Helen Grant's Schooldays Part 32

Daisy had made the first advances. She was more experienced in school ways, older, richer, and a favorite with the cla.s.s. Helen felt honored by her preference. If she had been less lovable it might have savored of patronage and that Helen would have declined. It sometimes seemed as if she was the stronger, the leading spirit, as in some respects Daisy yielded unhesitatingly to her.

It was Helen's first girl friendship, and it possessed something of the marvel to her that Mrs. Dayton's kindliness had, since neither were in anywise compelled to take her up. But why had she ever promised to love Daisy only?

And did she really _love_ Juliet Craven? This night was the first time Miss Craven had ever used her Christian name. She would hardly dream of being intimate with any of the young ladies in the senior cla.s.s, though several of them were very cordial and she had been asked to sing for them and with them. Helen made a funny distinction about this, it was due to her voice and not her personality. She was too wholesome to feel aggrieved about such a thing and she had very little vanity. Being brought up by Aunt Jane would have taken the vanity out of any girl.

But there did not seem so much difference between her age and Miss Craven's as the years confessed. Helen knew a great deal more about the real world. She was likely to make a good logician. Her short experience at Mrs. Dayton's had given her the key to the larger world. Those women with their different qualities were reproduced here in the school, here in Westchester, and were no doubt repeated elsewhere. But Miss Craven knew nothing and was afraid to judge, to have decided opinions, to compare one with another. Her solitary life had taken her into the very heart of nature, of a certain kind of dreaming, and longing for knowledge, but that was widely different from the every day knowledge of general living. Helen had not been lonely, her mind was too active, and there had always been people about her. She wanted her knowledge to enable her to go out in the world and conquer it; girls of fourteen and older do have such dreams. Miss Craven wanted hers largely for herself alone.

Helen had pitied her, been very sympathetic, a.s.sisted her over rough places, and really advised. Was not this some of the work preached about on Sunday in the churches, helping the weaker brethren? She had hardly thought of religion up to this period of her life as having any duties in a practical sense, but Mrs. Aldred gave the school that tone, and Miss Grace was interested in the broader Christian life, not merely church-going.

So Miss Craven, curiously enough, had looked like a duty to Helen. She and Daisy did their brief reading every night, but since Christmas so many verses had pointed to the weaker brother. The stronger, wiser girls in school did not want anything of her, at least she thought she had nothing to give them, since they did not ask, and the word was "everyone that asketh." Miss Craven had asked by a glance of the eye, a pressure of the hand, a quiver of the wordless lips that hesitated to frame the desire into speech. Yes, she did love her if charity and kindliness were love, and--oh, there _was_ something deeper, wider, higher.

She had not settled the question when she fell asleep, rather late for her and so she did not wake until Daisy touched her. Daisy Bell had half a mind to let her oversleep and lose a mark, then she really did love her too well.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Helen ruefully. "And I wanted to finish my Latin translation this morning."

There could be no thought of anything but hurrying downstairs. Miss Craven was in her place and glanced up with a certain eagerness in her eyes. All through breakfast time Daisy made herself uncomfortable, watching.

"So you have a rival in your sweetheart's affections," Miss Mays whispered mischievously, linking her arm in that of Daisy's as they sauntered through the hall. "The glances are something wonderful, beseeching. If the eyes hadn't that dull, leady look they might prove dangerous in years to come, but I doubt if young men will be drawn near enough to experience their fascination. But she gains a little every day, and you will soon lose your Helen of Troy."

"Helen of Troy is a free agent. She can make friends wherever she will,"

was the rather curt answer.

"But 'life is th.o.r.n.y and love is vain,'" quoted Roxy. "I _do_ wonder at Helen Grant's taste."

There were lessons and exercises and Helen found her mind wandering, having to bring it back by sharp turns. Daisy was very distant. "Oh, how foolish girls can be!" Helen thought.

When they went in to luncheon a surprise greeted most of the girls.

Helen Grant saw the vacant seat beside her. One of the girls opposite touched elbows with the other and both glanced at the end of the room.

Helen let her eyes wander down leisurely. Next to Mrs. Aldred sat a stranger, next to her Miss Craven, more timid than ever.

The stranger was elegant and airy. Her cloth gown was of the newest shade of green, the small bolero covered with iridescent embroidery, the satin bosom a few shades lighter, sown here and there with beads in colors that sparkled like gems. A very pretty, stylish-looking woman of five and thirty perhaps. She wore two magnificent diamond rings and a small star at her throat. The most critical taste could not p.r.o.nounce her loud.

Helen thought rapidly. Was that Mrs. Howard? She felt rather disappointed.

Everybody went on with the luncheon and when it was through, Mrs.

Aldred, the guest, and Miss Bigelow retired to the drawing room. What did it all mean? They heard presently. The lady was Mrs. Davis, the wife of Miss Craven's guardian. Just as Morris had answered the door, Miss Bigelow crossed the hall and recognized a lady she had seen a good deal of in the summer.

"Why this _is_ delightful to meet a familiar face," declared the stranger. "Is this where you are at school? We have a _protegee_ here, at least Mr. Davis is guardian and trustee of a young woman and no end of money, Miss Craven, do you know her?"

Morris was trying to usher the guest into the reception room.

"Yes, she is here," and Miss Bigelow did the honors; begged Mrs. Davis to be seated. Morris came back with the word that Mrs. Aldred would be at liberty in a few moments.

