CHAPTER XIBEHIND SCENES
The girls were hardly in a mood to return to their fudge-making, so Stella produced a box of Whitman's chocolates and the group settled down to eat them and discuss the events of the past exciting half hour. Polly squatted upon the rug and with her uninjured arm hauled about half of Tzaritza upon her lap. Tzaritza was positively foolish in her ecstatic joy at being restored to favor.
"Poor Tzaritza, you got into trouble because I lost my temper, didn't you? It was a heap more my fault than yours after all."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with Tzaritza. It's the Sturgeon. Hateful old thing! I just hope Mrs. Vincent gives her bally-hack," stormed Rosalie. "Suppose we did shout and screech? It's Saturday night and we have a right to if we like. But what under the sun did Mrs. Vincent want of you, Peggy?"
"Oh, nothing very serious," answered Peggy, smiling in a way which set Rosalie's curiosity a-galloping.
"Yes, whatdidshe want?" demanded Polly, turning to look up at Peggy.
"Can't tell anybodynow. You'll all know after Thanksgiving," answered Peggy, wagging her head in the negative.
"Oh, please tell us! Ah, do! We won't breathe a living, single word!" cried the chorus.
"Uh-mh!" murmured Peggy in such perfect imitation of old Mammy that Polly laughed outright.
"Aren't you even going to tell Polly?" asked Rosalie, who had arrived at some very definite conclusion regarding these friends, for Rosalie was far from slow if at times rather more self-assertive than the average young lady is supposed to be.
For answer Peggy broke into a little air from a popular comic opera running just then in Washington and to which Captain Stewart had taken his little party only a few weeks before:
"And what is right for Tweedle-dum is wrong for Tweedle-dee," sang Peggy in her sweet contralto voice, Polly following in her bird-like whistle.
The little ruse worked to perfection. The girls forgot all about Peggy's "call down," as a summons to Mrs. Vincent's study was banned, and had a rapture over Polly's whistling andPeggy's singing, nor were they satisfied until a dozen airs had been given in the girl's very best style. Then came the story of the concerts at home, and Polly's whistling at the Masquerader's Show when Wharton Van Nostrand fell ill, and a dozen other vivid little glimpses of the life back in Severndale and up in "Middie's Haven" until their listeners were nearly wild with excitement.
"And they are to have a house party there during the holidays, girls. Think of that!" cried Helen.
"Honest?" cried Lily Pearl, leaning forward with clasped hands, while even Juno, the superior, became animated and remarked:
"Really! I dare say you will choose your guests with extreme care as to their appeal to the model young men they are likely to meet at Annapolis, for I don't doubt your aunt, Mrs. Harold, is a most punctilious chaperon."
"Juno's been eating hunks of the new Webster's Dictionary, girls. That's how she happens to have all those long words so near the top. They got stuck going down so they come up easy," interjected Rosalie.
Juno merely tossed her head, but vouchsafed no answer. Rosalie's Westerngaucheriewas beneath her notice. Juno's home was at the Hotel Astor in New York City. At least asmuch of "home" as she knew. Her mother had lived abroad for the past five years, and was now the Princess Somebody-or-other. Her father kept his suite at the Astor but lived almost anywhere else, his only daughter seeing him when he had less enticing companionship. A "chaperon" did duty at the Astor when Juno was in the city, which was not often. Consequently, Juno's ideas of domestic felicity were not wholly edifying; her conception of anything pertaining to home life about as hazy as the nebula.
"Perhaps if you ever know Tanta you'll be able to form your own opinion," answered Polly quietly, looking steadily at Juno with those wonderfully penetrating gray eyes until the girl shrugged and colored.
Stella laughed a low, odd little laugh and came over to drop upon the rug beside Polly, saying as she slipped her arm around her and good-naturedly dragged her down upon her lap:
"You are one funny, old-fashioned little kid, do you know that? Some times I feel as though I were about twenty years your senior, and then when I catch that size-me-up, read-me-through, look in your eyes, I make up my mindI'mthe infant—not you. Where did you and Peggy catch and bottle up all your worldly wisdom?"
"Didn't knowIhad so much," laughed Polly,"but Peggy was born with hers, I reckon. If I have any it has been bumped into my head partly by mother, partly by Aunt Janet, and the job finished by the boys Juno has been referring to. It doesn't do to try any nonsense withthatbunch; they see through you and call your bluff as quick as a flash. We were pretty good chums and I miss them more than I could ever miss a lot of girls, I believe. Certainly, more than I missed the Montgentian girls when I left them."
