CHAPTER VII.DEFYING THE POWERS.
Both Fraulein Kronenberg and Dr. Kitchell announced tests for the week before the Christmas holidays. The Seniors and Middlers arose early and stayed up late to study. The hour for physical exercise was cut as short as Miss Brosins would permit. There was little time for anything that was purely social. There was no lingering in the hall after meals for chats. Carrie Hirsch was the only one who had leisure after Miss Kronenberg’s announcement. She laughed as the girls hurried back to their rooms. “German is not so hard,” she explained. “What one thinks one must say—so simple are the words. Not at all can I understand why they all look so like a frown because FrauleinKronenberg gives them but one little story to write in the German.”
“Suppose Miss Berard should give you a simple little story to write in English,” returned Mary Wilson. “Wouldn’t you look like a frown, too?”
Miss Hirsch shrugged her shoulders. “It is true you speak; but English is so different.”
Elizabeth felt the excitement attendant upon an examination. Had she paused long enough to analyse her feelings, she would have discovered that she had no fear of failing. She had read German with Miss Hale since she was old enough to read. The Middlers’ work in German had been to her like an old tale, oft repeated. But the attitude of the other students and the novelty of an examination made her nervous. She was hurrying back to her room one morning when Anna Cresswell stopped her.
“You have the next period vacant?” she asked.
“Yes, but Wednesday is the German examsand I have been putting in this hour cramming for them.”
“Then I’ll do you a good turn by taking you away from them. Come, let us take a turn up and down the campus. We’ll walk fast enough to keep warm. There is something about which I wish to talk to you.”
Half-reluctantly, Elizabeth went with her.
“I feel as though I had been neglecting my work in regard to you,” began Miss Cresswell, as they crossed the campus. She tucked Elizabeth’s arm under her own. Elizabeth felt that something confidential was forthcoming. She was yet unused to the friendship of girls and any act on their part out of the ordinary made her feel shy and awkward.
“But you were with Mary Wilson, so I knew you were in good hands, although I should have come to you at once. But we had so many new girls this semester that I could not get around sooner. I’m presidentof the Young Woman’s Christian Association at Exeter, you know?”
“Yes; or at least, I suppose so. I have always attended with Mary. You preside, so I took it for granted that you are president.”
“It was the public meetings you attended. We have some private conferences where no one is present but active members. We do this that we may talk over the needs of some special student, and act accordingly. Of course, we can not publicly diagnose such cases.”
“Yes?” said Elizabeth, feeling that Miss Cresswell had paused to give her an opportunity to reply.
“Part of our work is to interview each new student; to ask them to join us in active Christian work. We need you in the Association and I believe you will find, after you join us, that you have been needing us.”
“Perhaps so. There can be no doubt of the latter, but as to helping you, I am afraidI couldn’t do that. Not that I am not willing, but I do not believe I am capable of it.”
“We’ll risk that,” with a smile. “I’m confident that you can do much. The mere coming out and announcing yourself as a member of a band of Christian workers will have a good influence.”
“Perhaps it will. To be frank with you, Miss Cresswell, I’ve never thought about such a thing. At home I studied a great deal, helped mother some, and rode about the country hunting flowers with Miss Hale. I never gave a thought to the matters that you talk of.”
“Then you are not a Christian?” The question was asked in surprise.
The girl looked with a puzzled expression into the serious face of her companion. Then she spoke slowly, as though the idea was for the first time presented to her.
“I do not know. I—never—really thought anything at all about it. You seeit was just this way at home, Miss Cresswell. My father and mother with Miss Hale were all the friends I had. We could not go to church; the miners are foreigners, and when a priest was sent to them for services, he spoke Polish, or Slav, or Russian, so there was little use of our going. Miss Hale had a Mission Sabbath School for the younger people. I asked once to help her. She refused for some reason. She did not tell me why. At home, we read our Bible and have family prayers. Mother taught me a great deal, and I committed a great deal to memory; but as to my being a Christian, I never really thought of it before.”
“Then let us think about it now,” was the response. She drew Elizabeth’s arm closer within her own. Slowly they retraced their steps from the dormitory door to the end of the campus walk, Miss Cresswell talking earnestly all the while. She spoke well on her subject; she believed what she said; and she was honest and simple-mindedin her efforts to present these truths to Elizabeth’s mind.
The hour passed quickly. With a start of surprise, they heard the bells for the dismissal of classes.
“Is it possible? I did not think the time was half gone. We must hurry. You will think on this matter, Elizabeth?”
“Yes; I will think of it. I can’t promise more. It seems so serious. I do not wish to undertake anything without being sure of what I really think and am.”
They parted at the door, Miss Cresswell hurrying off to Dr. Kitchell’s class-room, while Elizabeth, with tardy step and disturbed mind, went to recite to Miss Brosius.
The same evening Elizabeth accompanied her roommate to a special meeting of the Young Woman’s Christian Association. It had become a custom of the school to hold such meetings before the tests began, but Elizabeth, not knowing this, waswholly ignorant of the object of the meeting.
Miss Cresswell as president went through the preliminaries of calling the Association to order. She was tactful and discreet. Landis, to whom public speaking was a coveted opportunity, immediately arose and moved forward to the front of the room where she could face her audience. She carried her head and shoulders unusually erect. Her clear, decisive manner of speaking indicated that she believed the mere stating of her opinion on the subject would forever settle it in the minds of her hearers.
