Miss Ashton's New Pupil — 07 - Chapters XIII and XIV

GLADYS LEAVES THE CLUB.

Dorothy was the first to see Marion at the door of their room after the tableaux.

She hoped she had not heard what Sue had said, but that she had she could not doubt when she saw the pained expression on Marion's face.

In the after discussion of the entertainment, Marion took no part, but went quietly to her bed, with only a brief "good-night."

"They have hurt her feelings, and they ought to have been ashamed of themselves," said kind Dorothy to the two members of the club sitting beside her.

"Girls, if that is what you mean to do in your Demosthenic Club, I am most thankful I never joined it, and the sooner you both leave it the better."

"Grandmarm!"

said Sue, her hot temper flashing into her face, "when we want your advice, we will ask it."

"What's up, Dody?

Whose feelings are hurt, and who ought to be ashamed of themselves?"

asked Gladys.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"About Marion and the Demosthenic Club!"

answered Dorothy briefly.

"What for?

What has Marion to do with the club?"

Dorothy looked straight into Gladys's face for a moment.

Whatever other faults Gladys had, she had never, even in trifles, been otherwise than honest and straightforward.

There was nothing in her face now but surprise; so Dorothy, much relieved that she was not a partaker in the unkindness, explained to her that, as Susan had just told them, the club had taken Marion's country cousin for a butt, and had made him, with the old aunt,--the knowledge of whom must have come to them from some one in their room,--the characters in the farce; and that Marion, coming into the room just as Susan was telling of it, had heard her; and it had hurt her feelings.

Now, strange as it may seem, it was nevertheless true that the club, knowing Gladys well, and how impossible it would be for her to do anything that might injure another, had carefully kept from her any direct participation in it.

She knew in a general way what was to be done, but was ignorant of particulars.

No sooner had the whole been made known to her, than without a word, though it was after the time when the girls were allowed to leave their rooms, without the slightest effort to move softly, she passed the doors of several teachers, up into another corridor, not stopping until she tapped at Jenny Barton's room.

The tap was followed by the muffled sound of scurrying feet, of a table pulled hastily away, of whispers intended to be soft, but in the hurry having a strangely sibilant tone, that made them almost words spoken aloud, to the impatient Gladys.

She rapped a second time, a little louder than the first, and the door was opened by Jenny, in her nightdress.

The gas in the room was out, and there was no one to be seen.

"Why, Gladys Philbrick!"

she exclaimed crossly, pulling Gladys hastily in; "you frightened us almost out of our wits.

Girls!

it's only Gladys!"

Out from under the beds and from the closets in the two bedrooms crept one after another the girls of the club.

All were there but Susan and Gladys; and they would have been invited, but it was well known that if Gladys broke a rule of the school, she never rested until she had made full confession to one of the teachers.

She was not to be trusted in the least; and, of course, Susan could not be invited without her, so the knowledge of the spread which was to succeed the tableaux had been carefully kept from them.

No wonder at Jenny's reception of her!

Somewhat staggered by this, and by the appearance of the hidden, laughing girls, Gladys stood for a moment staring blankly around her, then she asked, singling Kate Underwood out from among the others,-- "Kate!

did you write that poem to make fun of Marion Parke's country cousin?"

"Why do you ask?"

answered Kate, turning brusquely upon Gladys.

"Because, if you did, and if, as Sue says, you got up those tableaux to make fun of him, I think you are the meanest girl in the school;

and as for the club--a club that would do such a thing, I wouldn't be a member of a moment longer, not if you would give me a million dollars!"

"Well, as we have no million to give you, and wouldn't part with even a copper to have you stay, you can have your name taken off the roll any time," said the president majestically.

"All right, it's done then; but my question is not answered.

Kate Underwood, did, or did you not, intend to make fun of Marion Parke's cousin?"

"When I know by what right you ask me, I will answer you; until then, Gladys Philbrick, will you be kind enough to speak in a lower voice, unless you wish to bring some of the teachers down upon us, or perhaps you will report us to Miss Ashton; I think she has just come in the late train, I heard a carriage stop at the door."

"You want to know my right?"

answered Gladys, without taking any notice of Kate's taunts.

"It's the right of being ashamed to hold a girl up to ridicule for what she couldn't help, and a girl like Marion Parke.

I hoped you could say you didn't mean to; but I see you can't." Then Gladys, without another word, left the room, leaving behind her a set of girls who, to say the least, were not in a mood to congratulate themselves on the events of the evening.