"Nothing like being entirely frank, I'm sure," was Juno's superior remark:
"That's another thing the boys taught us," replied Polly imperturbably. Just then the bell rang for "rooms."
"There's Tattoo!" cried Polly. "If I get settled down at Taps tonight I'll be doing wonders. Miss Allen has bandaged up my arm as though Tzaritza had bitten half of it off. Come on, 'Ritza. Peggy, you'll have to get me out of my dudds tonight. Good-night, girls. Sorry we didn't get our fudge made. Maybe if I'd let Helen alone you would have had it," and with a merry laugh Polly ran from the room, all animosity forgotten.
"What did she mean by 'Tattoo' and 'Taps,'" asked Natalie of Peggy.
"The warning call sounded on the bugle for the midshipmen to go to their rooms, and thelights out call which follows. Have you never heard them? They are so pretty. Polly and I love them so, and you can't think how we miss them here. Polly always sounded them on her bugle at home. You've no idea how sweetly she can do it," answered Peggy as she walked toward her room beside Natalie.
"Oh, I wish Icouldhear them. I wonder if mother knows anything about them," cried Natalie enthusiastically. "Do you know, I think you and Polly are perfectly wonderful, you have so many original ideas. I am just crazy to know what mother wanted of you tonight. I'm going to ask her. Do you think she will tell me?"
"Why not? The only reason I did not tell was because I felt I had no right to. If Mrs. Vincent wants the others to know she will tell them, but you are different. I reckon mothers can't keep anything from their own daughters. At least Polly and her mother seem to share everything and I know Mrs. Harold is just like a mother to me."
The girls separated and Peggy and Polly were soon behind closed doors discussing Mrs. Vincent's private interview with the former.
The following Tuesday was Hallow E'en and where is your school-girl who does not revel in its privileges? Mrs. Vincent, contrary to MissSturgis' preconceived ideas of what was possible and proper for a girls' school, though the latter never failed to quote the rigid discipline of the school which had profited by her valuable services prior to her engagement at Columbia Heights, was given to some departures which often came near reducing Miss Sturgis to tears of vexation.
One of these rules, or rather the lack of them, was the arrangement of the tables in the two dining-rooms. In the dining-room for the little girls under twelve a teacher presided at each table as a matter of course, but in the main dining-hall covers were laid for six at each table, one of the girls presiding as hostess, her tenure of office depending wholly upon her standing in the school, her deportment, ability and general average of work. At the further end of the room Mrs. Vincent's own table was placed, and the staff of eight resident teachers sat with her. It was a far happier arrangement than the usual one of placing a teacher at each table and having her, whether consciously or unconsciously, arrogate the entire conversation, interests and viewpoint to herself. Of course, there are some teachers who can still recall with sufficient vividness their own school-girl life to feel keenly the undercurrent of restraint which an older person almost invariably startswhen thrown with a group of younger ones, and who possesses the power and tact to overcome it and enter the girl-world. But these are the exceptions rather than the rule, and none knew this better than Mrs. Vincent. Consequently, she chose her own way of removing all possible danger of impaired digestion, believing that the best possible aid to healthy appetites and perfectly assimilated food were untrammeled spirits and hearty laughs. So she and her staff sat at their own table where they were free to discuss the entire school if they chose to do so, and the girls—for, surely, "turn-about-is-fairplay"—could discuss them. It worked pretty well, too, in spite of Miss Sturgis' inclination to keep one eye and one ear "batted" toward the other tables, often to Mrs. Vincent's intense, though carefully concealed amusement.
And now came Hallow E'en, and with small regard for Miss Sturgis' prejudices, plump in the middle of the school week! At the end of the last recitation period that afternoon when the whole school of one hundred fifty girls, big and little, had gathered in the chapel, for the working day invariably ended with a few kindly helpful words spoken by Mrs. Vincent and the reading of the thirty-fourth Psalm and singing Shelley's beautiful hymn of praise, Mrs. Vincent paused for a moment before dismissing herpupils. Many of the older girls knew what to expect, but the newer ones began to wonder if their sins had found them out. Nevertheless, Mrs. Vincent's expression was not alarming as she moved a step toward them and asked:
"Which of my girls will be willing to give up her afternoon recreation period and devote that time to the preparation of tomorrow's work!"
The effect was amusing. Some of the girls gave little gasps of surprise, others, ohs! of protest, others distinct negatives, while a good many seemed delighted at the prospect. These had known Mrs. Vincent longest.
