“Let me introduce you to two more of your classmates.”
“Let me introduce you to two more of your classmates.”
Miss Van Gerder drew a deep breath. “I shall never forgive myself for the mischief I have done, but I will do my best to repair it. Let me tell you what I know of Margaret’s family. In the first place, Mr. Worthington was my great-uncle, and I visited at his Chicago home very often, so that is the way I came to know Margaret. I never saw very much of her, for she was in school or busy helping her mother, and, of course, I was going to teas and receptions, and such things, when I was there, although I wasn’t much more than a child. Mrs. Hamilton was uncle’s housekeeper for years, and after his wife died, he depended on her entirely for things not often entrusted to a servant. He had no children. Mrs. Hamilton was a farmer’s daughter; she is a good, sensible, honest woman. She has always been very ambitious for Margaret, and that is not strange, for Margaret has a fine intellect. She inherits it from her father. He was a farmer’s boy and came from the same locality as Mrs. Hamilton. They knew each other as children, and went to the same district school. There Mrs. Hamilton’s education stopped. Mr. Hamilton,however, had made up his mind, as a boy, to go to West Point. He had no political influence to help him, so he studied with all his energy and might. He finally went to the city, obtained employment at a boarding-house to do work out of schooltime, and so he managed to gain a thorough foundation. He knew that his only chance of getting to West Point at all, lay in his ability to outdistance other boys in a competitive examination. So I suppose no boy ever studied harder than did he.”
She stopped a moment to look at the interested faces of her auditors. “His chance finally came and he was ready for it. A congressional appointment was offered the boy who stood highest. Mr. Hamilton won it. He went to West Point, and for nearly three years he did fine work. While he was there, his father died. His mother had died long before. His father was ill for months before his death, and Mr. Hamilton sent home every cent that he could spare. At Easter time in his third year he was invited, with some other West Pointers, to spend the day with an acquaintance up the Hudson. Theygot permission and went. I do not know who their host was, but he was not a West Pointer. During the afternoon he took the cadets out in a sailboat. I presume he knew enough of boats ordinarily, but he was drunk that day; he would not let any of the other young men take charge, and so, when a little gust of wind came up, the boat went over. The others escaped with a ducking–even the drunken fellow who was solely responsible for the accident; but Mr. Hamilton struck on a rock, on the boat, or on something–no one ever knew just how it happened; anyway, the boys had hard work saving him, though he was a fine swimmer. When they pulled him into the boat, he was insensible. For weeks they thought that he would not recover, and when he did get well, it was only to learn that he must resign his cadetship. There had been an accident to his spine which rendered him totally unfit for a cadet’s life.”
“How horribly, horribly sad.”
“It was sad, and he wished thousands of times that his companions had let him drown. He would not give up hope until he had spent every cent of money he possessed in consultingspecialists. But they could do nothing for him. He drifted to Chicago, perfectly unfit for any heavy work. He tried several things and had to give them up. Then uncle chanced to advertise for a coachman. Mr. Hamilton answered the advertisement, told uncle his story, and stayed with him from that time until his death about six years ago.”
“And Mrs. Hamilton?”
“He had very few friends, and all the time that he was at West Point he had corresponded with Mrs. Hamilton. They had always been good friends; she must have been very pretty as a girl. When uncle heard that they were to be married, he fitted up a tiny coachman’s house in the rear of his grounds. He liked them both very much. Afterward, he induced Mrs. Hamilton to come up to the house and act as his housekeeper. He came to depend upon her more and more.”
“But where do you suppose their money came from?”
“Uncle left Mrs. Hamilton seven thousand dollars. He knew that Margaret wished to fit herself for a teacher in the higher grades,and he always meant to help her through college. The money was intended partly for that purpose, I am sure. Margaret probably refused to come unless her mother would stop working. After she has graduated here, she can easily secure a position, and support them both. They will have plenty of money to last until then, for Mrs. Hamilton must have saved considerable, too. Uncle paid her generously.”
“I think that your story of her father is very sad. With his education it does seem as if he could have secured some clerical work or some position in a bank.”