The spread was hastily put on the table again, but it was eaten by them with sober faces and troubled hearts.

"Well," said Sue, as Gladys came noisily into their room, "now I suppose you've made all the girls so mad they will never speak to me again."

"I have told them what I think of them," and Gladys looked at Sue askance over her shoulder as she spoke, "and I advise you to quit a club that can be as unkind as this has been to-night."

"When I want your advice I will ask it; I advise you to keep it until then.

Whom did you see?"

"All of them, hiding under beds and in closets."

"That means a spread without leave, and we not invited.

You're a tell-tale Gladys; they are afraid of you."

"Good!"

said Gladys with a scornful laugh.

"Girls," said a gentle voice from the bedroom door, "don't mind; it's foolish in me I dare say, and--and the tableaux were real funny," and an odd attempt at a laugh ended in a burst of tears.

In a moment both of Gladys's arms were around Marion's neck.

"You dear, darling old Marion," she said, whimpering herself.

"Too much noise in this room!"

said Miss Palmer's voice at their door.

"I did not expect this, Marion!

Dorothy, what does it mean?"

"We are going to bed, Miss Palmer," said Dorothy, opening the door immediately.

"It was about the tableaux we were talking."

"You should have been in bed half an hour ago; I am sorry to be obliged to report you.

Let this never happen again.

Your room has been in most respects a model room until now."

Not a girl spoke, and if Miss Palmer had come again fifteen minutes later, she would have found the gas out and the girls in bed.

CHAPTER XIV. KATE UNDERWOOD'S APOLOGIES.

The scholars noticed that when Miss Ashton came into the hall a few nights after the Friday evening tableaux she looked very grave.

"What's gone wrong?

Who has been making trouble?

Look at the girls that belong to the Demosthenic Club!

I'm glad I am not a member!"

These, and various other remarks, passed from one to the other, as Miss Ashton walked through the hall to her seat on the platform.

It was the hour for evening prayers.

Usually she read a short psalm, but to-night she chose the twelfth chapter of Romans, stopping at the tenth verse, and looking slowly around the school as she repeated,-- "'Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another.'

" Then she closed her Bible and repeated these verses:-- "'These things I command you, That you love one another.

Let love be without dissimulation.

Love worketh no ill to his neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.

By love serve one another.

But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith.

And I pray that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and in all judgment.

Fulfil ye my joy, that ye be like minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.

Let nothing be done through strife or vain glory, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than himself.

Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.

"'But as touching brotherly love ye need not that I write unto you;

for ye yourselves are taught of God to love one another.

"'Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God, and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.

He that loveth not, knoweth not God; for God is love.'

"I hesitate," said Miss Ashton, after a moment's pause, "to add anything to these expressive and solemn Bible words.

They convey in the most forcible way what seems to me the highest good for which we can aim in this life,--the perfection of Christian character.

"I presume you all realize in some degree the world we make here by ourselves.

Set apart in a great measure from what is going on around us, closely connected in all our interests, we depend upon each other for our happiness, our growth, our well-being.

We are helped, or we are hindered, by what in a large sphere might pass us by.

Nothing is too small to be of vital importance to us; the aggregate of our influences is made up of trifles.

I have said this same thing to you time and time again, and yet I am sorry to find how soon it can be forgotten.

If I could impress upon you these tender, beautiful gospel truths I have repeated, I should have had no occasion to detain you to-night.

You would all of you have been bearing one another's burdens, instead of laying one upon delicate shoulders.

"'Taught of God to love one another.'

Do those learn the lesson God teaches who, without, we will say, bearing any ill-will, injure the feelings of others?

It may be by unkind words; it may be by an intentional rudeness; it may be by neglect; it may be by a criticism spoken secretly, slyly, circulated wittily, laughed at, but not forgotten.

'The ways that are unlovely;' how numerous they are, and how directly they tend to make hearts ache, and lives unhappy, no words can tell!

"Young ladies, if your lives with us sent you out into the world, first in accomplishments, thoroughly grounded in the elements of an education, that after all has only its beginning here, leaders in society, and yet you wanted the nobility of that love which the Bible claims is the fruit of the spirit, we should have to say, we have 'labored in vain, and spent our strength for naught.'

I wish I could see among you that tenderness of spirit that would shrink as sensitively from hurting another, as it does from being hurt yourselves.

I am looking anxiously for it in this new year.

I am looking hopefully for it; you will not disappoint me I am sure."

Then she asked them to sing the hymn "Blest be the tie that binds," made a short prayer, and waited before leaving the room for the hall to be cleared.