“I regret,” she began, “to make such a statement before the new students at Exeter lest they form a bad opinion of us in general. But at Exeter Hall, as in other schools, all pupils do not have the same ideals and views of what is right and wrong. It often happens, and has happened here within our knowledge, that a student who would scorn to take any propertywhich was not hers, has taken another’s ability, has actually copied work and handed it in as her own. This has happened and may happen again. So we,” the speaker so placed her emphasis that “we” became the dominant spirit of the school, “determined to do as we did last year,—call together the members of the Association to take means to prevent a growth of the spirit of deception.”
Landis walked back to her place. Her manner had been forcible and had impressed many.
The president asked for expressions of opinions from the members. The remarks were not slow in coming. Immediately a half-dozen girls were upon their feet demanding recognition.
Mame Welch in her droll, half-humorous way was the first to speak.
“I do not see why we should trouble ourselves because from one to a half-dozen girls among several hundred see fit to copyand carry ‘ponies’ into class. If they are satisfied, let them do it.”
“But, oh,” cried Carrie Hirsch, not waiting for permission to speak. “It is not fair. It may be so, one girl must hard work; another girl, work not hard. Yet one mark, oh, so high,” she raised her hands to express how high the grades of the delinquent might be, “because into exams she carry papers, or from her friend’s paper she learn all she wishes to write.”
The other members could not suppress a smile as Carrie talked. She was so entirely in earnest, so carried away by her own enthusiasm, and so badly mixed in her English.
It was Landis who again responded. “That is not the spirit in which we have undertaken this correction. To the real student it matters little who may have higher marks than herself. She studies for the love of study and the hope of improvement. Neither should we say that it is nothing to us whether a half-dozen othersare dishonest or not. It is something to us—or it should be. We have banded ourselves together as a set of Christian workers, and it should be something to us whether a half-dozen among us are not doing the honorable thing.” There was a war-like tone in Landis’ words. Whatever weakness there was in the girl’s character, she possessed an overwhelming desire to have people believe that she stood on the side of right. She was ambitious to be thought an earnest Christian girl. She would have left no stone unturned to have been a leader among the girls. She was willing to cajole, to cater in order to win friendship. Yet in spite of all her efforts, she influenced only a few. Among those few were none of the stronger girls of Exeter. Min, to be sure, followed close at her heels, and one or two others; but they were not of the brighter lights from either an ethical or intellectual point of view.
“It is our duty to go to them—to talk to them,” she continued.
“And have a hornet’s nest buzzing about your ears,” exclaimed Mary Wilson, disregarding all the rules of Parliamentary law which Dr. Kitchell tried to teach them. She was on her feet, moving to the front, talking as she went. “I really haven’t the self-assertion to walk up to strange students and tell them the error of their ways. To me, that course of action savors too much of conceit of our own virtues. The best we can do is to be perfectly honorable about the examinations. Our mental attitude toward dishonorable proceedings ought to have its influence without our going about making ourselves odious by preaching.”
Someone else took up the discussion. It grew warmer and warmer. Landis maintained the position she took in regard to personal work. In the excitement, several talked at once, forgetting that there was a chairman to whom a certain courtesy was due. Miss Cresswell used the gavel untilits sound drowned out the voices. For a time peace reigned again.
During the discussion, Elizabeth leaned forward. This was intensely interesting to her. Her lips were parted, and a flush caused by excitement came to her cheeks. She looked with admiration upon those girls who could talk in public. In her eyes they were gifted creatures more richly blessed than the ordinary mortal like herself. Hitherto she had been fond of spunky little Mary Wilson. Now she admired and looked up to her as one must look up to a person of talents.
Miss O’Day, dressed in a striking gown of imported material, sat by the side of Elizabeth. She must have heard the discussion, yet she made no show of interest, but seemed like one whose thoughts were far off.
Suddenly a sprightly little girl sprang up and made herself heard: “I think we had a fairly good plan last year—the plan we copy from the old Greeks—the plan ofostracising. Girls have copied and cheated in examinations ever since examinations were known, and I suppose they will do so as long as examinations are held. There are always a few whose bump of moral responsibility isn’t developed. I agree with one of the previous speakers this far—let those half-dozen who desire to cheat, cheat. Let it be nothing to us. But I would add this much more—letthembe also nothing to us. Let us ostracise them entirely, cut them off from all invitations.”
At her words, the discussion grew warmer again. It was as though she had let loose a swarm of bees. Parliamentary law went to the winds. For a moment, every common courtesy seemed to be forgotten. Her suggestion met with some favor. To the surprise of Elizabeth, Mary Wilson was its strongest advocate. Landis now also favored such a course, and consequently Min Kean. In her heart, Elizabeth disapproved, but she was not able to speak as the others had done. She couldonly sit silent. Popular opinion was in favor of the ostracism. Then another question was brought up. Landis, again, was the one to set the ball rolling.
“But how are we to find out who does the cheating?” she asked. “If I should see some member of my class make use of a “pony,” am I expected to cut her dead, while all the others are friendly with her as usual? I do not see how she would be much affected by that, for she may care very little whether I ignore her or not.”
At this Landis sat down but she bent forward and spoke to Min Kean. After a little encouragement, Min arose. She was not quick to grasp ideas even at her best. Now, as she stood upon her feet, she lost what little confidence she possessed, stumbling over her words, looking helplessly toward Landis for encouragement.
“We think—that is, I think—that wouldn’t count much—I mean just having one person ostracise you. I think it should be told—I mean if we found anyone cheating,it should be told. Then we would get together and tell that person why we are going to act toward them like we are going to act. That’s only fair. That’s the way they treat criminals in court.”