"Those of you who are ready to return to the main hall at four o'clock and work until five-thirty may be released from all further obligations for the evening, and the attic, laundry and gymnasium will be placed at your disposal for a Hallow E'en frolic and—"
But she got no further. Rosalie Breeze, sans ceremony, made one wild leap from her chair and rushed toward the platform. Miss Sturgis made a peremptory motion and stepped toward her, but Mrs. Vincent raised her hand. The next second Rosalie had flung herself bodily into Mrs. Vincent's arms, crying:
"Oh, if every schoolmarm was just exactly likeyouI'd never, never do one single badthing to plague 'em and I'll let you use me for your doormat if you want to!"
A less self-contained woman would have been staggered by the sudden onslaught and felt her rule and dignity jeopardized. Mrs. Vincent was of different fibre. She gathered the little madcap into her arms for one second, then taking the witch-like face in both hands kissed each flushed cheek as she said:
"I sometimes think you claim kinship with the pixies,—you are half a witch. So you accept the bargain? Good! Have all the fun you wish but don't burn the house down."
By this time the whole school had gathered around her, asking questions forty to the minute.
Mrs. Vincent looked like a fly-away girl herself in her sympathetic excitement, for her soft, curly chestnut hair had somewhat escaped its combs and pins, and her cheeks were as rosy as the girls. Mrs. Vincent was only forty, and now looked about half her age.
Polly and Peggy crowded close to her, Natalie shared her arms with Rosalie, quiet, undemonstrative Marjorie's face glowed with affection, while even Juno condescended to unbend, and Lily Pearl and Helen gave vent to their emotions by embracing each other. Stella, tall,stately and such a contrast to the others, beamed upon the group.
But Isabel put the finishing stroke by remarking with, a most superior smile:
"O Mrs. Vincent, what a perfect darling you are! Don't you perfectly dote on her girls?Ifell in love with her years ago when I first met her and I've simply worshiped at her shrine ever since."
"Rats!" broke out Rosalie, and Mrs. Vincent had just about all she could manage for a moment. Her emotions were sadly at odds. Polly's laugh saved the day and deflected Isabel's scorn.
"I really do not see what is amusing you, Miss Howland; I am sure I am only expressing the sentiments of my better poised schoolmates."
"Oh, we all agree with you—every single one of us—though we are choosing different ways of showing it, you see. If Peggy and I had been down home we'd probably have given the Four-N yell. That'sourway of expressing our approbation. The boys taught us, and we think its a pretty good way. It works off a whole lot of pent-up steam."
"What is it, Polly?" asked Mrs. Vincent.
"I'm afraid you would have to hear the boys give it to quite understand it, Mrs. Vincent, butI tell you it makes one tingle right down to one's very toes—that yell!"
"Can't you and Peggy give it to us on a small scale? Just as a sample of what we may hear some day? Perhaps if the girls hear it they can fall in. I'd like to hear it myself."
Polly paused a moment, looking doubtfully at Peggy. That old Naval Academy Yell meant a good deal to these two girls. They had heard it under so many thrilling circumstances.
"We will give it if you wish it, Mrs. Vincent, though it will sound funny I'm afraid from just Polly and me. Maybe though, the girls will try it too after we have given it."
With more volume and enthusiasm than would have seemed possible from just two throats, Peggy and Polly began:
"N—n—n—n!A—a—a—a!V—v—v—v!Y—y—y—y!Navy! Navy! Navy! Navy!Mrs. Vincent! Mrs. Vincent! Mrs. Vincent!"
the ending being entirely in the nature of a surprise to that lady who blushed and laughed like a girl. But before she could escape, Polly had sprung to the platform and as a cheer leader who would have put Wheedler of old to shame was crying: "Come on!"
The girls caught the spirit and swing with a will and the room rang to their voices.
Clapping her hands and laughing happily Mrs. Vincent ran toward the door only pausing long enough to say:
"Four P. M. sharp! Then from seven to ten 'the goblins will get you if you don't watch out!'"
"Let Polly sound 'Assembly' at four. Please do, Mrs. Vincent. It will make us come double time," begged Peggy, running after her and detaining her by slipping her arm about her waist.
"Assembly? I don't believe I quite understand."
"On her bugle, you know. It's so pretty, and we did that way at home if we wanted to bring the bunch together in a hurry."
"Well, I'm learning something new every minute, I believe. Yes, sound your bugle call, Polly, and be sure I shall be on thequi viveto hear it. Before we know it we shall have agirls'military school."
"Oh, wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if we only could and all wear brass buttons!" cried Rosalie.