It was well she did; for no sooner had the last girl left the corridor, before Kate Underwood came rushing back to the platform, and catching hold of Miss Ashton's hand said,-- "I didn't do it, I _didn't_ do it, Miss Ashton, to hurt Marion Parke's feelings!

I like her so much; I think she is--is, why is about the best girl in the whole school.

I only meant--why I meant he was such an old codger it was real funny; I thought it would make a nice tableau, and I never thought Marion would recognize it: I wouldn't have done it for the world!"

Then she stopped, looked earnestly in Miss Ashton's face, and asked,-- "Do you believe me, Miss Ashton?"

Now, Miss Ashton knew Kate to be a very impulsive girl, doing many foolish, and often wrong things, only sometimes sorry for them, so she did not receive her excited apologies with the consideration which they really deserved.

She said, perhaps a little coldly,-- "I am glad you have come to see the matter both more kindly and reasonably, Kate.

Yes!

I do believe you: I do not doubt you feel all you say; but, Kate, you are so easily tempted by what seems to you fun.

I can't make you see, fun that becomes personal in a way to injure the feelings of any one ceases to be fun, becomes cruelty.

There is a great deal of that in this school this term.

Hardly a day passes but some of the girls come to me crying because their feelings have been wounded, and I am truly grieved to say, you are oftener the cause of it than any other girl.

To be both witty and wise is a great gift; to be witty without being wise is a great misfortune; sometimes I think it has been your misfortune.

You are not a cruel girl.

You are at bottom a kind girl; yet see how you wound!

You didn't _mean_ to hurt Marion Parke; you like her, yet you did: you made fun of an old country cousin, whose visit must have been a trial to her.

You are two Kates, one thinks only of the fun and the _éclat_ of a witty tableau;

the other would have done and said the kindest and the prettiest things to make Marion Parke happy.

Which of these Kates do you like best?"

Miss Ashton now laid her hand lovingly over the hands of the excited girl, who answered her with her eyes swimming in tears, "Your kind, Miss Ashton."

Then she put up her lips for the never-failing kiss, and went quietly away, but not to her own room.

There was something truly noble in the girl, after all.

She went to Marion's door and, knocking gently, asked if Marion would walk with her to the grove.

Much surprised, but pleased, Marion readily consented, and the two went out in the early darkness of an October night alone, the girls whom they met in the corridors staring at them as they passed.

[Illustration: Marion turned, threw both arms around Kate's neck, kissing her over and over again.

--Page 89. ] "Marion!"

said Kate, "I ask your pardon a thousand, million times!

I

never, _never_ meant to hurt your feelings!

I forgot everything but the fun I saw in the old farm-scenes, and the new fashionable school-girl out for a vacation; I did truly.

I--I don't say it would ever have occurred to me if that cousin of yours hadn't come here, because that wouldn't be true, and I'm as bad as George Washington" (with a little laugh now), "I can't tell a lie; but can say that I never would have written one word of that miserable farce if I had ever dreamed it would have hurt your feelings: will you forgive me?"

Marion had listened to this long speech with varying emotions.

As we know, she had been wounded by the tableaux, but her feelings had been exaggerated by her room-mates, and if the matter had been dropped at once she would probably soon have forgotten it.

Kate's apology filled her with astonishment.

How could it ever have come to her knowledge that she had been wounded, and how came she to think it of enough importance to make an apology now.

Instead of answering, Marion turned, threw both arms around Kate's neck, kissing her over and over again.

Kate, surprised in her turn, returned the kisses with much ardor.

It was a girl's forgiveness, and its recognition, without another word.

Then they walked down into the grove, their arms around each other's waists, and the belated birds, scurrying to their nests, sang evening songs to them.

On the side of the little lake that nestles in the midst of the grove, two petted frogs, grown large and lazy on the sweet things with which their visitors so freely regaled them, heard their steps, hopped up a little nearer to the well-worn path, and saluted them with an unusually loud bass.

Whether it was the influence of Miss Ashton's words, or the generous act of apology,--the noblest showing of a noble mind that has erred,--it would be hard to tell; but, certain it is, Kate Underwood had learned a lesson this time which, let us hope, she will never forget.

When Marion went back to her room it was quite time for study hours to begin; but her room-mates had so many questions to ask about Kate's object in inviting her out to walk, that a good half-hour passed before they began their lessons.

Marion did not feel at liberty to repeat what Kate had said, and so she frankly told them.

CHAPTER XV.