Then she retired to let Landis take her place. “The speaker has said in part what I had in mind. I do not wish my hearers to believe I would countenance news-carrying or tattling. That, of course, is beneath any right-minded person. But we must—I say wemust,” Landis raised her finger impressively, and repeated the words as though she intended at that moment to root out the evil with tooth and nail, “Wemustget rid of this deceptive tendency. It will have an evil effect on Exeter. Perhaps, in time, destroy the school altogether.”
“Umph! Exeter has stood a hundred years and will stand a hundred more in spite of anything Landis may do,” said Miss O’Day, in a low tone to Elizabeth. This was the first she had spoken since they had entered the meeting.
Landis continued, “For that reason, I think it would be wise if one sees another cheating, to lay her name before the members and let them act accordingly.”
Elizabeth could never tell how it happened. Months after, in thinking the matter over, she could not justify herself in the thought that she had acted from honorable motives or for any good purpose. She had acted upon the impulse of the moment. This last speech was opposed to all Elizabeth’s natural instincts. Her finer feelings were hurt, and like a child she must cry out.
“The idea is preposterous,” she exclaimed, getting upon her feet and walking to the front of the room. Indignation had turned to crimson the pink which enthusiasm had brought to her cheek. “No good ever comes of using a wrong to make another wrong right. Like every one else, I think there should be no dishonor in examinations. But to my mind, tale-bearing is equally dishonorable. Consider the ideaof our pledging ourselves to run and tell every one else when we find that someone has done wrong. I refuse to do such a thing even though I know it would stamp out every bit of cheating in our examinations.”
At this came a burst of applause, so that for the time Elizabeth was forced to discontinue. She saw Mary Wilson’s eyes beaming upon her. Not another face could she distinguish. When the applause ceased, she began again. It was evident she was thinking of nothing else but the injustice and littleness of the act they had been contemplating. She felt deeply, and talked as she felt. For a moment she was an orator worthy the name.
“For this ostracising, I have as little sympathy. A student does wrong, and you would cut her off immediately from all who are trying to do right. If your purpose is to assist those weaker than yourself, you will never succeed by such a method. If every one was to be ignored for every bit ofdeceit they practice, I fancy most of us would be going around by ourselves, rather lonely.” A smile passed over the faces of her hearers—a smile of amusement and surprise, for hitherto Elizabeth had been a quiet, shy girl, almost timid in company; and now upon the instant she had taken the lead. She had come forth alone when all the odds were against her, boldly declaring her opinion, and fearless to defend the course she believed to be right.
“If we are going to begin this reformation, let us begin aright—at the root of the evil, and carry it through all its branches. Let us begin with the students who leave us under false impressions—telling us romances of their adventures, their powerful friends, their finances.” To do Elizabeth justice, the girl with traits like these she mentioned had no definite form in her mind. She was only supposing a case. Yet, unconsciously, her mind had received during these months of school an idea of such a person. She could not embody these qualitieswith a human form. Yet more than one of her hearers recognized these as characteristics of one who had been foremost in the denunciations of dishonest examinations. “Let us begin with the girls who turn out their lights and go to bed long enough to deceive Mrs. Schuyler, and then get up again to prowl—and to the girl who gets a book from the town library and allows a dozen to read it before it is returned, when she has pledged herself to withdraw the books for her use alone.
“We, as a set of Christian girls”—the expression was new to Elizabeth, but it does not take one long to become a Christian—“would ostracise any who did not come up to our standard of ethics! I say here so that you may all know where I stand”—her cheeks grew scarlet, and in the energy of her emotions she emphasized strongly—“I will not declare the name of anyone who ‘ponies’ in class, nor will I cut them from my list of acquaintances. I shall let them know I despise such deception, but I shall treatthem exactly as I have always treated them.”
With that she went back to her place. To her surprise Miss O’Day was not there, having slipped away at the beginning of Elizabeth’s talk.
The girls applauded heartily. Someone else arose to speak. Elizabeth’s enthusiasm having died suddenly away, she felt very limp and weak. She was surprised at her own boldness.
“I’m going back to our room,” she whispered to Mary Wilson. “I feel all gone.”
“Yes, I can sympathize with you. I felt just so the first time I got up there. But you’ll get over it and enjoy a scrap. I’ll go with you. A cup of cocoa will set you up all right.”
Together they quitted the hall. As they crossed the campus, Mary continued: “I was afraid you were going to get personal, and hurt someone with your words; but you stopped just in time. One does not mind if the whole set gets a slap in the face; butone does not like to be the only one. It is just this way about the girls you meet at Exeter. We are like a little town. There will be a few whom you will like well enough to be genuine friends with; then there’s a whole long line who will be pleasant acquaintances; and some whom you will care nothing at all about, although they will be good people in their way. Some here have opinions of their own, and some are mere copies. A girl must learn to think for herself, and express her opinion without getting angry or giving personal hits. The moment that is done, Miss Cresswell will request the guilty one to leave the room.”
“Will they do it?”
“Do it? Haven’t you learned that people generally do as Anna Cresswell suggests? She’s a very poor girl—too poor to come to Exeter. But her influence over the younger set was so marked that they say Dr. Morgan makes it worth her while to stay.”
“What does she do? She seems very quiet.”
“She is—and isn’t. She’s quiet when it’s necessary to be. As to what she does, if you keep your eyes open, you’ll find her visiting the homesick girls, introducing the shy ones, tutoring the backward ones.”
“It is a wonder she did not call upon me earlier in the term then. I might be classified under all three heads.”
Mary tossed back her hair, and laughed. “But you had me, and when one has me to look after her she does not need even Anna Cresswell.”
