Sisters

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XVIII. A NEW EXPERIENCE

  May was a busy, happy month for Jenny. Never had she studied harder andher teacher, Miss Dearborn, rejoiced in her beloved pupil's rapidadvancement. Then, twice a week, on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons,when she drove around to the beautiful country homes of the richdelivering eggs and honey, on the high seat at her side rode her veryfirst girl friend, Lenora Gale. Jenny was jubilantly happy on theseoccasions, and, as for Lenora, she spent the hours in between the ridesin anticipation of the next one or in dreaming over the last one. Shewrote long letters to her far-away farmer father or to her nearerbrother, Charles, telling all about this new friend who seemed to thereaders of those letters to be a paragon indeed.

  "I just know that you will love my dear Jenny when you see her," shewrote indiscriminately in either letter, and Charles smiled to himself.He might like this Jenny Warner in a general way, but he was not at allafraid that he would "love" any girl in particular, soon or ever. He wasconvinced of that. He had met many girls, but he had never felt stronglyappealed to by any of them, and since he would be twenty-one on his nextbirthday he decided that he was immune, but of this he said nothing inhis letters to his beloved little sister, for he well knew that she didnot refer to romantic love when she so often prophesied that her brotherwould love Jenny Warner.

  But, as the weeks passed, Charles found that he was looking forward witha new interest to the middle of June, when he was to go to Santa Barbarato get his sister and take her, if she were well enough to travel, backto their Dakota farm for the summer.

  As for Harold P-J. he had returned to the military academy jubilantlyeager for the beginning of his duties as Farmer Warner's "helper." Hewrote a long, dutiful letter to his mother each week, and, after thatvisit to Rocky Point, he told his plan for the summer not withouttrepidation and ended with a description of the flower-like qualities ofthe granddaughter: "Mother mine, there's a girl after your own heart.You'll just love Jenny Warner."

  Perhaps it was because of this letter that Mrs. Poindexter-Jones changedher plans and decided to leave for Santa Barbara at an earlier date.

  At last there came a day when Jenny did not look about her at the gnarledold oaks or at the carpet of wild flowers in the uplands as she walkedalong the familiar trail which led to Miss Dearborn's pepper-tree guardedgate, for she was conning over and over a lesson. