Dorothy at Oak Knowe Part 2

It was a very lame excuse and Dolly knew it. But it was the truth and as such she gave it.

Miss Tross-Kingdon made no reply. Inwardly she was commenting upon Dorothy's p.r.o.nunciation of certain words, which was wholly at fault according to English custom, and realizing that here was the first fault to be corrected in her new pupil.

Dorothy's heart sank. Uncle Seth's last advice to her had been:

"Whenever you feel blue, just wave your flag of high courage and march ahead. Don't stop to think! March, march, march--toward the better time that will surely come."

But that high-courage flag hung limply now and she felt she could never again wave it at all. But, fortunately, the Lady Princ.i.p.al now rose to terminate the interview. Touching an electric bell for the maid on night duty, she said:

"It is very late and you are tired. Dawkins will show you to your cubicle and a.s.sist you in undressing. You may omit your bath, to-night, and are allowed an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Where are your suit case and hand bag?"

Dorothy rose, as the lady did, but a fresh feeling of guilt made her eyes fall as she murmured:

"I--don't--know."

"Don't know!" echoed the Lady Princ.i.p.al, in amazement. Then directing Dawkins to supply what was needed, she returned to her interrupted repose, while Dorothy wearily followed the stern-faced maid; being cautioned, meanwhile:

"Do not dare to make a noise and arouse the young ladies."

Yet arrived at the cubicle, or small division of the great dormitory which had been a.s.signed her, Dorothy realized that Dawkins was kinder than she looked. For presently she was being undressed, her face and hands sponged with cool water, and herself reclothed with the freshest of gowns. Then she was bodily lifted into the dainty little bed as if she were a baby.

This unexpected gentleness touched her heart and, flinging her arms about the maid's neck, she sobbed:

"Oh! do be good to me! I am so desolate!"

"Whist, child! We must no be wakin' the troublesome girls around. And sure the lonesomeness'll pa.s.s, like the dew afore sun, once you get a good sleep and meet up with your mates. Good night, child, and sleep well."

Then, since there was n.o.body to witness her unusual demonstration, maid Dawkins stooped and kissed the tired eyes of her new charge, and went quietly away.

But there had been one observer of this caress. Peeping from her own compartment stood a girl whose keen eyes had noticed everything, and who felt she could scarcely wait until morning to spread the news.

Creeping back to her own bed, she lay long awake, thinking the matter over. For this schoolgirl, who rejoiced in the t.i.tle of the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard, had a deal of curiosity that was wholly roused now.

"Never saw old Dawkins kiss anybody. Dawkins, of all creatures! Never knew a new girl come at this time of night--and she certainly was new.

And she hadn't any clothes, I know, because that was one of the school hampers Dawkins had. Must be somebody very poor. I wonder who!

Maybe--for goodness sake! Maybe she's some relation to old Dawk! Else why should she kiss her? Humph! I thought this was a school for young ladies, not for the poor relations of servants. There's one thing certain, mamma will never allow me to remain where there are paupers.

Never in this world. Neither would Lord Christopher let Marjorie. No, indeed. So will Miss Tross-Kingdon find out. Why! one charity pupil at Oak Knowe would ruin it! Anyhow, I mean to hurry round in the morning and warn all my set against noticing the beggar and what our set does surely goes. Mamma gets odd notions about things, sometimes, like saying I must sleep in this old dormitory instead of having a private room, and that I have silly feelings about rank. Wanted the Lady Princ.i.p.al to make me more democratic: but even she couldn't wish me to sleep among paupers. Heigho! I wish it was morning! But I'll take a nap now and that will pa.s.s the time."

Exhausted by the long journey she had taken, and by the startling events of the night, unconscious Dorothy slept calmly on, little dreaming of Gwendolyn's fancies about her; nor did she wake till long after all her dormitory mates had dressed and gone below to breakfast.

When she did arouse it was to wonder about this strange place in which she found herself and at an elfish-looking child perched on the foot of her little bed, staring at her with wide eyes and keen impatience, and who greeted her first movement with the exclamation:

"Well, old sleepy-head, I thought you never would wake up! Who are you, anyway, and what makes you stay in cubicle so long after breakfast? Won't you catch a lecture, though! I wouldn't be in your shoes for a sovereign!"

"Don't believe you could be in them. You're so small they'd fall off,"

answered Dorothy laughing.

"No, they wouldn't. I'd tie them on. If I wanted to. Who are you?

When'd you come? How dare you stay in bed so?"