“Especially when it comes to keeping rooms in order,” added Elizabeth.
“You haven’t forgiven me for that yet.”
“Yes; I have—long ago.”
“Well, you don’t need disciplining now. You are growing so particular that I’m almost ashamed of my own carelessness.”
Elizabeth replied earnestly. “Well, with me, I must be decided one way or the other.I think I am naturally careless. So I dare not give up to myself even a little bit.”
They entered their rooms as she was speaking.
“Just one cup of cocoa, and then we must get down to work. I’m afraid of Dr. Kitchell’s mathematics.”
“I’m afraid of everything. I never took an examination of any kind.”
“Dr. Kitchell is very fair; but he scares you to death weeks before. He is always holding exams up before you like a death’s head at the feast.”
The decided stand taken by Elizabeth caused no little discussion. The meeting adjourned without any definite action being taken. The only point gained by the discussion was opening the eyes of a few to the fact that their point of view might not be the only one. Many felt as Elizabeth. The matter was dropped for the time.
The examinations began early in the morning, running through several class periods. Elizabeth, provided with a motleyarray of examination paraphernalia, entered Dr. Kitchell’s class-room. The greater part of the class was already present, as were Dr. Kitchell and Miss Brosius. Dr. Kitchell was in the front of the room. Upon Elizabeth’s entrance, with a gesture of his hand, he waved her toward a seat in the middle row. It was not her accustomed place of sitting. She looked about her. There seemed to have been a general scattering. Each member of the class sat alone, isolated so far as the size of the room permitted. The reason for this Elizabeth did not understand, but attributed it to the eccentricities of an examination of which she had heard much. The examination questions, printed upon little slips, were handed to each student. Previously each young lady had been cautioned about providing herself with all necessary articles. Elizabeth had conscientiously heeded the caution. The top of her desk had the appearance of a department of a small stationery store.
She began her work. Dr. Kitchell walkedup and down the room, never once turning his eyes from them. Miss Brosius rubbed her eye-glasses, and seating herself at the end of the room, kept her gaze fixed upon the back of the students’ heads. Such scrutiny was not calculated to make one feel at ease. For one hour no sound save the moving of pencils was heard. Then Miss Brosius spoke. “I have a class the next period, Dr. Kitchell,” she said. “I can stay no longer.”
“Miss Worden will be here in one moment to relieve you,” was the reply. “She has a physical geography class in Room C. It will not detain her long.”
Even as he spoke, Miss Worden, out of breath with her hurry, entered and took Miss Brosius’ place, while that instructor hurried off to her class-room.
Elizabeth paused in her demonstration. Here was a problem new to her. Why could not Miss Brosius leave until Miss Worden came in, and why did Dr. Kitchell stride up and down, up and down, never foran instant removing his keen eyes from the class before him?
In the daily intercourse with her parents, she had asked questions freely. She did now as she would have done with them. As Dr. Kitchell passed her desk, she spoke to him:
“I could not help hearing what Miss Brosius said to you about leaving the room, and wondered what she meant.”
“It is impossible for me to see all the students. Unfortunately, I do not have eyes in the back of my head.”
Elizabeth met his glance with a look of surprise.
Dr. Kitchell then spoke more plainly. “I am quite determined there shall be no cheating in my classes. My students will pass on their own merits—or not at all.”
“And Miss Brosius then—” she paused, not feeling confident enough of the situation to put her feelings into words.
“Miss Brosius is here to assist me, and tosee there is no copying, no cheating done in the class.”
Now Dr. Kitchell was an excellent man, an able instructor, but he had a blunt way of expressing himself. Elizabeth’s face flushed and then grew pale. For one instant her lips quivered and her eyes filled. But she quickly controlled herself, and began putting together her papers. Arising, she was about to quit the room.
“Have you finished, Miss Hobart?”
“No, I have not.” Elizabeth spoke quietly. One could have no suspicion of the fire that lay smoldering beneath.
“Finish and hand me the papers before you leave the room. That has always been the rule at Exeter.”
“I do not intend to finish, or to hand in my papers.” Although she spoke quietly, her voice was heard over the class-room. Each student paused with uplifted pencil in her hand. For the most part, Dr. Kitchell was feared. Few would have dared oppose him.
“And why not, may I ask?”
“Because I will not stay and take an examination where we are treated as though we were criminals. Having a watch set upon us is an insult to every honest student in the class. Until I have proved myself to be either a liar or a thief, I insist upon being treated with respect. That is why I will not stay to take an examination under police supervision.”
Dr. Kitchell was a big man. Elizabeth looked so childish and little as she stood before him that he could not suppress a smile. He rather admired the spunky little lady who dared to express her opinion so freely. Yet discipline must be maintained. “You will report to Dr. Morgan,” he replied.
“I certainly shall,” was the rejoinder, as she quitted the room.
In this whirl of indignation and hurt pride, she entered her room and found Mary there.
“I was coming for you, Elizabeth,” she said. “Here’s a telegram for you.” Sheheld out the yellow envelope. “I hope there is nothing serious the matter.”
Elizabeth tore it open before Mary finished speaking, and read it quickly.
“It’s from father,” she said. “I do not understand it.” She handed the paper to Mary. “You know I was to start for home Saturday morning.”
Mary read it aloud:
“Do not start home. Letter follows. Every one well. Business reason for waiting.”
“Nothing to worry about in that. My father has often sent me just such word. Perhaps business calls him away. You see he says every one is well.”
“And he would not say that unless it were absolutely true,” said Elizabeth with conviction.
