Dorothy who was given to discoursing in her sleep and more than once in the course of the first half hour Rhoda's own eyes glazed over and the lids fell nature was pleading for her rights but each lapse was sternly overcome and presently nerves and brain were fully awake and battling with their task she learned by heart passages marked as likely to be useful searched to and fro for answers still unknown and worked out imaginary calculations one thing was no sooner begun than she recalled another which needed attention and so on it went from arithmetic to Shakespeare from Shakespeare to history from history to Latin back and forward back and forward until her head was in a whirl the clock struck six the girl in the next cubicle murmured sleepily such a noise, something wrestling and Rhoda held her breath in dismay her haste in turning over the leaves had nearly brought about discovery but henceforth she moved with caution from place to place with wary fingers her back ached despite the supporting cushions and her head swam but she struggled on until it last the roll of the gong sounded through the house and the girls awoke with yawns and groans of remembrance Black Monday, oh, oh, I wish I'd never been born misery me and I was having such a lovely dream all about holidays and picnics and walks on the sands I've had the most awful night doing sums all the time with the examiner looking over my shoulder my head is like a jelly then Tom's voice arose in derisive accents Happy Tom, who was well through her June matric and could afford to chaff the poor victims would any young lady like to explain to me how to find the resultant of a system of parallel forces Tom, you're a brutal be quiet this moment or we'll come and make you ha ha ha ha Rhoda, love, just give me the substance of King Richard's speech to Northumberland when the latter announced that he was to be removed to Palm Fret Rhoda began to apply but stopped abruptly for on rising from bed she was attacked by a strange giddiness and lay back against the pillows trembling with cold and nausea her hands shook as she uncorked the otocolone and the scent so far from being reviving made her shudder afresh she dressed with difficulty sitting down at frequent intervals and growing colder and colder with each exertion so that when she emerged from her cubicle her pallid face roused Tom's instant attention Rhoda, you are ill, she cried her chaffing manner changing at once as she realized the seriousness of the occasion what's the matter, didn't you sleep let me feel your hand goodness what a frog you had better lie down and let me send for nurse no, thank you Tom, please it's only excitement I shall be better after breakfast please, please don't make a fuss huh, said Tom shortly just as you like if you feel yourself going move down and pretend to fasten your shoe and give a scrub to your cheeks before passing Miss Bruce she'll spot you in a moment if you go in with a face like that thus adjured Rhoda scrubbed her cheeks all the way downstairs and looked so rosy as she passed the principal that the good lady felt much relieved she had had some anxious thoughts about Rhoda Chester of late and was only too glad to feel that her anxiety had been needless but alas three times over during breakfast did Rhoda stoop down to button her shoe and in vain did her companions press food upon her a sumptuous breakfast had been served in honor of the occasion but ham and eggs seemed just the last things in the world that she wanted to eat while the sight of fried fish took away the last remnant of appetite she drank her tea trying to laugh with the rest and to take no notice of the swaying movement with which the walls whirled round from time to time or of the extraordinary distance from which the girl's voices sounded in her ears she's game, she's real game said Tom to herself watching the set face with her sharp little eyes but she's uncommon bad all the same all put Evie on her track so Miss Everett's attention was duly called to the condition of her pupil and Rhoda was dosed with sal volatil and provided with smelling salts to keep in her pocket not a word of reproach was spoken and Evie indeed appeared to treat the indisposition as quite an orthodox thing under the circumstances so affectionate was she so kind and cheery and so thoughtful were the girls and giving up the best seats in the omnibus and train and in offering supporting arms along platforms that Rhoda felt inclined to cry with mingled gratitude and remorse when the hall was reached in which the examination was to be held she had yet another dose of sal volatil as a preparation for the ordeal of the erythmetical paper and then gathering up pens and pencils marched slowly into the dreaded room it was shaped like an amphitheater with a railed in platform at one side and sloping seats descending all around it's like the operating theatre is a hospital oh my and don't I feel as if I were going to be cut up too grown dorthy as she fouled along in front of a seat looking for her place at a distance of every two or three yards the desks were marked with a number in front of which was a supply of blotting and writing paper some of the candidates made out their own number at once others went roaming helplessly about and Rhoda found herself perched in the furthest corner far from her companions she looked across and received dorthy's smiling nod but Kathleen's face was set in stern anxiety and the others were too busy arranging papers to remember her existence the examiner in cap and gown stood on the platform talking to the lady secretary of the centre she made a remark and he smiled and said something in reply at which they both laughed audibly it shocked Rhoda in much the same ways it would have done to hear a chief mourner laugh at a funeral such levity was most unseemly yet on the other hand the pictures on the walls were surely unnecessarily depressing they were oil-coloured portraits of departed worthies at that gloomy stage of decay when frame, figure and background have acquired the same dirty hue and the paint is cracked in a hundred broken lines one old gentleman, the ugliest of all faced Rhoda as she sat and stared at her with a mocking gaze which seemed to say you think you are going to pass an arithmetic do you? wait until you see the paper you'll be surprised there was a relief to turn to the paper itself and know the worst