“There are eight hundred applicants for every such place; besides, Mr. Hamilton could not sit in a cramped position, writing; he had to have a certain amount of outdoor life, though he could not walk far. Really, his work at my uncle’s, suited his health admirably, though it was hard for him to take a servant’s position; there is no doubt of that. Uncle was kind to him, and made the position as easy as possible, still there was no denying the fact that he was a coachman. One day a youngman came to visit uncle while I was there. It turned out that he had been at West Point while Mr. Hamilton was a cadet. Margaret’s father felt horribly disgraced, though there was no reason why he should. He had to meet Lieutenant Maynard, and it hurt his pride fearfully to act the part of a servant toward his former classmate. He always felt rebellious and bitter. He wasn’t big enough to realize that ‘a man’s a man for a’ that.’ I suppose it is hard to keep that fact in mind under all circumstances, and I have no business to be preaching, for I would probably feel more bitter than did he, if I should ever be similarly placed. As long as his own ambitions had been defeated, he became ambitious for Margaret. She was to have a fine education, and to be a professor in some college. She had a few school friends, but not many intimates. Her mother felt that she was slighted at school.”
“And yet,” Beth could not resist saying reproachfully, “you have made it even worse for her here.”
“Yes, but you must believe that I did it all unwittingly. I never gave a thought towhat I was saying. I shall never forgive myself for my carelessness. It came about naturally enough, though. Miss Dunbar seemed intensely interested in Margaret, and kept asking questions until I was rather out of patience, particularly as I was trying to listen to a story which Professor Newton was telling. She wanted to know where I had met Margaret and if I knew her very well. I said that I met her at my uncle’s home in Chicago. Was Margaret visiting there? No, she lived there. Oh, then she was some relative of my uncle’s? And I carelessly said no, that her mother had charge of uncle’s house. I should have thought twice before speaking, if I had not been giving my main attention to Professor Newton. As soon as I had made the remark, there seemed to be a volcanic eruption at my side, and I thought that Miss Dunbar would have hysterics on the spot. She said that she regretted the fact that Margaret was her room-mate; that she was not accustomed to rooming with servants, and, of course, she will be awfully disagreeable to her. I took a double room, but I intended to bealone. Now, however, I shall ask one of the professors to allow Margaret to come in with me. The sooner that is done, the better for all concerned. I wonder to whom I had better go?”
“Go to Professor Newton,” said Dolly promptly, “and take Miss Sutherland with you. She is Professor Newton’s niece, and can help you out, if you need any assistance, but I do not suppose you will.”
“Thanks for the suggestion. I shall get the permission first, but possibly Margaret will not care to room with me after the hornet’s nest I have raised. I wonder, Miss Alden, if you would ask her to come here while Miss Sutherland and I are interviewing Professor Newton?”
“I shall be very glad to do so. It will be much better to have your talk here, than in her room, where Abby Dunbar would be liable to interrupt you at any moment. And, Miss Van Gerder, do not feel too conscience-stricken over your inadvertence. For my part, I believe that Margaret will be glad, after the first fuss is over. No one, then, can accuse her of sailing under false colors.Everything will be perfectly open and aboveboard.”
“It is good of you to say so, but I am sure that your room-mate does not hold that opinion. At least, I made no mention of her father. I presume that would be a still harder thing for Miss Dunbar to overlook.”
“I think,” said Dolly persistently, “that it would have been better for all concerned, if you had said that Mr. Hamilton was your uncle’s coachman. Then everything would have been told at once, and Margaret would have no future disclosures to dread.”
“I think I was sufficiently stupid as it was;” and then Mary and Miss Van Gerder went off to see Professor Newton, while Dolly went in search of Miss Hamilton.
She did not fancy the errand much, for she had a premonition that Miss Dunbar might also be in the room, and that a scene would be inevitable. And she was not wrong.
Asshe drew near Margaret’s room, she caught the sound of excited voices. Abby Dunbar’s tones reached her, high-pitched and shrill.
“You have been a fraud, nothing but a fraud, from beginning to end. You have imposed upon us all. There is no use trying to carry it off with such a high hand! You led us all to suppose that your people were respectable, and so we took you in, and now it seems that your mother was nothing but a servant, and–”
“And perhaps you would also like to know (as you evidently are not aware of the fact as yet), that my father was a coachman. I am exceedingly proud of them both, and–”
“I don’t see how you dare to stand there and face us! Let me tell you one thing, though–”
Dolly ran hastily down the hall. She could stand it no longer. Her indignation burned hotly for Margaret. Why were girlsso much narrower than boys? Rob Steele had been a coachman and errand-boy, and even a bootblack. He did not hesitate to say so; and yet, with possibly a very few exceptions, none of the students at Harvard treated him with any the less respect for it. But Margaret–
Dolly paused in the doorway, almost breathless. “Oh, Margaret, we are going to have a little impromptu tea in my room–Miss Van Gerder, and a couple of others. I have been sent for you. Please come!”
“You do not know that you are inviting the daughter of a coachman and a housekeeper, Miss Alden. It is time for people to know exactly who and what our class president is. She has been sailing under false colors long enough.”