“You’ll have the letter by to-morrow’s mail. It’s something pleasant, depend upon it.”
“I hope so.” She sank down despondently into a chair and rested her head uponthe study-table. “I wish something pleasant would happen. This is ‘blue’ week for me. Yesterday I became excited and almost said too much, and to-day I rush madly in and mix up affairs in the math. exams. I told Dr. Kitchell what I thought of his method of conducting them.”
Mary’s eyes grew bright. They fairly danced in surprise at Elizabeth’s action.
“Why, even I would not have dared do that,” she said. “I have dared everything at Exeter but Dr. Kitchell. I would as soon think of going to Dr. Morgan and telling her that I do not approve of her method of conducting Exeter.”
“That is about what I will do next,” said Elizabeth dolefully. “When one begins anything like this, there is no telling where she will end. Oh, dear, I’ll be glad to get home where people know me, and don’t act as though they expect me to lie or steal.”
“No one thinks that here, Elizabeth. You’ve run up against a snag. We all have our blue days when we wish we were somewhereelse, and when we have a poor opinion of every one, ourselves included.”
“You never do.”
“Yes, often, but I found it didn’t pay to give up to them. Come, tell me all the trouble, and when it’s all told you may find there’s very little of it.”
“I wish I could think so. I’ll tell you, Mary, and then I’ll go and see Dr. Morgan. I’m to report immediately to her.”
She proceeded with her tale of woe. And although her listener was sympathetic, she laughed heartily during the recital.
CHAPTER VIII.MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES.
On going to the office, Elizabeth found that Dr. Morgan had been called unexpectedly to the city, and would not return for several days. She was disappointed, as she much preferred having the thing over and done with than hanging fire for several days. The girls crowded about her, expressing both admiration and criticism and offering advice until Elizabeth did not know whether she was a culprit or a heroine. The maddening part of it was that she must wait three days to find out. Her own opinion in regard to being “policed” into honesty had not changed. She felt confident of the support of her father in the position she had taken. She knew how, from the bottom of his heart, he abhorred any questioningof one’s honor. The more she listened to the talk of the other girls, the more indignant she was at the insult.
She was not one to give expression to her feeling in words only. After her remarks to Dr. Kitchell, the other girls did most of the talking while she listened, turning the matter over in her mind. She had her father’s way of straightening matters out. “If a thing is wrong, make it right—if you can,” she had often heard him say to Joe Ratowsky. Her four months at Exeter had taught her there were people of words and people of action. It was of the last-named class she selected her helpers. Landis was not to be considered. It is doubtful if she could have given a reason for the feeling that she would be of no assistance in a reform movement. It was merely intuition and could not be put into words. Min, too, who was but the shadow of Landis, was to be barred. There was enough to begin with—Anna Cresswell, Nancy Eckdahl, MaryWilson, Mame Welch, Nora O’Day, strange to say, and herself.
At the dinner table, Elizabeth passed the word around asking the girls to come to her room immediately at the ringing of the study bell. Some of the students were already packing to leave for the holidays; and after the midwinter examinations, no strict observance was paid to study hours.
Miss Brosius heard the invitation and smiled. She was learning to know Miss Hobart. After the experience of the morning, she felt these summonses might be followed by a declaration of war. Her position in regard to overseeing examinations was more distasteful to her than it could possibly be to any of the students. But from time immemorial such had been the custom of most schools. There must have been a reason for it. No doubt, it had been forced upon the instructors by the attitude of the students themselves. New conditions may have arisen, but the old law still held.
“There’s something brewing,” Miss Brosius said to Miss Watson as they quitted the dining-hall. “If I read the stars aright, Exeter Hall will be reformed before Dr. Morgan returns from the city.”
“She comes to-morrow.”
“Maybe. Reforms have started in less than twenty-four hours. The fuel has been ready for several years, waiting for someone to apply the match.”
“Who is doing that now?”
“Elizabeth Hobart, if I am not mistaken. Did you not notice the flash of her eyes and the message she was passing about to have the girls meet in her room?”
“Yes; but I thought it was nothing more than a taffy pull.”
“It is a deep-laid plot to reform us all. I must give her credit in the selection of her colleagues. She has picked those who will carry her plans through if they once see fit to accept them. Oh, no, don’t be alarmed,” as she noticed Miss Watson’s expression, “there may come some good from it; no evilat least, I’m sure. It may be a good thing to have them talk the matter over.” Then she related the events of the morning.
The girls did not know the reason for their being called together. Nora O’Day, to Elizabeth’s surprise, made no objections, Elizabeth having explained fully that it was not a social but a purely business meeting. Nora came in after the others had gathered. With a nod to them collectively, she took her place before the grate.
Elizabeth stated the reason of the gathering. She related the scene of the morning.
“You know I never was in an examination before,” she said. “You have no idea how it impressed me. To think of having two and three teachers in the room to watch us! Why, it seemed to me it was the most insulting thing possible.”
“That is because it is new to you. It really was not meant that way,” Miss Cresswell explained. “But you must bear this in mind—school life is just like outside life.There are some students who are dishonest. There’s no getting around that fact. And because of those few, we must all be put under surveillance.”
Elizabeth was not to be convinced. “I do not see why. I felt this morning in class just as I would if I had gone into Dr. Morgan’s room and she had immediately locked up her jewelry and her purse. Surely, the teachers themselves must have learned by this time who can be trusted and who can not! Suppose among the fifty girls in our room this morning, there were one or two who cheated. I think it would have been far better to allow them to go their way than have treated us all like criminals. What great difference would it make anyhow? They would be the only losers; and as to being watched, how is that going to make them any better?”
