Caps and Capers Part 3

"Young gentlemen, I hope you didn't hear the last remark made by my friend, Miss Osgood; at all events, you're not supposed to have done so; it would be embarra.s.sing for us all. But, since you did not, I'll say to her: Yes, you may have your candy frolic, and that is for her ears alone.

Now to you: The girls are to have a candy frolic Friday evening, and would be delighted to have your company."

It had all been said in Miss Preston's irresistibly funny way, and was greeted with shouts of laughter. Toinette and Cicely had learned something new. All now crowded about her urging her to accept some of their goodies, and, joining heartily in the spirit of good-comradeship, she took a sweetie from first one box and then another. Possibly another person, with a stricter regard for Mrs. Grundy's extremely refined sensibilities, might have hesitated to walk along the highways surrounded by half a dozen boys and girls, all chattering as hard as their tongues could wag, and munching cream-peppermints; but Miss Preston's motto was "Vis in ute," and, with the fine instinct so often wanting in those who have young characters to form, she looked upon the question from their side, feeling sure that sooner or later would arise questions which she would wish them to regard from hers; and therein lay the key-note of her success.

She would no more have thought of raising the barrier of teacher and pupil between herself and her girls than she would have thought of depriving them of something necessary to their physical welfare. The girls were her friends and she theirs--their best and truest, to whom they might come with their joys or their sorrows, sure of her sympathy with either, and, rather than cast a shadow upon their confidence, she would have toiled up the hill with the whole school swarming about her, and an express-wagon of sweets following close behind. That was the secret of her wonderful power over them. They never realized the disparity between their own ages and hers, because she had never forgotten when life was young.

CHAPTER VI

DULL AND PROSY

It is to be hoped that those who read this story will not run off with the idea that I am trying to set Miss Preston's school up as a model in every sense of the word, for I am not. I am simply trying to tell a story of boarding-school life as it really was "once upon a time." And I think that I ought to be able to tell it pretty correctly, having seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears many of the pranks related. The methods followed and the results obtained may be believed or not; that rests with the individual reading. Long ago, in my own childhood days, our "old Virginy" cook used to say to me: "La, chile, dey's a heap sight mo' flies ketched wid 'la.s.ses dan vingegar," and I have come to the conclusion that she had truth on her side.

The girls were by no means saints. Saints, after all, are rather ethereal creatures, and Miss Preston's girls were real flesh and blood la.s.sies, brimful of life and fun, and, like most la.s.sies, ready for a good time.

As Ruth had said, there were no rules; that is, the girls were never told that they must _not_ do this, or that they _must_ do the other thing. A spirit of courtesy dominated everything, and a subtle influence pervaded the entire school, bringing about desired results without words. The girls understood that all possible liberty would be granted them, and that their outgoings and incomings would be exactly such as would be allowed them in their own homes, and if some were inclined to abuse that liberty they soon learned where license began.

No school turned out better equipped girls, and none held a higher standard in college examinations. A Sunny Bank diploma was a sure pa.s.sport. When the girls worked they worked hard, and when playtime came it was enjoyed to the full. Naturally, with so many dispositions surrounding her, Miss Preston often in secret floundered in a "slough of despond," for that which could influence one girl for her good might prove a complete failure when brought to bear upon another. Never was the old adage, "What is one man's meat is another man's poison," more truly ill.u.s.trated.

But Miss Preston had a stanch friend, and trusted Him implicitly. Often, when perplexed and troubled, a half-hour's quiet talk with Him close shut behind her own door would give her wisdom and strength for the baffling question, and when she again appeared among them the girls wondered at her serene expression and winning smile, for in that half-hour's seclusion she had managed to remove all trace of the soil from the "slough," and, refreshed and strengthened by an unfailing help, could resume her "Pilgrimage."

She often said, in her quaint way: "The hardest work I have to do is to undo," and that was very true. Many times the home influence was of the worst possible sort for a young girl, or else there was just none at all.

Such girls were difficult subjects. Many had come from other schools, as in Toinette's case, where distrust seemed to be the key-note of the establishment, and then came Miss Preston's severest trials. The confidence of such girls must be won ere a step could be taken in the right direction. It was a rare exception when Miss Preston failed to win it.

"You feel such a nasty little bit of a crawling thing when you've done a mean thing to Miss Preston," a girl once said. "If she'd only give you a first-cla.s.s blowing up--for that's just what you know you deserve all the time--you could stand it, but she never does. She just puts her arm around you and looks straight through you with those soft gray eyes of hers, and never says one word. Then you begin to shrivel up, and you keep right on shriveling till you feel like Alice in Wonderland. You can't say boo, because _she_ hasn't, and when she gives you a soft little kiss on your forehead, and whispers so gently: Don't try to talk about it now, dear; just go and lock yourself in your room and have a quiet think, and I'm sure the kink will straighten out. I could lie flat on the floor and let her dance a hornpipe on me if she wanted to."