Margaret stood pale and cold during this tirade. The room was full of sophomores–Abby Dunbar’s sympathizers, as was very evident.
“Oh, yes,” said Dolly carelessly, “of course I’ve known all about Miss Hamilton’s parents since early in our freshman year, but I didn’t see what difference it made. Areyou going to ask us all to write out our ancestral history for your benefit? I’m afraid that we are too good republicans here to do that for you. By the way, Margaret, Miss Van Gerder is going to beg permission of Professor Newton for you to room with her. In fact, she has gone to her now, and she wants to coax you into the plan.”
Dolly threw this little bombshell with secret glee. If Miss Van Gerder intended taking Margaret up, how could these girls, with not a tithe of her wealth or standing, urge their petty reasons for snubbing Margaret?
She carried her off before there was time for further controversy. There should be no more ill words said than she could help. It is hard to unsay harsh things. It is much better to prevent their being uttered at all. There would doubtless be enough said at best, but Dolly felt that her prompt action had probably prevented a few bitter flings anyway. At the door of her room Margaret detained her. Dolly had chattered all of the way down the hall. Margaret had not uttered a word. Now she looked steadily at Dolly.
“Are you not laboring under some delusion or excitement? I had better give you the details of our family history before I go in.”
“Nonsense! I have known your history, as I said, since the Christmas holidays. What does it matter? Come in, and Beth shall make tea for us.”
“But do tell me how you knew.”
“I will tell you everything, only come in,” and Dolly gave her a good-natured push into the room where the others were waiting for them, for Mary and Miss Van Gerder had already returned with permission for Margaret to change rooms, if she desired.
“I sincerely hope that you do desire, for I really want you, Margaret.”
“You are very good, Miss Van Gerder.”
“Now stop right there, Margaret. Whether you room with me or not, you shall not be formal. My name is Constance, and you know it very well.”
“I never called you by it,” said Margaret steadily.
“I hope you will now. Please don’t spoil the entire year for me. If you will consent to share my rooms, and let me make up formy thoughtlessness in so far as I may, you will be doing me a great favor.”
“I do not see why you should not have said what you did; it was the truth, and there was no reason why it should not have been told. You must not feel that you owe me any reparation. That is not true. So far as I am concerned, while the present moment may be a little disagreeable in many respects, I cannot altogether regret what has occurred. Mother, naturally, will feel sorry, but there cannot be further disclosures, for I filled in, for Miss Dunbar’s benefit, all the details that you had omitted. She knows that Father was your uncle’s coachman, and–”
“And he was a good one, and we all liked him. What a tempest in a teapot this is! Now be sensible. You are going to be my room-mate as a favor to me. I beg it. That is settled. I shall see that Patrick comes and moves your trunks this afternoon, and as soon as we have had some of Miss Newby’s tea, we are all going over to your room to help you carry the lighter things. There is no need to bother packing those.”
“Of course not,” said Beth readily. “Weshall be delighted to help you. With five of us at work, we shall have everything moved in half an hour.”
Margaret looked only half-satisfied. She had pride, too. If Constance Van Gerder was taking her in a spirit of self-sacrifice, she had no intention of becoming her room-mate. Things would not be pleasant, but she could stand it, even if shewereostracized.
But Constance read her easily, and without referring again to the subject, she soothed her wounded pride and contrived to let her know that she was actually wanted.
A little later they all started for Margaret’s room to aid her in the “moving process.” The room was still filled with Abby Dunbar’s friends, and they were evidently much excited.
Constance included them all in the cool little nod that she gave on entering. “You must not bear malice against me, Miss Dunbar, for stealing your room-mate. I did not know that she was at Westover, so I made arrangements to room alone, but now I must put in my claim. My right is the prior one, for I have known her so much longer.”
Constance had been talking against time. She wanted Margaret to leave the room with her load of small articles. There was just one word that she intended saying to these girls on the subject they were discussing; then she intended to have the matter closed forever, so far as she was concerned.
Abby Dunbar herself gave the opportunity for the desired remark, just as Margaret passed from the room.
“Are you actually in earnest? I did not believe you could mean it! Have you asked her to room with you? Of course, we understand that you did it in a charitable spirit, and because you are sorry for her position here, since she has been found out, but–”
“Excuse my interrupting you. I have asked Miss Hamilton to room with me because her companionship will be a pleasure. I had to coax rather hard before she would consent. There is just one other thing to be said. Our sitting-room is common property, and I shall never care to see anyone there who is at all discourteous to Margaret!”