which seemed very bad indeed she glanced from question to question feeling despair deepen at the sight of such phrases as simplify the expression debenture stock at 140 and 1 eighth at what rate percent etc etc in the present condition of mind and body it was an effort to recall the multiplication table not to speak of difficult and elaborate calculations poor Rhoda she dipped her pen into the ink and wrote the headline to her paper hesitated for a moment added question A and then it seemed as if she could do no more the figures danced before her eyes her knees shook her hands were so petrified with cold that she clasped them together to restore some feeling of warmth and the faintness of an hour ago seemed creeping on once more she leaned her elbows on the desk bowed her hands in her head and remained emotionless for ten minutes on end the other girls would think that she was studying the paper and deciding what question she could best answer but in reality she was fighting the hardest battle of her life a battle between the flesh which said give in say you were too ill think what bliss it would be to lie down and have nothing to do and the will which declared no never I must and shall go on brain hands eyes you are my servants I will not let you fail in the end Will conquered and Rhoda raised her face pale to the lips but with determination written on every feature the girl next to herself had covered half the sheet with figures and was ruling two neat little lines which showed that question A was satisfactorily settled all over the room the girls were scribbling away, alert and busy there was plainly no time to be wasted and Rhoda began slowly to puzzle out the easiest problem the answer seemed inappropriate she tried again with a different result a third time with a third result then the firm lips set and she began doggedly the fourth time over to her relief this answer was the same as number two so it was copied out without delay and the next puzzle begun and the next and the next oh the weariness of those two hours the struggle against weakness the moments of despair when memory refused to work and the simplest facts evaded her grasp nobody ever knew all that it meant and as she had the presence of mind to tear up her blotting paper no examining eyes were shocked by the sight of the expedience to which a senior candidate had been reduced in order to discover the total of six multiplied by six or eight plus eleven there were other moments however when the brain cleared for intelligent work more faintness came on again and at the end she could announce to her companions that she had answered nine out of the twelve questions what did you get for the square root inquired Kathleen anxiously Irene's answer was different from mine but I did think I was right I went over it twice the girls were all surging together in the anti-room sharing answers and referring eagerly to Irene who read aloud her own list with the self-satisfied air those whose numbers agreed with hers announced the fact with whoops of joy those who had differed knitted their brows and were silent Kathleen looked worried and anxious and could not think what she had been about to get that decimal wrong but it was horrible wasn't it the worst we've had wallpaper was vile cried another voice indignantly too sure wallpaper they might have a little originality and think of something else I longed to give Tom's answer it wasn't really difficult but tricky decidedly tricky said Irene with an air she could afford to be superior for there was no doubt that she had passed and passed well the square route was absurdly easy then her eye fell on Rhoda and she asked kindly enough what did you make it Rhoda I hope you got on alright and feel better thanks yes but I didn't put down my answers I really can't remember what they were and a good thing too you've done your best so don't worry over it anymore but come along to lunch cried Miss Everett cheerly the girls obeyed with willing haste for it was one of the treats of examination time to lunch in a restaurant and be allowed to order what one chose Rhoda was so much relieved by the walk and the joy of knowing the ordeal over that she was able to eat a morsel of chicken but the fascinations of jam puffs had departed for the time being and she could even look unmoved at the spectacle of a dozen strawberry ices in a row if every candidate indulges in an ice a day stayed accurately the number of bushels of fruit began Dorothy with her mouth full of vanilla biscuit but she was promptly elbowed into silence no one being in the mood for further calculations just then for the next four days the examination dragged its weary course and Rhoda was carefully nursed and coddled so as to be able to stand the strain she was sent to bed immediately on her return from the train was not allowed to rise again until eight o'clock was dosed with the nurse's pet tonic and with bovril and sandwiches between the papers and for once she was sufficiently conscious of past errors to acknowledge that nature could not be defied and to attempt no more four o'clock preparation classes on the whole she got through fairly well growing stronger each day feeling occasional bursts of exaltation at the conclusion of a paper which might have been written especially for her benefit what rapture to be questioned about those very rules in French grammar which one had rubbed up the week before to have pet passages selected from Shakespeare and find the Latin prose for translation become gradually intelligible as one telling substantive gave clue to the whole once assured of the meaning it was easy to pick out the words skimming lightly over difficult phrases but making a great show of accuracy when opportunity arose as to the elegance of the translation from English into Latin the less said the better but even with the realization of its shortcomings Rhoda was hopeful of the result they will say she doesn't know much poor thing but she has worked hard and deserves to pass the summer is good and she has mastered the books certainly she has enough marks to pass I think I've done fairly well in Latin she told Miss Mott on her return and that severe lady actually smiled and said graciously I hope you have you've certainly worked with a will Miss Bruce however was not nearly so encouraging and her last interview with her pupil was somewhat in the nature of a cold