Dolly laughed again. She had fallen asleep convinced that she could never laugh again, so tired and homesick had she been. But now, refreshed by rest and with the sunlight streaming through the windows, the world seemed a very different place. Besides, there was something so winning about this inquisitive little maid, that the stranger's heart was comforted that she had found a friend already.

"Well, dearie, I suppose I dare because Miss Tross-Kingdon--"

"Did she say you could? Isn't that odd! She's my aunt. I haven't any folks 'cept her, I'm a norphan. I'm Millikins-Pillikins, my brother Hugh calls me; and the girls, too. But I'm not, really. I'm Grace Adelaide Victoria Tross-Kingdon. That's my truly name. n.o.body could call me all that, could they? Wouldn't be time. Auntie Princie calls me just plain 'darling' or 'dear.' I'm a Minim. I don't have to do lessons and things. I'm in the 'kindy.' Auntie Princie doesn't approve of a kindergarten in this School for Young Ladies; but it's a speriment the Board of Directioners wanted to try. Them's the gentlemen auntie has to mind. Fancy! My great big grown-up Auntie Prin having to mind them, same's I have to mind her! My Lord Bishop, he's the head Directioner, but he's the jolliest! I just love him! He knew my papa and mamma before they got drowned in the sea. My brother Hugh lives with the Bishop and writes things for him. They call him a seckeratary. He gets money for doing it. Think of that! Sometimes he gives me pennies and even six-pences. Sometimes--not often. You see he wants to earn enough to buy a cottage for him and me. I'm to be the lady of it--the mistress! Fancy! But Auntie Princie says I have lots to learn before then. I will have to make his bread, 'cause he won't have money enough to keep me and a cook, too. I'll have to have a housemaid to help me, but you know housemaids never do the cooking.

But say, girl, you haven't told me your name yet?"

Dorothy sat up in bed and drew the child toward her:

"My dear, you haven't given me a chance yet, you've been so busy telling me who you are. But I've enjoyed it and I thank you for coming to wake me up. Now I must get up and dress. Maybe you will show me to the bathroom, though I don't like to go about in this way."

"That's a school nightie you've got on. Where's your bath robe?"

"In my trunk."

"Where's your trunk?"

"I suppose it's at John Gilpin's house. That is, if he didn't throw it out of the cart with the empty barrels."

"Why did he throw out the barrels?"

"To make a place for Robin to lie on."

"What Robin?"

"The messenger boy who was hurt. He was bringing my telegram and he fainted and fell and the motor car--but I mustn't stop now to talk. I must get dressed."

"Couldn't you talk without stopping? I could."

"I believe you, child. Will you show me?"

"Of course--if you'll tell the rest. Wait. If you want a robe I'll get Gwendolyn's. It's right yonder."

So it happened that the first act of the supposed charity pupil was to borrow a garment of the very girl who had so misjudged her, and who entered the dormitory just as Dorothy was leaving it for the lavatory.

Curiosity had sent Gwendolyn and Laura Griswold, her chum and "shadow," back to this apartment at this unusual hour, but at sight of Dorothy disappearing toward the bath wearing Gwendolyn's robe, its owner forgot her curiosity in indignation. Stopping short, midway the great room, she clasped her hands in a tragic manner and demanded of Laura:

"Did you ever in your life see anything so cool as that? The impudent girl! How dare she? I wonder what else she's taken! And that mischievous little Pill with her. That child's the nuisance of this school. Even if she is Lady Princ.i.p.al's niece, she shouldn't be given the liberty she has. But I'll report."

"Yes, indeed, I'd report!" echoed Laura. "First, have to sleep in the school things; then help herself to yours. It's simply outrageous. Why not go right away? It's recess and Miss Tross-Kingdon has no cla.s.s."

"She has worse. The Bishop's in the reception-room, and Dr. Winston, too. They were all talking very fast and I wanted to stop and listen.

But I didn't quite dare, for she was facing the door and might see me.

But I did hear the Bishop say that if she was a Calvert she could hardly fail to be all right. She came of good stock--none better. I wondered who he meant; but Lady Princ.i.p.al saw me looking in and asked me if 'I wished anything?' Hateful woman! She has the most disagreeable manners!"

"Never mind. Anyway, let's go tell her!" advised Laura, and the pair departed.

However, the electric bell rang just then, announcing that recess was over and the telling had to be postponed to a better season. A few moments later a maid came to say that as soon as Dorothy was ready the Lady Princ.i.p.al would receive her in the west parlor. But she might stop in the breakfast-room on the way, where a dish of cereal and a bowl of hot milk was awaiting her. The maid added to the "Little Pill":

"As for you, Miss Grace, the Minims are ready for their calisthenics and your teacher wants you."