"I think some of the discipline would be splendid for all of us, and especially the spirit of the thing," answered Stella. "The trouble with most girls lies in the fact that they don'tknow how to work together. There isn't much class spirit, or coöperation. Maybe if we tried some of the methods Peggy and Polly seem to know so much about we'd come closer together."
"Team work, I guess you mean," said Polly quickly. "It means a whole lot."
Sharply at four the staccato notes of "Assembly" rang across the terrace as Polly sounded the call upon her bugle. The girls came hurrying from every direction and the ensuing hour and a half, usually free for recreation, was cheerfully given over to study. Dinner was served at six and at seven-thirty the revels began.
At Peggy's suggestion a part of the afternoon had been devoted to devising costumes out of anything at hand, for a fancy dress party had been hastily decided upon. As a result of this some unique and original Hallow E'en sprites, nymphs, dryads or witches foregathered in the big laundry, "cleared for action," Polly said, and two or three aroused little cries of admiration.
Peggy was a dryad. She had rushed away to the woods on Shashai to return with her mount buried from sight in autumn leaves. The dark, rich reds of the oaks, the deep yellow of the beeches, the dogwood's and maple's gorgeous variations and the sweet-gums blood redmingled in a bewildering confusion of color. Stripping the leaves from the twigs she proceeded to sew them upon a plain linen gown, and the result was exquisite, for not a vestige of the fabric remained visible, and Peggy's piquant, rich coloring peeped from a garment of living, burning color. She herself was the only one who did not fully appreciate the picture she presented.
Polly's costume was a character from one of the children's pages in a Sunday newspaper. The entire costume was made of newspapers, with "The Yellow Kid" much in evidence, Polly's tawny hair lending itself well to the color scheme.
Natalie, who was fair as a lily, had chosen "sunlight," and was a bonny little sun goddess. Lily Pearl, after a great deal of fuss and fidgeting had elected to go as Titania, and Helen essayed Oberon. Juno, who was very musical, made quite a stately Sappho. Little, sedate Marjorie was an Alaskan-Indian Princess, and Rosalie rigged up a Puck costume which made her irresistible. Isabel chose to be Portia, though that erudite lady seemed somewhat out of place among the mythological characters. But Stella was a startling Sibyl, with book, staff, and a little crystal globe (removed from her paper-weight) in which to read horoscopes. Theothers went in all sorts of guises or disguises.
In the laundry they found all properties provided. To tell of all which took place would crowd out too much which must follow. Of course apples were bobbed for, a hat pin was run through them to prod the seeds for the true lover's heart, and they were hung upon strings to be caught in one's teeth (the apples,notthe hearts) if luckily one did not get one's nose bumped as they swung back. Melted lead was poured through a key into cold water to take the mysterious form which would reveal the occupation, or profession, of the futureHe, and Lily Pearl was thrown into an ecstasy by havinghersputtering metal take very distinctly the form of a ship.And that house party "bid" not even hinted at yet!
They walked downstairs backward, looking into a mirror to discover the particular masculine face which would fill their live's mirrors, though, unhappily some of the potency of the charm was lost because it could not be done upon the witching stroke of midnight.
Dumb cakes were made,hisinitials pricked in the dough, while in perfect silence the cakes were baked on the laundry steam dryer, joy and rapture descending upon the fortunate she if the initials did not vanish in the baking. A ball of twine was thrown out of the kitchen window,but when the thrower hurried out to find the ardent one who had so promptly snatched it up and fled, she discovered Horatio Hannibal Harrison beating a hasty retreat. He had been playing "Peeping Tom" and the ball had caught him squarely upon his woolly crown. A doubtful conscience did the rest.
A dozen other tests followed until the girls' occult knowledge reached the limit. Then they danced in the Gym to music furnished by Mrs. Vincent, who ended the prancing by sending in a huge "fate cake," a big basket of nuts, a jug of sweet cider and some of Aunt Hippy's cookies.
Cutting the fate cake ended the Hallow E'en frolic. Lily Pearl was thrown into a flutter by finding the ring in her slice. Juno turned scornful when a plump raisin fell to her share, Helen drew a tiny key from her piece, and the coin dropped into Rosalie's lap.
"Rubbish! I don't want riches. I want a handsome husband," she cried with refreshing frankness.
"I hardly think I would noise that fact abroad," was Isabel's superior criticism.
"No, I wouldn't if I were you, it would be so perfectly preposterous," retorted Rosalie.
Isabel made no reply, but took care that no one else discovered who had found the thimble.