With that she turned away and picked up a pile of Margaret’s books. She had madea telling speech and she knew it. Constance could not be unaware of the influence she exerted socially, by means of her mere name. The girls would not wish to shut themselves out from all the privileges of her room, and there would be no more open acts of aggression so far as Margaret was concerned. Of that Constance felt assured. At the same time it was certain that Margaret would be subjected to many petty slights and snubs and wounds. But she would have to endure those, and her nature was too fine to allow of her growing bitter because of them.
There was gossip and much quiet talk, but Constance Van Gerder’s determined stand put an end to open insults and recriminations. Two days later, there was another subject for gossip, also, for Margery Ainsworth had been readmitted to college on “probation.” Such a thing had rarely been known before, and the stigma of disgrace attaching to such students as were on “probation” was great. It was understood that they were under special surveillance, and the many privileges accorded other students were withheld from them. Of course, Margeryhad come back as a freshman. The girls had heard that Mr. Ainsworth was intensely angry with Margery, and had declared that she must stay at Westover until she graduated, if it took a hundred years. She was to room with a freshman, and, judging from her expression, she had come back reluctantly and rebelliously. Dolly and Beth talked it over, and wondered what good end Mr. Ainsworth could hope to effect by sending her to college, when she was in such an obstinate frame of mind.
“At least, she has diverted the attention of the girls from Margaret, and, Beth, I like her more than I ever supposed I could. Didn’t she preside with dignity at our class meeting last evening, though? No one would ever have guessed how some of the girls stormed at her only a few days ago.”
“’Tis fortunate that she has Constance Van Gerder as a loyal friend. To tell the truth, I think that she is relieved now. There is nothing for her to hide or cover up. We must see Constance about the class elections, though. They will come in two days, and I am positive that Abby Dunbar will tryto prevent Margaret’s being elected chairman of the executive committee. That is a position which has always been given to the retiring president, and certainly Margaret has done enough for our class to deserve the honor. It would be a shame to slight her.”
“Yes, it would. Constance is in her room now, I think, and Margaret will be at the literature lecture. Come, we will see her at once.”
Constance was very glad to promise her help to the girls, and the work commenced that day in earnest. They soon found that Abby and her particular coterie had been hard at work for some little time, but Margaret’s supporters labored with a will, and went to their class meeting with hopeful hearts.
“I am anxious about two offices,” Dolly confessed to Miss Van Gerder as she walked down the hall toward the room in which the meeting would be held. “I want to see Beth elected president, and I want Margaret made chairman of the executive committee.” Some way, rather to their own astonishment, Beth and Dolly found themselves on very intimate terms with Miss Van Gerder. Thethree, with Margaret, made a very congenial quartette.
Mary Sutherland felt at a disadvantage before this girl, whose father’s name was a world-wide synonym for wealth. She was never at her best when Constance was present. She utterly refused to go to her room, and Dolly finally lost all patience with her.
“You must have a very low opinion of yourself, Mary Sutherland, if you think that a few dollars are worth more than you are. Can’t you see what kind of a girl Constance Van Gerder is? Of course, she knows that she is immensely rich, but she is not silly. She doesn’t dress extravagantly, or load herself with jewelry. In fact, there are a dozen girls here, who spend more on dress in the course of a year than she does. Her gowns fit to perfection, and they are always made in good taste, but she doesn’t care for such things. She is forever doing quiet, lovely things for other people. Your aunt told me that she thought Miss Van Gerder would take up college settlement work. Whether she does or not, she will not be a useless butterfly of fashion.”
“There is no use my trying to know herbetter. We have nothing in common. I am poor and she is tremendously rich.”
“You mean that you are vilely proud, Mary Sutherland. If you were not so proud, you would see how gracious and lovely Constance Van Gerder is. It is just as much a crime for a poor person to be proud as for a rich one. Why can’t you be yourself, and enjoy Constance and her bright ways as Beth and I do?”
But Mary refused to listen to reason, and drew more and more into her shell. College had only been in session a short time now, but it was evident that Mary was going to isolate herself, despite all that Dolly and Beth could say, and despite Dolly’s exasperated appeals to Professor Newton. There was a strong vein of stubbornness in Mary, and much as she loved her aunt, she declined to argue this matter with her. “The girls had been good to her last year, because Dolly had been compelled to room with her, but she was not their kind, anyway, and she wasn’t going to force herself in where she was not wanted.”
Professor Newton and the girls had givenup the effort in despair, and Mary was left to gang her ain gait. The sophomore elections had been deferred a little for one reason and another, and it was now the end of the third week.
If Margaret’s friends had worked hard in her behalf, the opposition had been working hard, also, and before the meeting had advanced far, Dolly began to lose heart.
Whenthings were fairly under way, Dolly nominated Beth for the presidency. Half a dozen other nominations were made, but the result was very satisfactory to Beth’s friends, as she was elected by a large majority.
Constance was made vice-president without opposition, and the rest of the balloting went smoothly enough until the executive committee was reached. Then Constance made her first little speech, nominating Margaret for the chairmanship, and putting forcibly before the class, the good work that she had done as president, and “for which,” Constance concluded with significant emphasis, “we want, most assuredly, to show our gratitude now, in the only way possible.”
Abby Dunbar was immediately nominated by Grace Chisholm, and then, as no other names were mentioned, the balloting proceeded.
Beth felt more nervous over this, thanshe had when her own name was up for the presidency. Constance had done her best, and there was no doubting her influence; still, the balloting was secret, and might not some of the girls leave Constance under the impression that they would vote for Margaret, and now, when the time had come for the voting, cast their ballots for Abby Dunbar? Constance would not be able to tell what girls had kept faith with her, and what ones had not.
“I would never do for a politician,” Beth confided to Dolly in a whisper. “I am too nervous and excitable; see how cool Constance is, and Margaret, too.”
“Yet Margaret will feel it bitterly, if she is defeated under these circumstances; and as a class we ought to be ashamed of it if shebedefeated, for it will be an open acknowledgment of the fact that we care more for dollars and cents, than we do for genuine worth and ability. I shall be ashamed of the sophomores if Margaret is not elected.”
The class had lost some of its members, and had gained several new ones, so that at this time it numbered an even three hundred.Even Margaret, with all her self-control, began to show the strain before the tellers appeared.
The chairman was an enthusiastic admirer of Margaret, and her voice vibrated triumphantly as she tried to announce in a perfectly calm tone, the result of the voting:
There was a moment of utter silence, then Constance started the applause which grew and grew until it became an actual uproar. Even those who had voted against Margaret, now, with few exceptions, joined in the applause, for Constance’s keen eyes were sweeping the room, and not a girl present wished to be ranged in open opposition to her. It was she, and she alone, who had carried the day for Margaret.
Margaret realized the fact, and, while she was grateful, she felt stung and hurt. Constance found her in tears when she went to their room sometime after the meeting had dispersed. Tears, with Margaret, were a rare thing. Constance knew what they meant this time, although she affected not to.
“You see, Margaret, that you were elected,despite your declaration that you would not be. Aren’t you ashamed of the little faith you had in your friends?”
“It was your friends who elected me, Constance, not mine. I am in no danger of making any mistake on that point. Do you suppose that I do not know how you have been working for me?”
“What of that?”
“If you had been as poor as I, how much influence would you have had? I am not ungrateful to you–please do not think that–but I have been treated to such a succession of slights all of my life, that I cannot help feeling a wee bit bitter. I was not elected tonight because of any gratitude or liking that the girls have for me, but merely because you–Constance Van Gerder, who will one day be one of the richest women in this country–have chosen to befriend me, and so asked those girls to vote for me. If it were not a cowardly thing to do, I should go away from here to some other college. I would take care to proclaim my full history the very first day I was there, and I would not attempt to make a single friend.”
“That would be a cowardly thing to do. Next year neither Abby Dunbar nor Grace Chisholm will be here. They will never manage to get through the sophomore work. They are the only ones who are your active enemies, and they are such, merely through spite and jealousy. You are a good student, Meg; do your best for your mother’s sake and for mine, too. I want you to carry off some honors on Commencement Day.”
“I will do my best for you; you have done so much for me that I could not refuse to try, at least. I think I shall get permission to run down and see my mother for an hour. Professor Newton may think it too late to go, but I would like to tell Mother that I was elected. I should not have let you propose my name at all, if it had not been for her.”
“Then you would have been a big simpleton. I am positive, Meg, that Professor Newton will not listen to your going out tonight, but you can telephone to your mother. Will not that do?”
“And have Abby Dunbar and all the other girls hear me? I couldn’t possibly. If the telephone were not just inside the receptionroom where the entire college can hear what is said, I might do that.”
“I see. Don’t trouble yourself. It is out of the question for you to go to town tonight at this hour. Professor Newton would consider you crazy to ask, but I can appreciate your mother’s anxiety, and I am going to telephone to her. It will give me great pleasure to do this, and the more of Abby’s friends that are within hearing, the better.”
