Hester's Counterpart Part 9

"Get out of the game within a minute or you shall be penalized for all the games to follow." There was no disputing Helen. Her manner was calm and her voice low, but authority was in her bearing. She stood ready to give the signal to play; but before she put the whistle to her lips, she said quietly, "While I am managing, we'll play an honest game or we will not play at all."

The girls, except Berenice, cheered and clapped. She was making her way from the gymnasium. Her heart was filled with anger and a scowl was on her face. How she hated Helen Loraine! It was not the first time Helen had criticised her.

"And Hester Alden will be another one just like Helen--too goody-good to live," was her thought. Even after Berenice was being disqualified, Hester did not understand fully all that had taken place. It was not until they were at the baths, that a full understanding came to her.

Outside the bath, were the lockers. Sara and Renee had come up and paused for a moment.

"Will you allow Berenice to play next game?" asked Sara.

"Miss Watson must settle that. The captain and referee may disqualify for one game; but to make it permanent penalizing, the matter must be brought before Miss Watson. It is a very difficult matter to explain.

The best way would be to have Miss Watson referee for one or two games.

Then she would grasp the subtleties of the situation."

They pa.s.sed on. When they were almost beyond hearing, Renee's voice sounded loud and clear.

"Sara, I do wish you'd let me wear your tan shoes down town to-morrow evening. I have permission to go, and I wish to wear my brown suit, but I have no tan shoes. I wear the same size as you."

Hester smiled. She had known Renee but ten days, during which time she could not remember one instance when the conversation did not conclude with "will you lend?"

Hester was deliberate in matters of getting from a gym suit into a dress. When she was ready to appear, the corridor leading from the gymnasium baths was deserted except for the sweep-women who were putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to their work.

Hester hurried out. As she crossed the campus, she found Josephine Moore sitting on the steps leading up to the dormitory. From this place, there was an excellent view of the river and the mountain beyond. Josephine appeared to be spellbound by it. She was a large girl with quant.i.ties of brown hair which she drew loosely back and coiled at the back of her head. Her eyes were large, l.u.s.terless and of a weak and faded blue, but Josephine had read novels and knew what speaking eyes meant. She tried to make her eyes soulful. She was of a romantic turn of mind, and although she would not have prevaricated for the world or done another harm by repeating anything to their detriment, she was a dreamer of day-dreams. So well did she dream that it was difficult sometimes for her to know where truth ended and dreams began.

"Can you not sit a while?" she asked. She moved to make room beside herself. Her voice was low and full and had in it a pathetic quality which was in harmony with her dreams. Hester sat down beside her. Being somewhat awed by this magnificent creature with the soulful eyes, Hester sat in silence.

"I love this time of day," began Josephine in low rapturous voice. "I love the gathering twilight. I think this is the hour when poets must sit and dream. The world and work and all horrid things are pa.s.sing and only the tender twilight hangs like a mantle over all." She paused and looked at her companion. Hester felt that a reply of some sort was expected. She said the first and easiest thing that came to mind. "Yes, it is sort of nice."

"'Nice' is scarcely the word. I wish I knew what would exactly express the feeling. Sublime, soulful--" She paused and raised her eyes as though to scan the heavens. "I suppose I feel differently from other people. They tell me that my singing shows soul. I myself have often noticed the difference between myself and other girls. Would you believe it? They pa.s.s here with laughter and jest. I cannot do that. I always pause and look at the trees and river. It seems as though a spell comes upon me. I cannot laugh and jest in the midst of such sublime things."

"Is Hester Alden there?" cried a gay voice. "Oh, is that you, Jo?

Mooning? You had better come in. If you sit on those cold stones, you'll take cold and your nose will be red and your eyes watery. You'll not be sublime then." The cheer and good-nature in the voice robbed it of ill-feeling. Erma laughed as she appeared. No one could take exception to anything she said. She was too happy--too well satisfied with the world and the people about her to do anything or say anything in bitterness.

Josephine arose slowly as became one of a poetic and soulful temperament.

"You are the slowest mortal, Jo. You are wanted up in Philo Hall. You haven't fifteen minutes until the first study bell. The girls have been looking everywhere for you. You are on the program committee."

"I was carried away--," began Miss Moore. But Erma had turned her back upon the girl. As she was about to speak to Hester, she was diverted from her intention by the sound of wheels. Both she and Hester turned to look as a carriage with a coachman in livery, came from porte-cochere, turned down the driveway and pa.s.sed within a few feet of where the girls stood. The carriage pa.s.sed under an arc light and Erma and Hester saw distinctly the features of the woman in the carriage. She had a beautiful face, although marked with care. Her hair was white, yet her bearing as she sat erect, was that of a young woman.

"What a sweet face!" cried Hester. "That is the carriage that blocked our way, the day that Aunt Debby came up to school with me. I remember most distinctly."

The occupant of the carriage had not looked in their direction. Even had she done so, she could not have distinguished the girls; for they stood leaning against the pillars and the moving shadows fell dark upon them.

When the carriage had pa.s.sed, Erma turned to her companion. "Helen was looking for you. I told her if I saw you, I'd tell you to go to your room. Helen has had company--at least I saw someone in her room."

"It may be Aunt Debby," cried Hester. She did not wait to explain. She paused not to excuse herself, but went racing down the corridor as fast as her feet would carry her. Her heels clattered on the hard wood floors and the sound of her labored breathing was audible at a considerable distance.