douche now that the week is over Rhoda she said I must tell you that I have felt a good deal of anxiety on your account which I would not willingly have repeated there is a strain about examinations which some girls feel more than others the head of your house for instance Thomasine and Boulderston is a capital subject it seems able to hit the happy medium between working hard and overworking but you appear to suffer physically from the strain I thought you seemed ill even before the breakdown on Monday and I fear your parents will be far from satisfied with your looks in the case of a girl who is preparing to earn her livelihood and to whom certificates are all important one must take all reasonable precautions and then face the risk but with you it is different you are the only daughter of wealthy parents and as in all probability you will never need to work for yourself it would be wiser to content yourself with taking the ordinary school course and leaving examinations alone I shall feel at my duty to acquaint your mother with my opinions and to advise Rhoda gave a gasp of dismay and stared at her with horrified eyes you will forbid me to go in for any more exams you won't allow me to try again the principal smiled slightly that is perhaps overstating the case the final decision must of course rest with your parents if in opposition to my advice they should still desire but Rhoda heard no more the idea that her father and mother should wish her to go in for any work which interfered with health was so impossible to conceive that it might as well be dismissed at once with one fell crash her castle in the air had fallen to the ground and lay in ruins at her feet if she had not done well this time farewell forever to her dreams of distinction for no other opportunity would be granted for the first half of the holidays the thought weighed upon her with depressing force but gradually his health improved the outlook lightened also and she began to pose to herself in a new light if she passed well and despite her illness she looked back on most of the papers with a feeling of complacency if she won the scholarship or even gained distinction her reputation among her classmates would be to a certain extent established and the fact that the delicate nature of her nervous system debarred her from further efforts would entitle her to attribute a peculiar sympathy when other girls succeeded their companions would shake their heads and whisper among themselves if Rhoda could only a good thing for her that Rhoda et cetera et cetera in imagination she could hear the remarks and her face unconsciously assumed the expression of meek endurance with which she would listen and so more and more did the result of that week's work fill the horizon of her life she thought of it day by day and dreamt of it by night she talked of it to Ella until even that patient listener wearied of the theme she counted the weeks, the days the hours until the report should arrive and then one morning halfway through breakfast Mr. Chester looked up from his eggs and bacon and remarked casually as if it were an ordinary commonplace subject and not an affair of life and death by the way Rhoda there is something about your examination in the paper today I noticed the heading you may like to see it Rhoda leaned back in her chair and held out her hand in dumb and greedy the newspaper was open at the right page and her eye fell at once on the familiar heading and underneath a long list of numbers End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 The momentthan Third Class it was not there Rhoda gave a little gulp and began again from the very beginning she had been too quick too eager It was so easy to miss a number. One by one she conned them over, but it was not there. The long pass list lay below, and she looked at it with dreary indifference. To scramble through with the rabble was a sorry attainment, or it seemed so for one moment, but at the next it became suddenly a wild impossible dream for— the number was not there. No fear of overlooking this time, for the figures stood out as it printed in fire and burned themselves into her brain. The number was not in the first class, nor the second, nor the third. It was not in the pass list. It was not mentioned at all. If she had ever permitted herself to anticipate such a situation, which she had not, Rhoda would have pictured herself flying into a paroxysm of despair, but in reality she felt icy cold, and it was in a tone almost of indifference that she announced, I am plucked. I have not passed at all. Never mind, dear, you did your best, and the work matters more than the result. Very uncertain tests, these examinations. I never cared about them, said her father kindly, and Mrs. Chester smiled in her usual placid fashion and murmured, Oh, I expect it's a mistake. It's so easy to make a mistake in printing figures. You'll find it's all right, darling, later on. Have some jam. They were absolutely placid, absolutely calm, absolutely unconscious of the storm of emotion, raging beneath that quiet exterior, but Harold glanced at his sister with the handsome eyes, which looked so sleepy but which were in reality so remarkably wide awake and said, Slowly, I think Rhoda has finished, Mother. You don't want any jam, do you, Row? Come into the garden with me instead. I want a stroll. He walked out through the French window and Rhoda followed with much the same feeling of relief as that with which a captive escapes from the prison, which seems to be on the point of suffocating him mentally and physically. Brother and sister paced in silence down the path, leading to the rose garden. Harold was full of sympathy, but manlike, found it difficult to put his thoughts into words, and Rhoda, after all, was the first to speak. She stopped suddenly in the middle of the path and confronted him with shining eyes. Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. Harold, I have failed. I am plucked. I have not passed at all. Not even a common pass. No, I'm uncommonly sorry, but do you realize it? Do you understand what it means? I think I do, but I don't. If I did, I should not be here talking quietly to you. I should go mad. I should want to kill myself. I should be desperate. Don't be silly now, Roe. It's a big disappointment, and I'm sorry for you, but it's not a bit of use working yourself into hysterics. Face the thing quietly and see all that it means. It means a good deal, Harold. More than you can understand. I think I'd rather be alone, please. You're very kind, but I can't stand consolation just yet. I'll sit in the arbor. Just as you please, I don't want to force myself, but I'd like to help you, old girl. Is there nothing else I can do? Yes, keep mother away. Don't let her come near me until lunch. I am best left alone, and she doesn't understand. No one understands except those who have been at school and know how hard the girl's voice trembled and broke off suddenly. And she walked away in the direction of the summer house, while Harold thrust his hands into his pockets and kicked the pebbles on the gravel path. He was very fond of his impetuous young sister and the quivering sob which had strangled her last word echoed painfully in his ears. He realized, as neither father nor mother could do, what such a failure meant to a proud, ambitious girl, and how far reaching would be its consequences. It was not today nor tomorrow that would exhaust this trouble. The bitterest part was yet to come when she returned to school and received the condolences of her more successful companions, when she sat apart and saw them receive their reward. Harold longed to be able to help, but there was nothing to do but persuade his parents to leave the girl alone and to return at intervals to satisfy himself that she was still in her retreat and not attempting to drown her sorrows in the lake. Three times over he paced the path and saw the white-robed figure sitting immovable with elbows planted on the table and falling locks hiding the face from view. So still she sat that he retired silently, hoping that she had fallen asleep. But on the fourth visit he was no longer alone, but accompanied by a graceful, girlish figure, and they did not halt until they stood on the very threshold of the arbor itself. Rota, he cried, then, look up, I have brought someone to you. Someone you will be glad to see. The flaxen mane was tossed back and a flush face raised in protest. I don't, began Rota, and then suddenly sprang to her feet and stretched out her arms. Oh, Evie! Evie, you've come, oh, I wanted you, I wanted you so badly. Miss Everett stepped forward and drew the girl to her side, and Harold waited just long enough to see the fair head and the dark nestle together, then took himself off to the house, satisfied that comfort had come at last. I have failed, Evie, cried Rota, clasping her friend's hands and staring at her with the same expression of incredulous horror with which she had confronted her brother a couple of hours earlier. Yes, darling, I know. And what are you going to say to me, then? Nothing, I think, for the moment, but that I love you dearly, and felt that I must come to be with you. Aren't you surprised to see me, Rota? No, I don't think so. I don't feel anything. I wanted you, and then there you were. It seemed quite natural. But it was rather peculiar, all the same. I missed staying with Tom, and we were both asked, down to D, for a four-days visit. That is only half an hour's rail from here, as you know. So this morning, when I saw the list in the paper, I thought at once, I must see Rota. I will go down and chance finding her at home. Yes. So I came. And I'm so glad to be with you, dear. I've seen your mother, and it promised to stay for lunch. I need not go back until four o'clock. Oh, that's nice. I'd like to have you, Evie. I believe it was the arithmetic. I was so ill, I could hardly think. You might as well know all now. It was my own doing. I had been working every morning before getting up, and that day I began at four. I tired myself out before the gong rang. I guessed as much. Dorothy told me that she heard someone turning over leaves. Why don't you say I told you so, then, and tell me it's my own fault? I don't know. Perhaps because I do so many foolish things myself. Perhaps because I haven't the heart to scold you just now, you poor dear. Rota's face quivered. But she pressed her lips together and said with a gulp, I suppose it's a childish trouble. I suppose when I'm old and sensible, I shall look back on today and laugh to think how I worried myself over such an unimportant trial. I'm sure you will do nothing of the kind. You will be very, very sorry for yourself, and very pitiful and very proud, too, if you can remember that you bore it bravely and uncomplainingly. But I can't. I can't bear it at all. It gets worse every moment. I keep remembering things that I had forgotten. Miss Bruce preaching and Miss Mott staring through her spectacles. The girls all saying their sorry and the record wall, where I wanted to see my name. I can't bear it. It's no use. But you will have to bear it, Rota. It is a fact, and nothing that you can do will alter it now. You will have to bear it. But you can bear it in two ways as you make up your mind today. You can cry and fret and make yourself ill and everyone else miserable. Or you can brace yourself up to bear it bravely and make everyone love and admire you more than they have ever done before. Which are you going to do? I'm going to be cross and horrid. I couldn't be good if I tried. I'm soured for life, said Rota stoutly. But even as she spoke, a smile struggled with her tears, and Evie laughed aloud, her sweet ringing laugh. Poor dear old thing. She looks so like it. I know better, and am not a bit afraid of you. You will be good and plucky and rejoice unaffectively in Kathleen's success. Has Kathleen? Oh, is Kathleen first? She has won the scholarship. Yes, it will be such a joy. She needed it so badly and has worked so hard. I hate her. She was always kind to you. I remember the very first day she took you round the grounds. You were very good friends. I hate her, I tell you. I detest her name. I'm sure you will write and congratulate her. Imagine if your parents were poor, and you saw them harassed and anxious. How thankful you would feel to be able to help. Kathleen had a harder time than any of you, for she could take none of the nice, interesting extras. I think all her friends will be glad that she is one. I shall be glad too, in about ten years. If I said I was glad now, I should be a hypocrite, for I wanted it myself. I suppose Irene is all right and birth and all the head girls has, has Dorothy. Yes, Dorothy has passed too. Wrote a cry to loud and bitter distress. Oh, Evie. Oh, Dorothy