“You are very kind, but–”
Constance had gone unceremoniously, and Margaret’s expostulation was cut short.
As Constance had predicted, the little tempest created by the revelation of Margaret’s family history soon died down. Of course, it was only Constance’s strong influence which brought about this result; none of the girls wished to cut themselves off absolutely from her acquaintance, and Constance made it very plain that those who showed the least discourtesy to Margaret were no friends of hers.
Poor Mrs. Hamilton had been almost heartbroken when she first learned of Margaret’s troubles, but Margaret herself had made aslight as possible of them, and the fact that she was now Constance’s room-mate, reconciled Mrs. Hamilton to everything.
The sophomore year was generally conceded by both the students and the faculty, to be the hardest year at Westover College. While the girls whom we know managed to have some good times in a quiet way, they found themselves, for the most part, kept very busy.
Mary Sutherland drew more and more into her shell, as Beth and Dolly grew more intimate with Margaret and Constance. Dolly complained of it repeatedly to Professor Newton. “Mary acts as if we did not have love enough to go around. Just as if Beth and I couldn’t care for her now, because we like Margaret and Constance Van Gerder. I wonder if she thinks that love is measured out by the quart, Professor Newton, and that Beth and I have exhausted our supply?”
“You must be patient with my stubborn little niece, Dolly dear; she is her own worst enemy. Neither you nor I can say anything to her now. She is wilfully losing lots ofenjoyment out of these college days. She has made no new friendships, for she thinks too much of you and Beth to do that. In truth, she is jealous and unreasonable, but she fails to see it. She might as well demand that God’s blessed sunshine shall illumine only a few places. Some things grow by the using. Our power of loving is one of those things, Dolly. God’s love reaches all the infinity of His creatures, and yet its depths are boundless. It is immeasurable. Sometime Mary will learn this.”
At Thanksgiving time Dolly carried Mary off to her own home. Beth could not be persuaded to stop this time. She thought of last year, when she had had no desire to go home at all, and could not but marvel at the difference in her feelings now. In truth, Beth was making up for all those years of repression and coldness, by the wealth of love which she lavished upon her own people. And they returned it a thousandfold. Dearly as Mrs. Newby loved her own dainty little Nell, she knew that this child was no dearer to her than was Beth.
Mary had gone home with Dolly half underprotest, but Dolly would listen to no excuses, and Professor Newton urged her so strongly to accept the invitation, that Mary finally went. Dolly felt confident that this brief visit would serve to clear away the clouds that had come between them; but in this she was disappointed. Some way she saw little of Mary, after all. Did Fred monopolize Mary’s society–the two were certainly together a great deal–or, had she enjoyed Dick Martin’s indolent witticisms and quiet humor so much that she had neglected Mary? She felt rather uneasy about it, and promised herself to atone at the Christmas holidays. But when the Christmas holidays came, there were new plans for all.
Margaret was to go home with Constance for the entire vacation. She had demurred about leaving her mother, but Mrs. Hamilton had insisted strongly that she should go for the whole time. “It is not as if you were where I could not see you every day, dear. Of course, I would love to have you with me, but just now I would much rather have you visit Miss Van Gerder.” And Margaret, seeing that her mother really meant what she said,yielded the point, and went home with Constance.
There was to be a house party at Constance’s for the last week of the vacation. Dolly and Beth were invited as well as Hope Brereton and Hazel Browne.
“I don’t know Miss Sutherland well enough to ask her to be of our party,” Constance said to Dolly. “She is so far away from home that I would like to ask her if I felt better acquainted. I don’t see how you ever came to know her. She absolutely repels all advances.”
Dolly laughed, although she was inwardly provoked with Mary. What good times she was cheating herself of! Could she not recognize genuine goodness when she saw it? What made Mary so blind and obtuse in these days? “Mary is just like a chestnut-burr on the outside,” she replied now to Constance. “Sometime she will get tired of pricking all of her friends, and then everyone will see what a genuine heart of gold she has.”
“I hope she will shed the burr soon, for her own sake. People do not like to get stungand pricked when they approach her in a friendly manner.”
“I have preached until I am tired. We must leave her alone now. I am going to take her home with me, and Mother intends keeping her after I go on to your house. She is quite in love with Mother, and is as nearly demonstrative with her, as it is possible for Mary to be with anyone. We shall be a very congenial party at your house, Constance. You always do manage to get together people that suit.”
“I am afraid that you will take back that remark when you know of one more invitation that I want to give today.”
“What in the world do you mean?”
“Don’t be stunned, but I want to have Margery Ainsworth. Shall I?”