Just as she reached Number Fifteen, the door opened and Hester was taken by the arm. This was so unexpected that her first impulse was to jerk away, and hurry on. Fortunately a sober second thought overcame the impulse.

"Miss Alden, is the building burning? Why this haste?" Hester raised her eyes to those of the preceptress. Miss Burkham was the acme of all that was cultured and elegant. No imagination was strong enough to picture her, other than deliberate, low-voiced, serene of countenance. Hester who knew more of bluntness than irony, replied fearlessly, "No, there is no fire. I wished to get to my room as quickly as possible."

"So I surmised. But I see no necessity for this unladylike haste." Her restraining hand was yet upon Hester's shoulder. The girl felt herself quivering with the desire to be off down the corridor and up the stairs to Number Sixty-two. What if Aunt Debby should really be there waiting for her? Her heart beat fast with the thought.

Miss Burkham also felt the quivering of flesh under restraint. She delayed Hester yet longer while she made plain to her the unwritten by-laws of a lady's conduct.

"No lady races through the halls, in such fas.h.i.+on. It is the manner of a tom-boy. You may walk slowly down the corridor. I will stand here to see if you comprehend just what I mean by slowly. I trust that I may not be compelled to ask you to return in order that I may give you instructions in regard to the manner in which a lady walks."

"No, Miss Burkham," replied Hester humbly. She controlled her impatience at being thus detained. Miss Burkham released her and Hester moved forward as though by well-directed machinery.

On reaching Number Sixty-two, she found Helen standing before her dressing-table. She was alone. She turned as Hester entered.

"Little roommate," she said smiling a welcome at Hester. "Little roommate, I am vexed with you. I have been sending messengers everywhere in the hope of finding you. My dear Aunt Harriet was here and asked for you in particular. She waited until the last possible moment. And see there."

Helen pointed to a hamper which stood near the doorway. "She has brought us fruit, cake, and roasted chickens. No, I did not open the basket.

Aunt Harriet told me what was there. It is for you as well as for me. I know Aunt Harriet, and I know how the basket is arranged. There will be a chicken for you and one for me; a box of fudge for you and one for me; and so on through the entire menu. Aunt Harriet is very much afraid that some girl will have her feelings hurt or feel slighted. Open up the basket, Hester. I must take off this waist. The collar hurts me. It always was too high. I'll feel more comfortable in a kimona."

She turned to her dressing table. "Aunt Harriet brought me something which pleased me. I have an old pin which belonged to mother when she was a girl. I thought I had lost it, but Aunt Harriet said I left it at her home and she brought it with her."

Helen held the pin in her hand while she talked. Then she laid it carelessly in a little pin tray on the dresser. It was a pin of unusual style, about the size of a dime. The outer band was of a peculiar gold.

Within this was a yellowish-white stone which reflected the light like a flame of fire.

Hester's eyes would have opened wide at the sight of the pin, but she did not see it, for her attention was on the hamper she was unpacking.

CHAPTER VII

There was at d.i.c.kinson a Doctor Wilbur who had charge of the mathematics. He was a man of brilliant mind, sharp tongue, and a poor opinion of the mental ability of girls in general. He had been at d.i.c.kinson two years, not because he loved the cla.s.s of students, but the financial consideration had been the best ever offered to him.

The girls feared him and yet respected him for the power he exercised over a cla.s.s.

He did not hesitate to use sarcastic speech. Scarcely a day pa.s.sed, but some girl came from Cla.s.s-room C with her feelings deeply wounded.

Hester, who had a way of "speaking up," had borne her share of Doctor Wilbur's humor. But she forgot and forgave the instant she left his recitation.

One day he had been particularly trying, and the sting of his words had lingered. She had it in mind to tell Helen of the bitter words Doctor Wilbur had hurled at her, simply because she could not explain the projection of a perpendicular upon a plane. So far in their school life--two months had pa.s.sed--Hester and Helen had spoken to each other only of the agreeable things. But now Hester meant to express herself and be sympathized with.

But when she reached Sixty-two, she found Edna Bucher awaiting her. Edna was tall and slender; long and lank, perhaps would be more nearly her description. She was colorless and lifeless. Her one desire seemed to be to be ladylike and to go with the best people. In her lexicon, _best_ meant those with money or influence. Her hands were always cold, and her face expressionless. She posed as being the leader in cla.s.ses. She was literary and musical, if one might believe her own judgment of herself.

She never played, however, for the practice tired her. When she failed to respond to an invitation to recite--sometimes the invitation was quite urgent--it was not that she was not prepared to recite, but she was so nervous that she could not control her voice.

"I've been waiting for you for half an hour," she began as Hester entered the room. Her tones implied, that although the responsibility be on Hester's head, she would be good enough to overlook it.

"Were you?" replied Hester. "You surely knew that the fres.h.i.+es were busy until this hour."

"I presume I did so; but it pa.s.sed entirely from my mind. I was so absorbed in my work. I am editor-in-chief of the 'd.i.c.kinson Mirror.'"

"Oh," exclaimed Hester. She looked at Miss Bucher again. The glory of being editor of the "Mirror" cast a halo about the head of the otherwise unattractive girl.

"Yes, the girls selected me. I do not understand why they did. They appeared to think I had literary ability. Of course, I do not see that I have, but everyone speaks about it."