passed and I have failed. Oh, it is cruel, unjust. I am cleverer than she. You can't deny it. I worked harder. I was before her, always in every class, in every exam. Oh, it's mean. It's mean that they should have put her before me. The tears streamed down her face. For this was perhaps the bitterest moment she had known. To be beaten by Kathleen and Irene was bearable, but... Dorothy? Easygoing mediocre Dorothy, who had so little ambition that she could laugh at her own shortcomings and contentedly call herself a tortoise? Well, the tortoise had come off Victor once more, and the poor, beaten hair sat quivering with mortified grief. Miss Everett looked at her with perplexed, anxious eyes. You will probably find, when the full report comes out, that you have done better in most respects, but that it is the preliminaries which have caused your failure. But, Rhoda. Rhoda, how would it help you to know that another poor girl had failed, and was as miserable as yourself? Would you be glad to hear that Dorothy was sitting crying at home and Kathleen bearing her parents' grief as well as her own? You could not possibly be so selfish. I know you too well. You are far too kind and generous. I am a pig, said Rhoda contritely, and the tears trickled dismally off the end of her nose, and splashed onto the wooden table. I should like to be a saint and resigned, and rejoicing the good fortunes of my companions like the girls in books. But I can't. I just feel sore, and mad, and aching, and as if they were all in conspiracy against me, to make my failure more bitter. You'd better give it up, Evian, leave me to fight it out alone. I'll come to my senses in time, and write pretty gushing letters to say how charmed I am, and make funny little jokes at the end about my own collapse. This is Monday, perhaps by Wednesday, or Thursday. I expect it will be Tuesday and not an hour later. You are letting off such an amount of steam that you will calm down more quickly than you think. And now, hadn't we better go indoors and bathe those poor red eyes before lunch? Your mother will think I've been scolding you, and I don't want to be looked upon as a dragon when I'm out of harness, and posing as an innocent, unprofessional visitor. Come, dear, and we'll talk no more of the horrid old exam. But try to forget it and enjoy ourselves. Rhoda's sigh was sepulchral in its intensity for, of course, happiness must henceforth be a thing of the past so far as she was concerned. But as she did not appreciate the idea of appearing at lunch with a tear-stained face, she followed meekly to the house, and entering by a side door led the way upstairs to her own luxurious bedroom. Half an hour of chastened enjoyment followed as she sat, sponging her eyes, while Evie strolled round the room, examining with admiration at the sight of each fresh treasure, and showing the keenest interest in the jugs and their histories. She admired Rhoda's possessions, and Rhoda admired her, watching the graceful figure reflected in the mirrors, the pretty dress, so simple, yet so becoming, the dark hair waving so softly round the winsome face. Evie was certainly one of the prettiest of creatures, and Rhoda felt a sort of reflected glory in taking her downstairs and exhibiting her to her family. If the tear-marks had not altogether disappeared, no one appeared to notice them, and, despite her own silence, lunch was a cheery meal. Evie chattered away in her gayest manner. Mrs. Chester agreed with every word she said, and called her dear, as if she were a friend of year standing. Mr. Chester beamed upon her with undisguised fatherly admiration, and Harold looked more animated than Rhoda had seen him for many a long day. The brisk, bright way in which Evie took up his drawing sentences, and put him right when he was mistaken in a statement, would have made him withdraw into his shell, as attempted by a member of the household. But he did not seem in the least annoyed by Evie. He only smiled to himself in amused fashion, and watched her narrowly out of the corners of his eyes. When dessert was put upon the table, Mrs. Chester looked wistfully at Rhoda's white face, lighted into a feeble smile by one of her friend's sallies, and was seized with a longing to keep this comforter at hand. I suppose he must go back to Dee this afternoon, dear, she said. But couldn't we persuade you to come back and pay us a visit? Before you leave this part of the world, it would be a great pleasure to Rhoda and to us all, and any time with Sudas just fix your own day, and— Oh, Evie do! cried Rhoda eagerly, and both the men joined in with murmurs of entreaty. But Miss Everett shook her head and said regretfully, I am so sorry, but it's impossible. I have already been away longer than I intended, and cannot spend another day away from home. My mother is busier than usual, for a sister who used to teach has had a bad illness, and is staying with us for six months, to rest and be nursed up. It would not be fair to stay away any longer. I should think you might be allowed to rest in your holidays. You work hard enough for the rest of the year, and I need you more than the old aunt. I'm sure I do. You must come, if only for a week. I wish I could, Rhoda, but it is not possible. I'll tell you, however, who I believe could come, and who would do you more good than I? And that is Tom Boulderstone. She's in no hurry to return home, and as it is decided that she is not to come back to Hearst Manor, but go straight on to Noonam, it will be your last opportunity of seeing her for some time. You would enjoy having Tom, wouldn't you, Rhoda? Rhoda lifted her eyebrows with a comical expression. Tom here? Tom in early chase? Tom sitting opposite to Harold and blinking at him, with her little fish eyes, the thought was so comical that she laughed in spite of herself. I should think I should. It would be very funny. If I may ask her, Mother. Of course, of course, darling, ask whom you will for as long as you like. cried the fond mother instantly. From what she had heard of Tom, she had come to the conclusion that she was a very strange and not entirely sane young woman. But Rhoda wished it. Rhoda had laughed at the suggestion, and said it would be funny, and that settled the question. A letter of invitation was duly written, and given unto Miss Everett's hand. When the time came for departure, and brother and sister