Mary Wilson shook back her hair. Her eyes were beginning to flash. As Elizabeth discussed the question, her enthusiasm grew.
“It makes them worse—far worse. Ifthere is anything in the world that would make me cheat it is being watched to see that I didn’t. I’d do it then just to prove that I could be sharper than they.”
They talked the matter over thoroughly, each one, with the exception of Nora O’Day, expressing herself freely. She sat silent; but her silence did not spring from lack of interest. She listened keenly to every word, and weighed it fully before she accepted it. Elizabeth wondered at her, for she was not naturally quiet. The others understood, and did not ask for her opinion.
Elizabeth had gained one point. The girls did not treat Miss O’Day with that studied formality which is more galling than open neglect as they had on former occasions. Mary, in particular, was quite agreeable, and Nora herself more at ease.
Elizabeth had a plan for this reformation. She was not attempting the impossible. Her idea was practical. Even Miss Cresswell declared it to be wise.
“Will you be secretary, Miss Cresswell,and jot down our plan?” asked Elizabeth.
She moved to the study-table, taking up a pencil and tablet ready for work. “What have you decided to do about talking with the girls?” she asked. “Will you call them all together and present this plan to them?”
“No; my idea was to interview each one by herself. It seems so much more personal than talking to them all together. I think they will take it so; I’m sure I should.”
“Perhaps so. But it will mean a great deal of work.”
“We will not object to the work,” said Mary Wilson, “if we only succeed in carrying out Elizabeth’s idea.”
The details were further discussed. Then they began to apportion a certain section of the Hall for each girl to visit.
“We need not visit them all. Each new recruit will be put to work to get other signers.”
Anna Cresswell continued her writing. At last she spoke. “We will have this runoff on the typewriter. Listen. Is this just what you intend, Elizabeth?” She read:
“We, the undersigned students of Exeter Hall, not being contented with the present method of conducting examinations, believing that it casts reflections upon the honor of each student, do hereby suggest a means of reformation. We pledge ourselves individually to receive no assistance at such times. Furthermore, we will quietly but firmly discountenance among the students any methods not strictly honorable.
“We respectfully request Dr. Morgan to have examinations conducted hereafter without the presence of instructors, we pledging ourselves that under our supervision they will reflect credit both upon Exeter and the students.”
“You have done it beautifully. My father could not have done it better,” said Elizabeth. “Now we must get the names of the best girls at Exeter.”
“Don’t have a name of one who does not mean to keep her pledge,” advised MissCresswell. “Fifty people in earnest are worth more than an hundred, half of whom veer with the wind.”
“But as Anna Cresswell said before,” began Mary Wilson excitedly, “there will be some who will cheat. What will we do?”
“Most of the girls will agree to this, and the majority can be depended upon to do as they pledge themselves. If you keep your eyes open in the class-room, you can soon discover who has no sense of honor. These may be taken quietly aside and spoken to. If they transgress a second time, we will make the affair public.” This advice came from Miss Cresswell.
At the close of her speech, Mame Welch arose. “If we don’t scatter soon, the lights will be out, and I do not care to wander down the staircase in the dark. I did it once, and I had a bump on my head for a week. One’s head is not the best ‘lighting’ place. Come, Carrie Hirsch, you go my way. If the lights go out, we will fall together.” Slipping her arm through Carrie’s,and bidding the others good-night, she quitted the room.
Miss Cresswell and Nancy followed, with cheery words to encourage Mary and Elizabeth for to-morrow’s work. Nora O’Day remained. She was quite a striking figure as she stood leaning with her elbow against the mantel, looking down into the grate. As always, she was richly dressed. Her loose robe of crimson silk, her dark hair hanging in a single braid, and her olive-tinted skin presented a glowing picture.
“I waited until the others left,” she said, “to speak to you alone, Elizabeth. I have been wishing to for several days, but you were so busy, I didn’t feel that I could take you from your work.”
“You can talk together here. I am going into the bedroom,” said Mary, making ready to disappear.
“No; I do not wish to disturb you. I intended asking Elizabeth to walk to the end of the hall with me. I love to sit on the window-seat at the landing. The campus isbeautiful in the moonlight. No one is disturbed by the talking there. I think Mrs. Schuyler will not mind late hours to-night, since we go home to-morrow. Will you come, Elizabeth?”
“Yes; wait one minute until I get a wrap. That window-seat is full of drafts, I know. I have sat there before.”
Taking down a golf cape, she wrapped it about her. “Come,” she added, drawing Miss O’Day’s arm through her own. “We will be night-hawks until Mrs. Schuyler finds us. Don’t lock the door, Mary. I’ll slip in later.”
A delightfully broad window-seat filled with cushions was at the turn of the stairway, where one had a view of the campus, now snow covered, beautiful in the glimmer of the moonlight.
Arranging the cushions here to her satisfaction, Nora began the conversation. “I heard you talk in the meeting yesterday, Elizabeth, and I wish to thank you.”
“Why thank me? I only said what I thought.”
“Some girls might have done considerably less—to my knowledge some of them have. You ran the risk of being unpopular, and yet you were willing to take that risk because you were my friend. That is the kind of friendship that is worth having. You do not know how pleased, how glad I was! Why, I had not been so happy for months.”
“Take the risk! Because I was your friend! Well, I must be awfully dense, but really, Nora, I haven’t the faintest idea what you are trying to say.”
“You say that to escape my thanks—my gratitude. That is just your way. I might have expected as much. You do a generous, noble deed and then slip away from the gratitude that follows.”