CHAPTER XIICHRISTMAS AT SEVERNDALE
By a lucky chance Christmas this year fell upon Monday, thus giving the midshipmen either liberty, or leave, according to their classes, or conduct grade, from Saturday at twelve-thirty to Monday at five-thirty, when those enjoying the latter rare privilege had to report for duty in Bancroft Hall. Christmas leave for the first class was an innovation, which only those on first conduct grade might hope to enjoy. That there was the ghost of a chance of any member of the lower classes coming in for such a rare treat not even the most sanguine dreamed.But, and that BUT was written in italics and capitals, when Captain Stewart made up his mind to do a certain thing it required considerable force of will, stress of circumstances, and concerted opposition to divert him. But the outcome lies in the near future.
The excitement incident to the rescue of Columbine had barely subsided when a telegram brought Peggy the joyful news that CaptainStewart's ship, which had met with some slight accident to her machinery, was to be dry-docked at Norfolk and her father was to have two weeks' leave. TheRhode Islandwas to be in port at the New York Navy Yard, and this meant the forgathering of all who were nearest and dearest to Peggy and Polly; a rare joy at the holiday season for those connected with the Navy.
Consequently, this year's Yuletide was to be a red letter one in every sense, for Mrs. Howland and Gail, who had spent Thanksgiving in New York, would return to Annapolis for Christmas and, joy of joys! Constance, Snap, and Mr. Harold would come with them.
The telegraph and telephone wires between New York, Norfolk, Washington and Annapolis were in a fair way to become fused.
As many of the girls lived at great distances from Washington, the Christmas Recess began on the twenty-second. Captain Stewart had 'phoned to his party "Heavy marching orders, three P. M., Friday, Dec. 22, 19—." A wild flutter ensued.
The Thanksgiving holiday at Mrs. Harold's had been widely discussed at Columbia Heights and had stirred all sorts of emotions to their very centers. At Captain Stewart's request, Mrs. Harold had sent unique invitations to eachof the girls soon after their return to school. They were couched in the formal wording of an official invitation from a battle ship of the fleet and created a sensation.
Natalie, Stella, Nelly, Rosalie, Juno and Marjorie were invited. Lily Pearl's and Helen's attentions to Peggy and Polly having proved abortive, they contrived ways and means of their own to reach the Land o' Heart's Desire. Helen's old bachelor uncle, a queer, dull old gentleman, whose mind was certainlynotactive, and whom Helen could, figuratively speaking, turn and twist about her little finger, was persuaded to pass the holidays at Wilmot Hall. He knew a number of people in Annapolis, so the path to a certain extent was cleared for Lily Pearl and Helen, though they would have given up all the uncles in Christendom to have been included in that house party. But half a loaf is certainly better than no bread, and once at Annapolis they meant to make the most of that half. So it was with no small degree of triumph that they announced the fact that they, too, would be at the Christmas hop. Just how they intended to manage it they did not disclose. Sufficient unto the hour was to be the triumph thereof.
Captain Stewart arrived on Friday morning in time for luncheon and, guileless man that hehas already shown himself to be, promptly offered to "convoy the two little cruisers to Annapolis." His offer was accepted with so many gushing responses that the poor man looked about as bewildered as a great St. Bernard which has inadvertently upset a cage of humming birds, and finds them fluttering all about him. Lily and Helen were of a different type from the girls he knew best, but he accepted the situation gracefully and enjoyed himself hugely with the others, even Marjorie blossoming out wonderfully under his genial kindliness.
Isabel amused him immensely. Isabel was to spend her holiday in Boston,of course, but was to meet a friend in Baltimore who would chaperone the shrinking damsel safely to Mamma's protecting arms. Captain Stewart would escort her to the Naval Academy Junction, from which point it seemed perfectly safe to let her pursue the remaining half hour's journey to Baltimore unattended. In the course of the journey from Washington to the Junction Isabel elected to make some delayed notes in her diary, greatly to the secret amusement of Captain Stewart, who happened to be sitting just behind her.
"Making a list of all your dances and Christmas frolicings, little-er-ahem—, Miss?"
"Boylston, Captain Stewart. Oh, no, Irarely attend dances; there is so much that is instructive to be enjoyed while at home. I am making some notes in my diary."
"Don't say so. Find the outlook inspiring?" Captain Stewart laughed as he looked out upon the dreary landscape, for the afternoon was lowery, and certainly, the cheerless flat landscape between Washington and the Junction was far from thrilling.
"Oh, I am not depending upon my visual sight for my inspiration, Captain Stewart. Don't you think the study of one's fellow beings intensely interesting?'