escorted her to the station. Rhoda was insistent in her regrets at parting, and wonderful to relate Harold condescended to make still another plea. If it were impossible to arrange a visit, could not Miss Everett spare a few hours at least, come down by an early train, and spend a day on the river with himself and his sister? He urged the project so warmly that Evie flushed, with mingled pleasure and embarrassment. Don't tempt me. I should love it, but we are here only for four days, and I've been away for one already. It would not be courteous. She is so horribly conscientious. That's the worst of her, said Rhoda, as she and Harold retraced their steps across the park. She's always thinking about other people. A day on the river would have been lovely. Yes, it's a pity I thought we would ask Ella, and take up lunch and tea. Yes, of course. A very good idea. Then we should have been four, and I could have had Evie to myself. Yes! strolled Harold slowly. Two minutes later Rhoda happened to look at his face, and wondered why in the world he was smiling to himself in that funny, amused fashion. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of Tom and Some Other Girls by Mrs. George D. Horn-Veisy This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tom arrives. Tom wrote by return to state that she considered Rhoda a brick for sending her such a ripping invitation, that it would be great sport to see her at home, and that she would arrive by the twelve o'clock train on the next Monday. She isn't pretty, Rhoda explained anxiously to Harold, the fastidious. In fact, she's plain. Very plain indeed. I'm afraid you won't like her, but she likes you. She saw you on the platform at Houston, and said you were a beautiful young man, and that she was brokenhearted that she couldn't stay to make your acquaintance. Good taste, evidently, though unattractive, said Harold, smiling. I'm sorry she's not good looking, but it can't be helped. No doubt she makes up for it in moral worth. Well, she does. That's perfectly true. I loathed and detested her at first, but I'm devoted to her now. She's just and kind and awfully clever, and so funny that you simply can't be in low spirits when she's about. All the girls adore her, but you won't. She says herself that men can't appreciate her, so she's going to devote her life to women out of revenge. Men never care for women unless they are pretty and taking. cried Rhoda with an air, and Harold protested sententiously. I'm the exception to the rule. I look beyond the mere exterior to the nobility of character, which lies behind. Dear Tom's lack of beauty is nothing to me. I am prepared for it, and shall suffer no disillusion. He changed his mind, however, when at the appointed time Dear Tom arrived and stepped from the carriage onto the platform of the little station. When his eye first fell upon her in response to Rhoda's excited, there she is. He felt a momentary dizzy conviction that there must be a mistake. This extraordinary apparition could never be his sister's friend, but, yes, it was, even so, for already the girls were greeting each other and glancing expectantly in his direction. He went through the introduction with immovable countenance, saw the two friends comfortably seated in the pony carriage, and called to mind a message in the village which would prevent him, from joining them as he had intended. He required a few minutes breathing time to recover his self-possession. And the girls drove off alone, not at all sorry, if the truth were told, to be deprived of his company. Well, fuzzy, cried Tom. Well, Tom, cried Rhoda, and stared with wondering eyes at the unaccustomed grandeur of her friends attire. Thomasina had done honor to the occasion by putting on her very best coat and skirt of a shade of fawn accurately matching her complexion, while on her head was perched that garment unknown at herst, a trimmed hat. Fawn straw, fawn wings, sticking out at right angles, bows of fawn-colored ribbon wired into ferocious stiffness, such was the work of art. And complacent indeed, with the smile of its owner as she met her companion scrutiny. Got them all on, haven't I? she inquired genially. Must do honor to the occasion you know, and here's yourself all blowing oligrowing, looking fresh as a daisy in your grand white clothes. Indeed, then, I feel nothing of the kind, or it must be a very dejected daisy. You've heard the news, of course, and know that I am... Plucked, concluded Tom, pronouncing the awful word without a quiver. Yes, thought you would be. You were so cheap that arithmetic morning you can't do sums when you were on the point of fainting every second minute. Very good results on the whole. Yes, but isn't it awful for me? Don't you pity me? I never in my life had such a blow. Bit of a jar, certainly, but it's over now and can't be helped. No use whining, said Tom, calmly, and Rhoda gave a little jump in her seat. After all, can any one minister to a youthful sufferer like a friend of her own age? Tom's remarks would hardly have been considered comforting by an outsider. Yet, by one short word, she had helped Rhoda more than any elderly comforter had been able to do. It was interesting and praiseworthy to grieve over such a disappointment as she had experienced, to be sorrowful, even heartbroken. But to whine? That put an entirely different aspect on her grief. To whine was feeble, childish, and undignified, a thing to which no self-respecting girl could stoop. As Rhoda recalled her tears and repinings, a flush of shame came to her cheeks, and she resolved that whatever she might have to suffer in the future, she would at least keep it to herself and not proclaim her trouble on the house tops. When the chase was reached, Tom was taken into the drawing-room and introduced to Mrs. Chester, who poured out tea in unusual silence, glancing a scant at the fawn-colored visitor who sat bolt upright on her chair, nibbling at her cake with a propriety which was as disconcerting to the kindly hostess as it was apparently diverting to her daughter. Rhoda had been accustomed to see Tom play a hundred sly tricks over this sociable meal, a favorite one being to balance a large morsel on the back of her right hand, and within a droid little tap from the left, send it flying into the mouth stretched wide to receive it, and it tickled her immensely to witness this sudden fit of decorum. She sat