"Do tell me what kind of a school it is? The girl's grandfather died; he was a queer old fellow, and the business was in a sort of muddle, but, as I said, there is no end of money. I wanted her to go to a convent; I was good enough to take her in and see what could be done in the way of polishing, for you see she must go in society. She didn't take kindly to the Roman Catholic aspect, but you know they never interfere with anyone's religion. I had a friend come to stay with me while I was giving a house party, a Mrs. Howard, who took a fancy to her; she had scarcely been out of the woods, though I found she had come of a very good family--Revolutionary people and a great-uncle, a judge in Maryland, and several men of note. The Baltimore relatives are among some of the best in society. If there had been no family back of her I really couldn't have undertaken her. Mrs. Howard knew of this school; I think she had a niece educated here. So she wrote, and the matter somehow settled itself. I was engaged for Lenox, and two or three house parties, and Washington, Charleston, and Florida. I do seem to keep on the go most of the time. And this is really the first opportunity I have had to look after her, though I knew I could trust Mrs. Howard."

"Miss Craven is in excellent hands here. Of course I am among the Seniors and graduate in June, and am very busy, so I see but little of the Juniors."

"Why, it is quite college-like." Mrs. Davis had taken in a fresh supply of breath. Her voice was soft and well trained, though she rather swept along as she talked.

"Girls are prepared for college, or for any position in life," Miss Bigelow replied with a smile.

"That is what Mrs. Howard said. I can't understand how the grandfather could become such a queer old hermit when the family was an excellent one. It might have been the loss of his son, this girl's father. Mr.

Davis thinks he was a man of education and shrewd about business. He had to go over all the papers, you know, and there were marriage certificates, his parents and his own, and various family affairs. I was glad for her sake that everything was right. A family stigma always keeps cropping up."

Mrs. Aldred entered at this juncture, and Miss Bigelow left the two ladies to their conference. Mrs. Davis went over the ground again, more at length, and stated her wishes definitely. She wanted Miss Craven trained to make a good impression on society, accomplished if she could be.

"She has a great talent for music and will make a fine player. It is a pity she could not have begun her general education sooner," replied Mrs. Aldred. "It will take time to reach any standard."

"Oh, a thousand pities. But it doesn't seem really necessary for her to go into the abstruse subjects, for every year counts. It is an excellent thing that girls do not marry as young as they used to. I was married before I was quite eighteen, but I had been three years at a first-cla.s.s boarding school. She will be twenty in the summer. She certainly can finish in another year?" tentatively.

"She can do a good deal, but hardly that. This year it will be princ.i.p.ally ground-work. She has had private lessons, and she does love study, is eager to learn. Next year she will go into regular cla.s.ses and get accustomed to girls. She is painfully shy."

"I hope you can give her some style. After all, money _does_ make amends for a great deal, and I have known some really ignorant girls to marry well, but now everyone who makes a bow to society is expected to have some training, and get the air of _nouveaux riches_ rubbed off. That is detestable."

"I do not think that will be one of her faults;" and Mrs. Aldred smiled a little, wondering how long it had been since Mrs. Davis had cast comparative poverty behind her.

"French and all that she can pick up abroad. I should like her to know some Italian songs. I wish I _could_ take her next year. You hardly consider it possible?"

"Oh, no. I should certainly wait. She has improved. I will send for her.

And as it will soon be luncheon time may I not have the pleasure of making you a guest? You will see our school in every-day trim, and meet some of our teachers. We have also a day school for larger girls."

Mrs. Davis accepted graciously. Miss Craven was summoned, and entered with self-possession.

The girl had been very happy all the morning. The consciousness that someone loved her, albeit a girl so much younger, had been like red wine to her blood, and kept her pulses throbbing, given her eyes a subtle glow. The bluish tint should never have been in such eyes, golden or the translucent green that sometimes sets hazel eyes ashine would have made a great change in her face. But they had lightened up curiously, and her cheeks rounded out, her complexion cleared up since she was no longer exposed to sun and wind, and had a more hygienic training. She had tied a pink ribbon around her neck. Helen Grant liked it so much.

Altogether, she looked improved from last summer. And she certainly had learned to smile. Her teeth were white, even, and pretty.

She was very much surprised, and could not dismiss her distrust of Mrs.

Davis at once. Indeed, what reason had she for distrusting her? Mrs.

Aldred led the conversation until the girl's first embarra.s.sment was over, and then gracefully withdrew to plan for a change at the table.

Soon after luncheon Mrs. Davis took her leave, quite convinced that Mrs.

Aldred would do as well for her husband's ward as anyone. She would have liked the prestige of the convent better.

By dinner time most of the girls knew that Miss Juliet Craven was really an heiress, and that her guardian was the great banker and lawyer as well, and who was occasionally called upon to disentangle some very intricate points, Mr. James Elliot Davis.

CHAPTER XV

BETWIXT TWO

"And you knew it all the time!" Daisy Bell cried indignantly. She sat curled up on her bed, her soft, pretty hair let down about her shoulders, her arms folded across her chest as if she would shut out any pleading tone from her heart, if indeed it was her heart whose racing pulsation could decide for her, and keep or banish a guest.

"Not all the time," corrected Helen. "She told me a little of her story, told it briefly, I mean, and left me to infer the rest; explained _why_ she wanted an education, and the almost accident of her coming here. She seemed so lonely at Christmas-tide when so many of you were away in happy homes, having delightful times with plenty of love and joy and good cheer. Well, I felt rather lonely as well."