“The idea of asking us whom you shall invite to your own home! How absurd!”
“But you don’t like Margery.”
“I hadn’t known that you did either,” Dolly said frankly.
“I have felt a little sorry for her lately. We have seen more or less of each other all our lives; we both live in New York, and aschildren we went to the same kindergarten, and we have seen each other with some frequency during all the in-between years. Just now Margery is not having an easy time. Instead of being a junior, as she would have been in the ordinary course of events, she is only a freshman, but I have learned that she is doing extra work and has taken some extra examinations. She hopes to come into our class as a full sophomore after Christmas.”
“I wonder what has roused her so. She was never a student in any sense of the word, last year.”
“She knows that her father is earnest in his determination to have her complete her course here, and so she is resolved to get through as quickly as possible. She has lost one year, but there is no reason why she should lose two. She is discovering unsuspected capabilities for study in herself; you must have noticed that she takes no recreation and has no friends. She is settling down into a mere ‘grind.’”
“Margery Ainsworth, of all people!”
“It is strange. She does not love studyany better than she once did, but she has an indomitable perseverance when her will is aroused. Just now she is determined to get through college as soon as possible, and to maintain a good standing. I cannot see why Mr. Ainsworth is so resolved that she shall graduate from here. She is an only child, and her mother is an invalid. He must have some weighty reason for sending her off, when she would be such a comfort to her mother.”
“It must hurt her pride fearfully to be under constant supervision, not to be able to go where other girls go, and to feel that she is not trusted.”
“It is hard, most certainly, but Margery brought all that on herself. One cannot do wrong without meeting the penalties for it, in some way or other, even in this life. But if she succeeds in making the sophomore class, she will come into it with a clean page turned. I happen to know that the faculty means to give her a chance to wipe out old scores.”
“And you want to help the girl? Well, you don’t suppose that any of the rest of uswould be so mean-spirited as to make objections? If you think that, you had better withdraw our invitations.”
“Don’t talk nonsense, my dearest Dolly,” Constance said indolently. “I am too fatigued to argue with you.”
“Then come and have a walk, Con. Beth is working away at some problem in her advanced trigonometry that it would make me ill even to read over. I have come to have an added respect for Beth this year, when I see how deliberately she picks out all the mathematical courses. It would not be possible for me to do that. It tasks all of my mathematical resources just to keep account of my own allowance.”
Con laughed. “You excel Beth in some other things, so that you may consider yourself even. By the way where is Margaret? I would like her to go with us.”
“We might look into the library. She may be there,” and Dolly made a mental note of Constance’s unfailing watchfulness and care for her room-mate.
As they drew near to the library, it became evident that Margaretwasthere. The otheroccupants of the room were Abby Dunbar and her immediate coterie of half a dozen friends. For the most part, Abby had preserved a haughty coldness toward Margaret, although she indulged in petty meannesses and flings at her, whenever she imagined that she could do it without Constance’s knowledge. She had no intention of cutting herself off absolutely from Miss Van Gerder’s acquaintance.
Today, however, she had just chanced to learn of the house-party at Constance’s home. She was not invited, and Margaret was! She was so full of wrath and indignation, that she forgot her usual caution. She commenced talking to her friends in a tone which would easily reach Margaret, and she contrived to put all the bottled up venom of the past term into her words. To all appearances Margaret heard not a syllable.
Just as Constance and Dolly approached the library, Abby turned, not seeing them, addressing a remark directly to Margaret.
Margaret turned toward her, a quiet scorn in her brown eyes. “Miss Dunbar, if youwere unaware of some things when you invited me to your house, we are certainly quits, for I have since learned facts concerning your family which would have prevented my ever putting a foot inside your house had I known them before.”
Shelooked steadily at her classmate for a moment. Constance and Dolly had paused in the doorway. Margaret did not need their assistance. Something in Margaret’s tone made Abby recoil with a sudden, inexplicable apprehension. Yet, after all, what could that girl say to hurt her–Abby Dunbar?
“I believe that by this time you are all rather well posted on my family history. Consequently you know that my father was a West Point cadet, and but for a useless accident, caused by a drunken acquaintance, he would, in all probability, be alive today, and be an officer in the regular army. His health was ruined, his hopes in life destroyed, and himself and my mother forced into menial positions, because an acquaintance to whose home he had been invited, was too drunk to manage a yacht, and too drunk, also, to let anyone else take the management in his place. The boat capsized, as you know. The only person injured was my father. Ihad rather today,” and Margaret’s voice rang out clear and strong, “be his daughter–the daughter of an honest servant–than be what you are–the daughter of a man whose drunken folly wrecked the life of as good and noble a father as ever lived.”