and chuckled, and Mrs. Chester sat and wondered, until Tom politely declined a third cup of tea, and was dragged into the garden within treaties to behave properly and be a little like herself. I thought I was charming, she declared. I tried to copy Evie and look exactly as she does when she is doing the agreeable. Didn't you notice the smile, and I didn't stare a bit? Though I was longing to all the time, you do live in marble halls, fuzzy, and no mistake. We could get the whole of our little crib into that one room, and we don't go in for any ornaments or philals. A comfortable bed to sleep in and lots of books, that's all my old dad and I trouble about. Rhoda thought of the dismal little study at Hearst Manor with the broken chairs, and the gloves on the chimney piece and could quite imagine the kind of home from which the owner came. But she murmured little incredulities as in politeness bound as she led the way in the direction best calculated to impress a stranger. Tom did not pay much attention to the grounds themselves, but she raved over the horses, and made friends with all the dogs even old lion, the calf-like mastiff, who is kept chained up in the stable yard because of his violent antipathy to strangers. When he beheld this daring young woman walking up to his very side, and making affectionate overtures for his favour, he showed his teeth in an alarming scowl. But next moment he changed his mind, and presently Tom was pinching and punching and stroking his ears with the ease of an old acquaintance. I've never met the dog yet that I couldn't master, she announced proudly. That old fellow would follow me all round the grounds as meekly as a lamb if he had the chance. We won't try him, thank you. He might meet a messenger boy en route, and we should have to pay the damages. Come along now, and I will show you. But at this opportune moment Harold came into view, sauntering round the corner of the stable, and Rhoda called to him eagerly, glad to be able to impress him with a sense of Tom's powers. Harold, look here! See what friends Tom has made with Lion already? He lets her do anything that she likes, isn't it wonderful? By Jove, exclaimed Harold, and looked unaffectedly surprised to see his gruff old friends submitting meekly to the stranger's advances. "'Taste Stiffer,' was the mental comment, but aloud he said swively. Lion is a good judge of character. He knows when he has found a friend. Yes, they all recognize me. I was a bulldog in my last incarnation,' said Tom calmly. And by some extraordinary power which she possessed of drawing her mobile features into any shape which she chose, certain it is that she looked marvelously like a bulldog at that moment. Twinkling eyes set far apart, heavy mouth, small, impertinent nose, all complete. Harold was so taken aback that he did not know what to say. But Rhoda dragged laughingly at her friend's arm and cried, "'Come along, come along. It will soon be time to go indoors and dress for dinner. And we haven't done half-hour round. I was going to take Tom to the links, Harold. She is a great golfer and will be interested in seeing them. You'll come too, won't you?' "'With pleasure. They are just our own tame little links, Miss Boulderston, which we have faked up in the park. You won't think much of them if you are a player. But they give an opportunity for private practice. And we have some good sport there occasionally.' "'Oh yes, how many holes?' inquired Tom, sticking one thumb between the buttonholes of her coat, and tilting her head at him with such a business-like air that he felt embarrassed to be obliged to reply. Nine, with a little crossing about, some of the distances are very short, I'm afraid. Still, it has its points, and I played on larger links with less enjoyment. We will take a shortcut across here to the first hole. We start here, as you see, and a good full clique shot should land you on the green. There are only two holes, which really give a chance for a driver. Now you can see the second green, but it's not so easy a hole as it looks from here. For the grass is tusseky, and one almost always gets a bad lie for the approach. Yes, but why not drive for the green? Well, you see it's rather too far for a clique, and too short for a driver. Sometimes I try it with a brassy, but on the hole I think the clique is best. If you overdrive, you get into awful trouble, as you will see. So the course was gone over and explained, and Tom's eye was quick to see the possibilities, and note the dangers, nor did she hesitate sometimes to differ from Harold's tactics. Well, said he in conclusion, what do you think of them, rather sporting, aren't they? Yes, said Tom. That fifth hole is a little tricky, but I think they ought to be done in a, what's your record? Well, it varies, of course, I'm no pro, but I can get round in forty with luck. Forty, huh? Tom wheeled round on her heel and gazed from right to left with calculating eyes. Her lips moved noiselessly, and then she nodded her head and cried confidently, I'll take you, I'll play you tomorrow for the better man. Done, agreed Harold at once, but he straightened his shoulders as he spoke with a gesture which meant that he had no intention, if he knew it, of being beaten by a school girl, and his sister looked forward to the contest with very mingled feelings. If Tom lost it would be a distinct blow. Yet if Tom won, how Harold would dislike her? How hopeless it would be to look for any friendship between them after that. She was glad that the game would have to be deferred for a day, at least, for an evening spent in Tom's company must surely install her in public favor. When, however, she went to her friend's room to convey her downstairs to dinner, Rhoda's confidence was shaken, and she nearly exclaimed aloud in dismay at the apparition which she beheld. Tom, in full evening dress, was a vision which had been denied to hers to manner, but on the present occasion she had evidently determined to pay every honor to her hosts, and bony arms and neck emerged festively from a shot silk gown, which Rhoda felt convinced must have been a possession of the long deceased mother. What do you think of that? Tom cried proudly, rustling round to confront the newcomer, arms a Kimbo, and eyes twinkling with complacency. There's a natty get up. Quite a fashion play, didn't I? The very latest from Perry. You didn't expect to