CHAPTER XXIII
BETTY POGANY’S almost lifelong experience which she had compared to wearing her sacque wrong-side-out had given her a certain power of concentration which was to be valuable to her all her life. But even if she had not deliberately fixed her mind upon the solution of the problem of getting over to Millville every Wednesday until the latter part of June, the girl could have thought of little else. Yet, struggle as she would, she could see but two alternatives. She might write a note requesting that Rose and herself be excused on Wednesdays at ten minutes before two for the rest of the year, signing Mrs. Harrow’s name and imitating her uneven, slanting hand-writing. Or, they might simply leave school quietly at the end of the last recitation but one at the risk of being detected.
Betty didn’t at all like the idea of forging Mrs. Harrow’s name, even though in the end Mrs. Harrow would understand and be grateful. Moreover, that plan bristled with difficulties. Mr. Appleton would be likely to express his disapproval to Mr. Meadowcroft and Mr. Meadowcroft might quite likely go to Rose’s mother and explain how valuable Latin Composition was—and everything would be spoiled! Furthermore, the alternative, though not really satisfying, was not unpromising. The class in Latin Composition was very large, the recitation room being, according to Tommy, over-crowded because a goodly number of the third-year class had been obligedto repeat it. As she and Rose hadn’t been present at the first lesson, their names wouldn’t be on the list. If Miss Cummings should miss them, she might think that there was some reason Rose couldn’t take it—she didn’t take algebra—and that Betty had so much extra to do helping Rose with the lessons her mother didn’t understand about that she wasn’t taking it either. But Miss Cummings hated big classes and wouldn’t be likely to go poking round to search out additional pupils for the largest class in school. And there was more than an even chance that Mr. Appleton wouldn’t find it out. For he was busy with a class himself at the last hour. And the South Paulding pupils who had recitations the last period were not obliged to return to the main room at the close but could go directly to the cloakroom and thence to the three o’clock train.
On the following Wednesday, accordingly, the girls slipped downstairs as their class passed into the recitation room, made their exit by the back door, and reached the station by means of a side street and a bye-path. They accomplished the manœuver successfully, only Tommy Finnemore being aware of their defection. They visited Dr. Vandegrift, flew over the cross road, found Tommy waiting for them on the turnpike, and reached home within ten minutes of their usual hour.
The next Wednesday they repeated the process, and the future looked bright, indeed. But the third Wednesday, being stormy, presented difficulties.
Missing the appointment was the one thing not to be contemplated. And that was not at all because they had agreed to pay the fee in any case. Dr. Vandegrift had explained to them on their second visit to ParrotStreet why the treatment had to be applied at least once a week—once in seven days. Recalling to their minds the generally accepted theory that the human body is renewed every seven years, he declared that one who has delved deeply into the secret recesses of nature comes to understand that everything moves by sevens, so that there is a partial or miniature renewal every seven days. An organ as delicate as the eye of course exhibits the effect of this law far more sensitively than the grosser ones, but to one who studies, there is a difference even in the structure of the brain or in the hair. Wherefore, the treatment had to be applied at least as often as the renewal in order to maintain equilibrium.
Betty had felt rather stunned after hearing this. The risk of losing an appointment appalled her. Perhaps she had exhibited her distress, for thereupon Dr. Vandegrift took occasion to felicitate them upon the fact that Rose had just passed her fourteenth birthday, the second renewal of her physical powers. She would therefore be far more sensitive and responsive to treatment than she would have been at any other period.
Wet, heavy snow fell all the third Wednesday. Getting to Millville was simple. The problem was to get home in time to escape inquiry. Even had the girls been permitted to walk on a stormy day, the roads were so bad that they couldn’t have counted upon getting home until well after dark, which was more than a risk. It was certain punishment—perhaps the forfeiting their privilege of walking on fair days. A second train left Paulding at half-past four which they could wait for. But it was a through train where the other was a local, and it had always been a tradition at the South villagethat the school children should never take that train except in an emergency and with special permission. However, so far as Betty could see, there was nothing to do but to return to Paulding and wait in the station for that.
Fortunately, Aunt Sarah would be at sewing-circle and wouldn’t know that Betty didn’t come by the earlier train. But Mrs. Harrow would have to be warned. She would be likely to go into hysterics if Rose didn’t appear on that train. Betty appealed to Tommy.
“Rose and I aren’t going home to-night until the late train, Tommy,” she said rather anxiously. “We have simply got to wait for that. Will you please tell Rose’s mother. And O, if you could make up some excuse so that Mrs. Harrow won’t be asking Rose why and all about it! I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t—well, really like a case of life and death.”
“O, I’ll do it. I’d like the practise, don’t you know. I’ll play the spell-binder,” Tommy returned with a cheerful grin.
He would have walked in spite of the storm; but he took the train for the first time in order to deliver the message. A truthful lad, scorning prevarication, he glibly, and perhaps not without complacence, informed Mrs. Harrow that some of the high school girls wanted to practise dancing in the gym after school and Rose had stayed to play for them. Wherefore she and Betty wouldn’t be home until the half-past four train came in.
Mrs. Harrow, proud that Rose should be in demand, was unusually cordial. She made Tommy come in and eat a good-sized triangle of cream cake.
He met the girls at the station and lest Rose shouldmake any embarrassing remarks, explained how he had accounted for their absence.
“O, Tommy! you are so clever. You beat the Dutch!” cried Rose. But Betty was secretly shocked and conscience-smitten. She couldn’t speak all the way to Rose’s.
Of course, it was all for Rose—for the restoration of her sight—and anything that worked in any small way towards that was not only legitimate but praiseworthy. Tommy hadn’t in any way done wrong—real wrong; but if only he hadn’t had that air of almost boastful satisfaction! If he had looked sober, chastened, as who should say “I suffer in the cause of righteousness,” Betty felt sure that she would not have that distressingly uncomfortable sensation at her heart. But after all, that could hardly have been without fuller knowledge on Tommy’s part. And truly he was a loyal soul, breaking his proud precedent without a word and coming home by train to bring the message. And perhaps he had excuse for satisfaction in the manner he had carried out Betty’s request. Moreover, he wouldn’t tell the whitest lie, the merest fib, to save himself. He had lost hours and hours with his magic which he could have saved by untruthfulness or evasion.