“Well, it may be my way, and it may not. I do not know what you are talking about. If I have done what you call a generous, noble deed, this is the first I have heard of it.If your mind is still upon the speech I made yesterday, you may be sure there was nothing noble about that. Why, you have no idea how angry I was! It made me so indignant to hear some explain what should be done and how. I didn’t approve of their plans at all, so the only thing left for me to do was to say what I thought about it. It is news to me that being indignant and expressing yourself rather—well, rather forcibly, is noble and generous. Though,” dryly, “I’m rather glad it is so, for it will be easy for me to be noble in that fashion.”
Miss O’Day turned to look closely at her.
“Really, Elizabeth, upon your honor now, did you really not have me in mind when you made that speech yesterday?”
“I did not, ’pon honor,” she laughed softly. Then she gave Miss O’Day’s hand a very loving squeeze to mitigate the hurt her next words might contain. “It may be rather galling to your pride, but I did not even think of you after we entered the meeting, although I suppose you must have beensitting by me. I was all eyes and ears for what was going on up front. I suppose you might add all mouth, too, for that matter.”
“Then you did not know what happened here last spring? Did none of the girls tell you?”
“I do not know what particular happenings you have in mind. But no one told me of anything that was unusual.”
“Well, then I shall tell you. It was not until last evening that I felt that I could talk the matter over with any one; but after you spoke as you did, I knew that you could understand. I have borne it so long without letting any one know, that it is a relief to think I can tell just how I feel, and how awful these months at Exeter have been. I might have gone somewhere else this fall and not returned at all; but when I thought it over, it seemed to me that it would be cowardly to slip away like that. Last summer I wrote to Dr. Morgan that I intended returning. Then I made up my mind that I would stay here until I made every oneat Exeter, from Dr. Morgan down to the dining-hall girls, respect me.” She paused, then added slowly, “But I don’t seem to have made much headway yet.”
There was a sadness in the girl’s voice which embarrassed Elizabeth. She knew that Nora O’Day was sad—had known that for a long time. She would have been glad to express sympathy, say some word which would show confidence in her companion, but she was so new to anything of this sort that she could do nothing but sit silent and look at her. Then she suddenly blurted out:
“I do not know what you are talking about! Tell me, Nora. I fancy it is not really so bad as you think.”
“I do not see how it could be worse! Perhaps, when I tell you, you will feel as the others. If you do, don’t stop to explain and give all kinds of reasons for your actions. Just walk off, and I will understand that you do not care to be friends with me. I’ll not be surprised. Indeed, Irather expect you to do just that thing—yet, after all, you have always been different.”
“Well, wait until I walk off. I may not. Dollars to doughnuts, the ‘awful’ thing you have done is partly imaginary. The girls are all right, and I lovesomeof them; but even that doesn’t make me think them infallible. But you sit there and hint about a dreadful deed you have done. One would think you were little less than a female Captain Kidd. There are cold chills running up and down my spine now, so begin quick and tell me everything.”
“Last spring, I went into the geometry examination and took my book with me. I copied three theorems, letter for letter, right out of the book. A half-dozen girls saw me—Mary Wilson, Nancy, Carrie Hirsch, Mame Welch, Landis and Min. That same evening the girls met and decided to cut me. We had all been friends.”
“I didn’t think Mary or Nancy wouldhave done that—meet and talk over such a matter in public.”
“They didn’t. Neither would Carrie or Mame. I know none of the four were at the meeting. I think each one of them thought the matter over and decided for herself. They speak to me at the table and any school meetings. But that is a small part of Exeter life. They never enter my room or invite me into theirs.”
“Who called the meeting of the girls?” Elizabeth asked.
“Min Kean. I am positive of that, because the notices were signed by her. That is required before any meeting can be held. Then Dr. Morgan knows where to place the responsibility.”
Elizabeth gave a gesture of disapproval. She was about to speak, but checked herself, deciding that criticism was not going to help the matter. Nora noticed her hesitancy, and attributed it to a different motive.
“What were you going to say? Do nothesitate. I deserve criticism. I am not afraid to hear it.”
“It was not a criticism of you. I was thinking that Min Kean must have been a different person last term. I could not, although I stretched my imagination to its limit, think of her as taking the lead in any matter. What part did Landis take?”
“I do not know. No one ventured to tell me and I would not ask. Before we left Exeter in the spring, she came into my room and stayed almost all of the evening. She told me that she thought the girls acted impulsively, and that she had done what she could to have them wait and consider; but she was only one among many. She was acting-president at that meeting.”
“Where was Anna Cresswell?”
“She was here, but would not attend. Someone told me that she refused to be present.”
“Did Landis ever come again to see you?”
“Very often this semester. I have all the essays and papers my mother wrotewhen she was a student at Arlington Seminary. People who remember her say she was gifted in that line. Of course, I do not know, for she died when I was a baby. Somehow I never had the heart to read them, although I have saved every one. Landis says they are quite good, and Landis, you know, has some ability in that line herself.”
Elizabeth smiled. She was beginning to understand. New ideas burst upon her suddenly. Unconscious of the meaning which might be given to her words, she said, “I’m just beginning to learn that it is not wise to take any one’s opinion in regard to any one else. You must trust and be deceived, and trust again, and just go on learning people for yourself. Did Anna Cresswell never come to see you? I should think she would since she refused to attend the meeting.”