"Yes, it's a heap cheerier inside the car than outside on this confoundedly soggy day," answered Captain Stewart, preparing to withdraw from an even more depressing atmosphere than that beyond the car windows, by turning to Rosalie, whose eyes were commencing to dance. But Isabel had no idea of foregoing an opportunity to make an impression, little guessing the sort of one she was in reality making.
"Yes, it is exceedingly damp today, but do you think we ought to allow externals to affect us?" she asked.
"Eh? What? I'm afraid you're getting beyond my bearings. Lead won't touch bottom."
Isabel smiled indulgently: One must be tolerantwith a person forced to spend his life within the limited bounds of a ship.
"Miss Sturgis, our instructor in sociology, advises us to be very observing and to take notes of everything unusual. You know we shall graduate next year and time passessoswiftly. It seems only yesterday that I entered Columbia Heights School, and here Christmas is upon us. I have so little time left in which to accomplish all I feel I should, and I could not graduate after I'd passed seventeen. I'ddieof mortification. And, oh, that fact holds a suggestion. Pardon me if I make a note of it, and—and—howdo you spell accomplished, Captain Stewart? I really have so little time to give to etymology."
For one second Captain Stewart looked at the girl as though he thought she might possibly be running him. He was more accustomed to the fun-loving, joking girl than to this "cellar-grown turnip" as he mentally stigmatized her. Then the little imps in Rosalie's eyes proved his undoing:
"I'm afraid I'm no good as an English prof. Reckon I'd spell it akomplish. Sounds as good as any other way. You'll know what it means when you overhaul it anyhow. But here we are at the Junction. Pipe overside, bo's'n," he cried to Peggy.
Good-bys were hastily spoken and Captain Stewart soon had his party hurrying across the platform to the Annapolis car. As he settled Rosalie in her seat he asked:
"How many Miss Boylstons have you got at Columbia Heights?"
"Only one, thank the powers!" answered Rosalie fervently.
It was nearly six when the electric cars rolled up to the rear of Wilmot Hall and the girls saw Mrs. Harold, and a number of the midshipmen of the first class lined up and eagerly watching for the particular "she" who would spend the holidays in Annapolis.
A mob of squabbling boys made a mad rush for the car steps in the hope of securing suitcases to carry into the hotel, and had not the midshipmen swept them aside, further progress for the car's passengers would have been barred. The hoodlums of the town seem to spring from the very ground upon the arrival of a car at Wilmot and certainly make life a burden for travelers trying to descend the car steps.
There was only time for general greetings just then, as all hurried into Wilmot to meet old friends and new ones, Mrs. Howland, Constance, Snap, Gail and Mr. Harold having already arrived.
Pending the departure for Severndale, Mrs. Harold had, at Captain Stewart's request, engaged three extra rooms, thus practically preempting her entire corridor for her guests, and a jollier party it would have been hard to find than the one escorted down to the big dining-room that evening by "The Executive Officer," as Captain Stewart called Mrs. Harold, who was acting as chaperone for his party.
Directly dinner ended Captain Stewart and Commander Harold left upon some mysterious mission which threw the girls into a wild flutter of curiosity.
"Oh, what is it all about?" demanded Rosalie.
"Can't tell one single thing until Daddy Neil says I may," laughed Peggy.
"Does Polly know?" asked Natalie.
Peggy nodded.
"You'll have to bottle up your impatience for an hour or two. Go to your rooms and shake out your pretties for tomorrow night's frolic, for I am going to 'pipe down' early tonight. When you have finished stowing your lockers come back to the sitting-room and we'll have a quiet, cozy time until our commanding officers return. Constance, Gail and Snap must make a call this evening, but I'm not going to let anyone claim my time. It all belongs to my girls," said Mrs. Harold gaily, as she and Mrs. Howlandseated themselves before the open fire.
The girls hurried away to do her bidding, for it had been decided to remain at Wilmot until after the Christmas hop, all going out to Severndale by a special car when the dance was over, Harrison, Mammy and Jerome, under Mrs. Harold's tactful generalship, having made all preparations for the big house party.
In a few moments the girls returned from unpacking their suitcases.
The Thanksgiving visit had removed all sense of reserve or strangeness with Mrs. Harold, but they did not know Mrs. Howland, and for a moment there seemed an ominous lull. Then Peggy crying:
"I want my old place, Little Mother," nestled softly upon the arm of the big morris-chair in which Mrs. Harold sat, and rested her head against Mrs. Harold. The other girls had dropped upon chairs, but Mrs. Harold was minded to have her charges pro tem at closer range, so releasing herself from Peggy's circling arm for a moment, she reached for two plump cushions upon the couch near at hand and flopping them down, one at either knee said: "Juno on this one, Rosalie on the other; Marjorie beside me and Natalie, Stella and Nelly with Polly," for Polly had already cuddled down upon her mother's chair.