It was not to be expected that all the other teachers would display such remarkable tact as their princ.i.p.al, but her example went a long way.

Moreover, she was very careful in the choice of those in whose care her girls were to be given, and often said: "Neither schools nor colleges make teachers: it is G.o.d first, and mothers afterward." And she was not far wrong, for G.o.d must put love into the human heart, and mothers must shape the character. When I see a child playing with her dollies, I can form a pretty shrewd guess of the manner of woman that child's mother is.

Frolics and pranks of all sorts were by no means unknown in the school, and often they were funny enough, but what Miss Preston did not know about those frolics was not worth knowing. Her instructions to her teachers were: "Don't see _too much_. Unless there is danger of flood or fire, appendicitis or pneumonia, be blind."

Many of the girls had their own ponies and carriages, and drove about the beautiful suburbs of Montcliff. If the boys chose to hop up behind a trap and drive along, too, where was the harm? The very fact that it need not be concealed made it a matter of course. Friday evenings were always ones of exceptional liberty. Callers of both s.e.xes came, and the girls danced, had candy pulls, or any sort of impromptu fun. Once a year, usually in February, a dance was given, which was, of course, _the_ event of the season.

During the week the girls kept early hours, and at nine-thirty the house was, as a rule, en route for the "Land o' Nod," but exceptions came to prove the rule, and nothing was more liable to cause one than the arrival of a box from home. Upon such occasions the "fire, flood, appendicitis and pneumonia" hint held good.

CHAPTER VII

THE P. U. L.

"What upon earth are you doing!" exclaimed Toinette, as she opened Ruth's door, in response to the "come in" which followed her knock, and stood transfixed upon the threshold at the spectacle she beheld.

"Cleaning house, to be sure. Didn't you ever do it?"

"Well, not exactly that way," was Toinette's reply.

Ruth threw back her head and gave a merry peal of laughter.

"It _is_ rather a novel way, I will admit, but, you see, I hate to do things just exactly as everybody else does, so I sailed right in, head over ears. To tell the truth, now I'm in, I wish it wasn't _quite_ so deep," and Ruth cast a look strongly savoring of despair at the conglomeration surrounding her.

She was seated in the middle of the floor, and almost buried beneath the contents of every drawer and closet in the room. Not only her own, but Edith's belongings, too, had been dumped in a promiscuous heap on the floor, and such a sea of underclothing, stockings, shoes, dresses, waists, jackets, coats, hats, gloves, collars, ties, ribbons, veils, dressing-sacques, golf-capes and belts, to say nothing of the contents of both their jewel boxes, no pen can describe.

Not content with the contents, the drawers, too, had been dragged out to be dusted, and were standing on end all about her, a veritable rampart of defence.

"I shouldn't think you would know where to begin," said Toinette.

"I don't, and I think I'll leave the whole mess for Helma to tidy up in the morning," and up jumped Ruth, to give the last stroke to the disorder by overturning the tray of pins and hairpins which she had been sorting when Toinette entered.

"There, now you have done it!" exclaimed Edith, "and I can tell you one thing, you may just as well make up your mind to put my things back where you got them, 'cause I'm not going to," and she wagged her head positively.

"Oh, dear me, this is what comes of trying to be a P. U. L.," said Ruth.

"A P. U. L.?" asked Toinette. "What in the world is that?"

"_That's_ what it is! I found it stuck up in my room when I got back from recitations to-day. I've been in such a tear of a hurry for the last few mornings that my room hasn't been quite up to the mark, I suppose, but Miss Preston never said a word, and now here's this thing stuck here."

Toinette took the sheet of paper which Ruth handed to her, and began to read:

THE PICK-UP LEAGUE

Do you wish to join the P. U. L.?

Then listen to this, but don't you tell, For it's a great secret, and will be--well-- We _hope_, as potent as "book and bell."

A P. U. L. has a place for her hat, And keeps it there; O wonder of that!

Her gloves are put away in their case; Her coat hung up with a charming grace.

School-books and papers are laid away, To be quickly found on the following day.

Then, ere she starts, so blithe and gay, She tarries a moment just to say:

"Wait, just a jiff, while I stop to put This blessed gown on its proper hook, And tuck this 'nightie' snugly from sight Under my pillow for to-night.

"And all these little, kinky hairs, Which, though so frail, can prove such snares, And furnish some one a chance to say: 'Your comb and brush were not cleaned to-day.'

"Hair ribbons, trinkets, sc.r.a.ps and bits, Papers and pencils and torn snips, Left scattered about can prove _such_ pits!

And _in_ we tumble, and just 'catch fits.'

"And this is the reason we formed the league, And will keep its rules, you had better believe: To keep our rooms tidy, to keep things neat, So much that is 'bitter' may be turned 'sweet.'"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "DO YOU WISH TO JOIN THE P. U. L.?"]

When she had finished reading, she sat down on the edge of the bed and laughed till she cried.