“She came twice to ask me to go somewhere with her, once for a drive, and once to walk, but each time I refused. I felt sobadly that I had no courage to go out among the girls. It was only a few weeks before we were to go home. I made up my mind to bear it until school was out and then not come back. But I changed my mind, as I told you. She did not ask me again. But I did not expect that for she is very busy with extra work. I suppose she thinks it has all passed away. She doesn’t run about to spreads and high teas, so she may not have discovered that I am not among those present.”
Elizabeth was silent. She was thinking, not of her companion’s misdeed, but of the part which Landis had probably played throughout the affair. Nora waited for her to speak, but receiving no answer put another question.
“Are you, too, so disgusted with me that you can’t bear to speak of it?”
“No,” slowly, “I am not disgusted. But you certainly cannot expect me to grow enthusiastic or praise you for cheating. I don’t like dishonesty in any form; but I donot know that it is my place to pass judgment on you. I may criticise that in you; someone else will find something to criticise in me. One thing I am quite sure of. You are sorry as sorry can be that you did it; and you will never be guilty of cheating again, even if you know that you will fail and be compelled to go to school here forever.”
“You may be sure of that. One experience ended such methods for me.” There was nothing conciliatory in her tone.
“I will be honest with you, Nora. I am disappointed in you, but I’m glad you told me. You may be quite sure this will make no difference in our friendship.”
Much to Elizabeth’s surprise, Nora, instead of replying, began to sob, and it was some minutes before she could speak.
“I appreciate this, Elizabeth. I know I did wrong, and I have spent six months in being sorry. Yet I do not believe I should be censured so much as some of you if you had done the same thing. That is ratheran odd thing to say, I know. But when I tell you all, you will understand just what I mean. My mother died when I was a few weeks old. She belonged to an excellent family, an only child. Somehow,” the girl hesitated. It was difficult to explain without seeming critical of one parent. “Somehow, my father never cared much for what mother cared for most. He could not see anything wrong in cards, and wine-parties, and things like that. When mother died grandmother Loraine took me. But she did not live long. Then I went back home and lived with a housekeeper and the servants. Sometimes they were honest and sometimes not. Mrs. Gager took charge of me. She was a very clean old German woman and not afraid of work, but was not refined. She couldn’t even read. I am not complaining, for she was as good to me as she knew how to be. Nothing that I wanted was too much trouble. She was really my slave, and made every one around the house step when I spoke.
“I was a little tyrant. Father spent a great deal of time from home, for he was a very busy man. But he spoiled me, too. I had but to stamp my foot and he would let me do what I wished. He really could not deny me anything, and he doesn’t yet. You see, I am the only person in the world he has left, and he thinks I am simply wonderful.” She laughed lightly. “I am always amused when I hear him talk to anyone of me. It is nice, though, to have someone think of you in that way. He is wholly sincere. He really believes I’m the brightest and most attractive girl at Exeter.
“Mrs. Gager used to drink occasionally. At such times—I must have been eight years old—she told me what excuses to make to father for her and how to keep Maggie, the second maid, from knowing it. Strange as it may seem, this old woman was my ideal. I never hesitated to carry her false messages, and there was a constant succession of small deceptions. When I was able to fool Maggie, I was commended.
“When I grew older, I met a great number of business men—some of whom were my father’s traveling salesmen. And they always made a point of telling how sharp they had been in their transactions. I know now that they were merely dishonest. I do not know whether father approved or not. They told these stories to entertain me and not when they were talking business with him.
“Father was always liberal. I spend as much as I wish. He never questions how, but gives me whatever I ask.
“The conversation I generally heard among the servants—and I spent most of my time with them—was comments on how well or how shabby some one dressed, and how much or how little money people had. Don’t blame my father for neglecting me. He hired the best servants he could, and did what he thought was for my good. I was well clothed and fed; and Mrs. Gager took excellent care of my health. His business kept him away from home. And, anyhow,men are not like women. A woman would have understood at once that I needed something more than clothes and food.”
“I suppose we can’t understand,” said Elizabeth. “I’m sure I don’t. I’ve always had a mother. She would punish me severely if I ever deceived anyone. My father, too, and Miss Hale are the same way. I was brought up to abhor anything that wasn’t honest. But, then,” reflectively, “I’ll not take much credit to myself for that. It was my training—not me. If I’m truthful and all that, it’s because of my parents.”
“If I saw no great harm in copying my examinations, it is because I had been no better taught. It was a surprise to learn that every one looked upon such an act with contempt. I would not do such a thing now. Not because I wish to curry favor with Mary Wilson and her set, but because I feel it is wrong.” She paused awhile and then continued, “I think I am like the Loraines in that. My mother would have died before she would have knowingly done wrong.”
The talk went on in this strain for some time. Then Elizabeth spoke of the telegram she had received and suggested that she might not go home during the holidays.
Nora offered her sympathy. She did not ask Elizabeth where she lived. It was odd that, although they were friends, she never knew until the close of school that Joseph Hobart, the expert mining engineer of Bitumen, was Elizabeth’s father.
It was quite late when Elizabeth slipped back into her bedroom. She undressed in the dark so that she might not waken her roommate, but Mary heard her and spoke:
“You and Nora O’Day must have had a great deal to say. ‘Smiles’ has trotted down here twice inquiring for you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I was not your keeper. I think she will interview you privately to-morrow.”
“Mary, there’s something I wish to ask you. At the meeting last spring, who wasit that worked up the case against Nora O’Day?”
“Landis. Why?”
“Oh, because. Are you sure? Did she take an active part?”
“Yes; I’m sure. Could you imagine a meeting where Landis didn’t put in her oar? Why do you ask?”
“Because I wanted to know.”
“An excellent reason,” was the sleepy response.
“But, Mary—” But Mary was asleep.