Before the words had well left her lips, Rosalie had sprung to her coign of vantage crying:
"Oh, Mrs. Harold, you are the dearest chappie I ever knew, and it's already been ten times lovelier than Polly and Peggy ever could describe it."
With a happy little laugh, Natalie promptly seated herself upon the arm of Mrs. Howland's chair, but Juno hesitated a moment, looking doubtfully at the cushion. Juno was a very up-to-date young lady as to raiment. How could she flop down as Rosalie had done while wearing a skirt which measured no more than a yard around at the hem, and geared up in an undergarment which defied all laws of anatomy by precluding the possibility of bending at the waist line? She looked at Mrs. Harold and she looked at the cushion. As her boys would have expressed it "the Little Mother was not slow in catching on." She now laughed outright. Juno did not know whether to resent it or join in the laugh too. There was something about the older woman, however, which aroused in girls a sense of camaraderie rather than reserve, though Juno had never quite been able to analyze it. She smiled, and by some form of contortion of which necessity and long practice had made her a passed mistress,contrived to get herself settled upon the cushion.
"Honey," said Mrs. Harold, patting her shoulder, "if you want to live up to your name you'll discard your coat of mail. Your namesake would have scorned its limitations, and your young figure will be far lovelier and more graceful, to say nothing of the benefit to yourself and future generations, if you heave your armor plate overboard."
It was all said half-jestingly, half-seriously, but Juno gave her head a superior little toss as she answered:
"And go looking like a meal sack? To say nothing of flinging away twenty perfectly good dollars just paid to Madam Malone."
"I'm afraid I'm a very old-fashioned old lady, but I have no notion of letting any Madam Malone, or any other French lady from Erin dictatemyfashions, or curtail the development and use of my muscles; I have too much use for them. Do Peggy and Polly resemble 'meal sacks?' Yet no Madam Malone has ever had the handling of their floating-ribs, let me tell you. Watch out, little girl, for a nervous, semi-invalid womanhood is a high price to pay for a pair of corsets at seventeen. There, my lecture is over and now let's talk of earthquakes."
At her aunt's question regarding Peggy and herself resembling "meal sacks," Polly laughedaloud and being in a position to practically demonstrate the freedom which a sensibly full skirt afforded, cried:
"If I couldn'trunwhen I felt like it I'ddie. I tell you, when I strike heavy weather I want my rigging ship-shape. I'd hate to scud under bare poles."
The subject was changed but the words were not forgotten. The other girls had all gathered about the blazing logs upon cushions or hassocks, and a pretty group they formed as they talked eagerly of the coming hop, and tried to guess what Captain Stewart was planning, Mrs. Harold and Mrs. Howland joining enthusiastically in it all.
"Tanta," asked Polly, "do you know that Lily Pearl Montgomery and Helen Doolittle are here at Wilmot with Helen's uncle? We have christened him 'Foxy Grandpa.' Just wait till you see him. He looks the character exactly."
"Are they to go to the hop?" asked Mrs. Harold, instantly interested, for even though she had heard amusing tales of the two girls, they were still young girls, and she was concerned for their happiness and pleasure.
"We don't know and we didn't like to seem inquisitive," replied Polly.
"Yes, they are going, Little Mother. Helen told me so. Foxy Grandpa knows somebodywho knows somebody else, who knows the boys who are to take them, but they didn't tell us their names. I wonder if we know them," was Peggy's laughing explanation.
"I hope they will have a happy time," said Mrs. Howland gently as she stroked back Polly's silky curls.
"You trust them to have the time of their lives, Mumsey. But oh,isn'tit good to be here!" and Polly favored her mother with an ecstatic hug.
"What time are we to go to Severndale tomorrow, Little Mother?" asked Peggy.
"Not until after the hop, dear. It will be very late, I know, but Christmas is a special day of days. That is the reason I'm going to send you all off early tonight. Nine-thirty gunfire will see you started for the Land o' Nod."
"Aren't we to wait until Daddy Neil comes back?"
"Not unless he gets back before three bells and it looks doubtful, two have already struck. But you'll learn the news the first thing in the morning."
But at that moment Captain Stewart came breezing into the room. Peggy and Polly flew to him crying:
"Did he say yes? Did he say yes? Oh,answer, quick! Do!" they begged, each clasping arms about him.