see anything like that, did you? I didn't, cried Rhoda truthfully enough, but Tom suspected no satire in her words, and taking up the handglass began twisting and turning before the mirror so as to get a view of her hair, which was no longer plated into a pigtail, but screwed into a knot the size of a walnut planted accurately in the middle of her head. I say, what do you think of my coiffure? Rhoda looked and burst into a shriek of laughter. Oh, Tom. That's it. I noticed there was something different but couldn't think what it was. Oh, no, no, Tom. You can't leave it like that. You must make it bigger. And wear it either high or low. It's too ridiculous, that little button, just in the very wrong place. Sit down for one moment and I'll arrange it for you. But Tom beat her off resolutely with the hairbrush. I won't. It's my own hair. And I like it this way. It's distingue. Not like every other woman you meet. Now that I've left school and am grown up, I must study lay covenals. And it's fatal to be commonplace. I may be prejudiced, but it seems to me that in this get-up I'm a striking figure. The beaming good humor of her smile, the utter absence of anything approaching envy or discontent, struck home to Rhoda's heart and silenced further protestations. She put her arm round Tom's waist, gave her an affectionate grip, wishing for perhaps the first time in her life that she herself had put on an older frock, so that the contrast between herself and her guests should be less marked in the eyes of the household. Alas, socially speaking, Tom was not a success. Mrs. Chester was plainly alarmed by her eccentricities. Mr. Chester did not know whether to take her in fun or in earnest. And Harold's Langer grew more and more pronounced. The very servants stared with astonishment at the peculiar guest, and when dinner was over, Rhoda, in despair, took Tom up to her own den to avoid the ordeal of an evening in the drawing-room. Once alone, with closed doors and no critical grown-ups to listen to their conversation, the hours sped away with lightning speed, while Tom told of her own plans, sympathized with Rhoda's ambition, and let fall words of wisdom, nonetheless valuable for being uttered in the most casual fashion. Every now and again the remembrance of her recent disappointment would send a stabbing pain through Rhoda's heart. But, as she had said, it was impossible to remain in low spirits in Tom's company, and if no one else enjoyed that lady's society, it was precious beyond words to her girl companion. The game of golf was played as arranged, but though Harold came off Victor, it was too close a contest to be agreeable to his vanity, or to increase his liking for his opponent, while Mr. Chester confided to his wife that he could not understand Rhoda's infatuation for such a remarkably unattractive companion. If it had been that sweet little miss Everett now, she might have stayed for a year and been welcome, but I confess I shall be glad when this girl takes her departure. She makes me quite nervous, sitting blanking at me with those little eyes. I have a sort of feeling that she is laughing to herself when she seems most serious. Oh, she could never laugh at you, dear. She couldn't be so audacious, declared Mrs. Chester fondly, but I can't bring myself to like her, and where her cleverness lies is a mystery to me, I never met a more ignorant girl. She can neither sew nor knit nor crochet, and the remarks she made in the market yesterday would have disgraced a child of ten. I pity the man who gets her for his wife. But, as we have seen, Thomas Siena had other ideas than matrimony for her own future. As she drove to the station by roadside, she fell into an unusual fit of silence, and emerging from it said slowly, I'm glad I've seen your home, Fuzzy, it's very beautiful and very happy. You're all so fond of one another and so nice and kind that it's a regular ideal family. I think you are a lucky girl. I like all your people very much, though they don't like me, wrote a exclaimed sharply. But Tom's smile was without a shadow of a fence, as she insisted. My dear, I know it. Don't purge it yourself for the sake of politeness. I'm sorry, but I'm accustomed to it. Strangers don't like me, and it's not a might of use trying to ingratiate myself. I did all I knew when I came here. I wore my best clothes. I tried to behave pridly, and you see, dead failure as usual. You needn't look doleful, for no doubt it's all for the best. If I were beautyous and fascinating I might be distracted from my work, whereas now I shall devote myself to it with every scrap of my strength. Girls love me and I love them, so I'll give up my life for their service. We have all our vocation, and it would be a happier world if everyone were as well satisfied as I am. In work, in work, in work always, let my young days be spent. Bother it. Here's the station already, and I haven't said half I wanted to. Nor I to you. It's hard to say goodbye and think of school without you. But you'll write to me won't you, Tom? You will promise to write regularly? Indeed I won't. Fifty odd girls implored me to write to them, and it's too big an order. No, my dear fuzz, I shall have no time to tell you how busy I am. Here we part, and we must leave it to fate or good fortune when we meet again. Bless you, my infant. Perk up, and be a credit to me. But, but how am I to know? How, how am I to hear what happens to you? I, I can't say goodbye and let you fade away completely as if we had never met. It's horrible. You must let me know. Look in the newspapers. You will see my doings recorded in the public press, replied Tom, as she skipped into the carriage. Rhoda looked on blankly, her heart sinking with a conviction that Tom did not care, that it was nothing for her to say goodbye, and part without a prospect of reunion. She was too proud to protest, but waving her hand, turned abruptly away and walked out of the station. The train lingered, however, and the temptation to take one more peep became too strong to be resisted. So she ran along the path for twenty or thirty yards, and peered cautiously through a gate, from which a side of the carriage in which her friend sat could be commanded. Tom had leaned back in her seat and flung her hat on one side. Her little eyes were red with tears, and she was mopping them assiduously with a ball-like pocket handkerchief. End of chapter 18.