Helen Grant's Schooldays Part 31

Helen flushed, too, but she asked nonchalantly, "What?"

"An old maid! And she said she didn't know what I wanted to come to school for. I would never know enough to teach. Do you suppose she would dare call Miss Aldred an old maid?"

"Oh, the girls do call each other that, and they don't mean anything,"

said Helen lightly.

"They were talking _about_ me, not to me. It doesn't make me a day older, I know, but it keeps me from being friendly and at home, don't you see? My way is paid as well as theirs--it costs me more, for I have private lessons. I have as good right to the school as anybody, whether I want to teach or not."

Helen looked at her in amazement. She had never seen so much spirit in her face. If she could be roused, not by anger merely, but some potent power. Happiness and love might do it.

"Oh, now I have offended you----"

"No, you have not offended me at all. You looked so spirited that I could not help admiring you. It is a very mean thing for girls to make ill-natured comments on each other. I wish they did not. I do not see why they cannot pick out the nice things instead and say them over."

Helen had made several protests about this matter. She corrected the subject of Miss Craven's age with spirit.

"You will never make me believe that," Miss Mays had exclaimed with unnecessary vigor.

"Mrs. Aldred has the register, ask her."

"Oh, Miss Craven may have said that was her age. And who knows anything about her? She keeps to herself as if there was something not quite----" ending with a disagreeable emphasis.

"Girls," began another, "we all know if there was anything wrong or discreditable she would not be here. I do not call her an attractive girl, but if we do not like her we can let her alone. She lets us alone.

We can't say she has forced herself in our society."

"A vote of thanks from one for speaking up for her," said Helen gayly.

"And, of course, Mrs. Aldred knows."

"And Miss Grant, the baby of the school, has been taken into confidence.

Pray do enlighten us. Did she come from India or the Fiji Islands, where education is sadly neglected?"

"For all information on the subject, I refer you to Mrs. Aldred."

Helen was angry, but she kept her temper. The ridiculous side of it all occurred to her, and another thought--What if Uncle Jason should come striding into the hall when half the girls were standing around? What would they say about her? How could girls be so mean and ungenerous?

This had happened some days before the talk. And now, after a moment or two of silence, Helen said to Miss Craven, "There is a verse in Proverbs, I think I heard it read in church one Sunday, 'He that would have friends must show himself friendly.'"

"I don't want any friend but you."

There was a great tremble in Miss Craven's voice and she began to cry.

"And you will not let me advise you about the little things that make so much difference with girls."

How did _she_ know? Helen flushed at her own a.s.sumption, and yet she _did_ understand. She pitied Juliet Craven profoundly, too.

"Oh, don't cry. Can't I comfort you with some word? See here, I really love you. You are so brave, so persevering, you have had such a hard, lonely life, and I would like to make it brighter."

"Oh, Helen! Oh, Miss Grant."

"No; keep to the Helen," the younger girl interrupted.

"To have you love me! But I might have known so much care and kindness could only spring from love. Oh, I think I shall not mind the other girls now. I've been longing so for real love. Are you quite sure? It seems too good when I have been making myself content with a simple liking."

She pressed Helen's hands to her hot cheeks, wet with tears. Helen kissed her on the forehead, but the elder drew her face down and returned the kiss many times.

"The dinner bell will ring in a few moments," Helen declared presently, "and we must both make ourselves fit to be seen, not of men, but between thirty and forty feminines. I wish your gowns were not quite so grave, but spring is on the way and we will take to light raiment and look like a flock of birds. Good-by for five minutes," and she flashed away.

Daisy had a blue ribbon tied in her hair and a pretty chiffon neckgear, and was really an attractive girl.

"Why didn't you stay all night with that woman of grays and browns and general dismalness, and lose your dinner! There, you have almost. If she had any beauty or charm about her I should be jealous, for you belong to me, you know."

Helen slipped into a light shirtwaist and was ready in a trice. Miss Craven did not come down. When the maid went to inquire, she said she had a headache, and wanted only a cup of tea.

There was the bit of social life, the study period, and Helen seemed so discomposed that she used up every moment of it until they were dismissed. Daisy put her arm about Helen, another girl took the other side, and three or four of them came into the room.

How they stayed! Helen summoned courage presently.

"Excuse me a moment," and she flashed out of the room, tapping at Miss Craven's door.

It was open just an inch or two.

"I came to ask about your headache and say good-night," in a low tone.

"Oh, you dear, sweet friend! It did ache, but I think it was a kind of joy throbbing. I didn't want any dinner though. I just laid here and thought--happy thoughts."

The half-past nine bell pealed and everyone ran to her own room. Daisy stood in the middle of the floor upbraidingly, if one's att.i.tude can express so much.

"I believe that girl has cast an evil eye on you," she began when Helen kept silence, busying herself with preparations. "There are evil charms as well as delightful ones, and spells that wile away love. And you have promised not to love anyone but me."

"Have I?" Helen's voice was unsteady.

"Yes, you have, and you think promises ought to be kept faithfully. You must keep yours. I said I wouldn't love any other girl, and I haven't.

I've seen her look at you with a strange light in her eyes, and they are horrid eyes----"

"Don't let us talk about Miss Craven, but read our verses and say our prayers," and now Helen's voice had decision enough in it.

"You are changing every day, I can see it," complained Daisy.

"Then let us pray that I may get back to the point," with grave peremptoriness.

Daisy was a little awed at this solemn way of taking it up, and acquiesced.

Helen lay and wondered at herself. Had she made Daisy such a sweeping promise? And how easy it had been to say those few words to Miss Craven.

What joy it had given her. She did not love Daisy Bell any less--how many people could you love? Must one true affection shut out the others?

She _did_ really love Daisy Bell. She had a rather pet.i.te figure and face; the face fair and full of soft curves changing with every emotion, and a rose tint that came and went, that seemed playing hide and seek with two seductive dimples, one in her chin, the other in her cheek.

Her hair was a light brown that had a tint of gold, and her eyes were a soft dark brown that could look at you with the utmost pathos or deepen with fun and fire, and her rose-red lips had a dewy, tremulous fashion of shaping themselves to any mood.

Another charm for Helen was her love of order and neatness, without being at all fussy, her wonderful blending of colors, the little touches that gave an air to the plainest surroundings. Then she was generally helpful. Helen had been indebted to her for many small aids along the difficult paths of learning that were quite unknown in Hope Center.