There was a silence that made itself felt. “How dare you? It is not true! you know it is not true!”
“I am not in the habit of telling falsehoods or of making statements about which I am not sure. Suppose you ask your father about the matter? He will, perhaps, enjoy telling you of it. Until a week ago, neither my mother nor I knew who your father was. You may be sure that, if I had known, there would have been no inducement strong enough to take me inside your home.”
Margaret turned to leave the library, and all her auditors became aware then, that Constance and Dolly had been standing in the doorway. Constance spoke a few low words to Margaret, took her arm, and, with Dolly following, walked down the hall.
Abby watched them a moment, and then burst into a flood of tears. In her heart shehad a terrible conviction that Margaret’s story was true. She must write and ask, not her father, of course, but her older brother.
She remembered what a dread her father had of yachts, and how fearful he had been lest her brother should come to use liquor as freely and as carelessly as many college boys do. He was a charitable man–very charitable, and what was it that she had once heard him say, when her mother had mildly remonstrated against a piece of benevolence that seemed actually prodigal in its lavishness? Surely he had said something to the effect that there was one debt which he could never hope to pay, now, in this life, and that he must atone, if possible, in other directions. Her mother had seemed to understand, and had said no more.
She must write to her brother that night, and tell him the whole story; no, not quite all. She need not say anything about her recent treatment of Margaret, for she had an instinctive feeling that Raymond would disapprove her conduct in emphatic terms.
She hurried to her room with a few petulant words to her friends, and scribbled off a lengthy and not over-coherent letter to her brother.
She waited for the reply anxiously. It came in an unexpected form. There was a note from her brother, to be sure, but her own letter he had handed directly to their father, and the answer was from Mr. Dunbar. Margaret’s story was true. Hamilton was not an uncommon name by any means, and he had never surmised, when he talked with his daughter’s friend during the past summer, that she was in any way related to the man whose life he had practically ruined.
Hamilton had disappeared from West Point; he had tried to trace him in vain, for he had been told by the congressman to whom Hamilton owed his appointment, that the lad was friendless and penniless. He had left no stone unturned in his search, but the result had been fruitless. It was his fault, alone, that Margaret’s father had been forced into such a humble position in life. Hamilton had possessed the brains and power to make himself a name in the army; but all of his tastesran in that one direction, and when he found himself forced to leave West Point, there was practically nothing to which he could turn. He was glad to learn that Mr. Worthington had been generous to the Hamiltons in his will, and he was also glad that his own daughter had acted the part of a friend toward Margaret. It was something for which he felt peculiarly grateful. He wanted Abby to be sure and bring both Margaret and her mother home for the coming holidays. He was writing to them by the same post, and Abby must add her persuasions to his.
The letter made Abby most uncomfortable. Why had she written home anything about Margaret? During the last days of school, she watched anxiously to see if either Margaret or Constance would broach the subject. Nothing was said, and Abby was compelled to wait until she reached home to learn that her father’s invitation had been briefly declined, Margaret stating that she had already accepted an invitation for the holiday season, and that her mother did not feel equal to going among strangers alone. No word of comment was offered further, though Abbyknew that her father had written a long letter full of remorse and grief.
They discussed it the evening after Abby’s return. “I am going to see Miss Hamilton in New York next week,” Ray announced decidedly. “That letter does not sound like her one bit. You can’t go, Pater, because of that unlucky fall you got on Wednesday, but you may trust me not to make a botch of the affair. I was charmed with Miss Hamilton last summer, but that letter is evidently written under some sort of constraint. It is no reply to yours.”
“I cannot blame her in the least, Ray, for feeling bitter toward me.”
“Perhaps not,” Raymond said regretfully. “Still I intend to see her. You have no objections, Father?”
“No. The matter cannot drop here, and for the present I am unfortunately tied to the house.”
“I would not go if I were you, Raymond,” Abby interposed. “It will give her a chance to snub us.”
“I don’t understand you, Abby; I thought that you and Miss Hamilton were warmfriends. You haven’t gushed about her as much this term as formerly, but I did not know that you had quarreled.”
“We are not as good friends as we were. I am dreadfully disappointed in her. She is not the girl I had supposed her.”
“It is rather odd that you didn’t tell us something about this in your letters. Miss Hamilton seems to be good enough for Miss Van Gerder, even if she is not for you. I intend to see her, Abby, and that is all there is to the matter.”
It was with no comfortable feelings that Abby saw him depart for New York on the next Tuesday. Thursday brought her a short note from him.