"If I answer quick you'll both cast loose but the longer I keep you in suspense the longer you'll lay hold," was his quizzical retort.
"We won't stir. We won't budge. Tell us."
For answer Captain Stewart drew an official-looking document from his blouse pocket and waved it high above the girls' heads. A series of ecstatic squeals arose from them. Opening the carefully folded paper he read its stereotyped phrasing, all of which is too serious to be herein repeated. Suffice it to say that it secured for
Durand Leroux, Second ClassHerbert Taylor, Second ClassRalph Wilber, Third ClassJean Paul Nichols, Third ClassGordon Powers, Third ClassDouglas Porter, Third Class
leave of absence under Captain Neil Stewart's orders from 6:30 P. M., December 23rd, to 6 P. M., December 25th, 19—.
When the excitement had somewhat subsided, Captain Stewart said:
"Now that I'm sure of it, I must go 'phone out to Severndale or Jerome and Harrison will be throwing fits. We'll have to quarter that bunch in the old wing, but Lord bless my soul,I reckon they'd be willing to go out to the paddock. But mind, you girls,not one whisper of it to those boys, until I give the word, or it will be the brig for every mother's daughter of you," and with this terrifying threat he strode off down the corridor.
Just then three bells struck in the tower and at the second stroke the nine-thirty gun boomed out its welcome "Release."
As the sound died away Mrs. Harold walked over to the big window calling to the girls to join her.
"Stand here a moment," she said, then going over to the electric switch turned off all the lights.
"Why? What?" cried all the girls excepting Peggy and Polly.
"Look at the windows on the third deck of Bancroft, southwest corner," she said, unhooking a drop light from above her desk and crossing the room to the puzzled girls. "Those are Durand's and Bert's rooms. Next to them are Gordon's and Doug's. Watch closely."
Presently from two of the windows lights were flashed three times in rapid succession. Then absolute darkness.
Instantly Mrs. Harold turned the reflector of her drop light toward the academy in such a way that the light would be cast out across thenight, then by turning the key on and off quickly she flashed its rays three times, paused a moment, then repeated the signal.
Instantly from the rooms mentioned came the answering flashes, which after a brief interval were repeated, Mrs. Harold again giving her reply.
"Oh, who does it? What is it for? What do they mean?" asked her visitors.
"Just our usual good-night message to each other. My boys are all dear to me, but Durand and Gordon peculiarly so. Those rooms are theirs. Shall I tell you the message the flashes carry? It is just a little honor code. I want the boys to stand well this term, but, like most boys they are always ready for skylarking, and the work from seven-thirty to nine-thirty is easily side-tracked. So we have agreed to exchange a message at gunfire if 'all is well.' If they have been boning tomorrow's work my flash light is answered; if not—well, I see no answering flash."
"Do you think they always live up to the agreement?" asked Rosalie.
"I have faith to believe they do. Isn't it always better to believe a person honest until we prove him a thief, than to go the other way about it? Besides, they carry the Talisman."
"What is it—Little Mother?" asked Juno, tothe surprise of the others, slipping to Mrs. Harold's side and placing her arm about her.
"Would you really like to know, dear? Suppose we throw on a fresh log and leave the lights turned off. Then we'll have a confidential ten minutes before you go to bed. You can all cuddle down in a pile on the big bearskin."
A moment later the flames formed a brilliant background to a pretty picture, and Mrs. Harold was repeating softly, as the upspringing flames filled the room with, their light and rested lovingly upon the young faces upturned to here:
"Each night when three bells strike the hourUp in the old clock's lofty tower,A flashing beam, a darting rayTheir message of good faith convey."Those wavering, clear, electric beams,Who'll guess how much their message means?Or dream the wondrous tale they tell?'Dear Little Mother, all is well.'"Yes, out across the peaceful night,By moon and stars made silvery bright,This message comes in gleaming light:We've kept the faith; Good-night! Good-night!"Our token of a duty done,An effort made, a victory won;The bond on which we claim the rightTo flash our message, our 'Good-night.'"Dear Little Mother. Precious name!None sweeter may a woman claim,No greater honor hope to gainThan this which three short words contain."To win and hold a love so pure,A faith so stanch, so strong, so sure—To gain a confidence so rare—What honors can with these compare?"No wonder as I flash my rayAcross the night's dividing way,In deepest reverence I say:God keep you true, dear lads, alway."
The girls' good-nights were spoken very tenderly. The message of the lights had carried one to them as well.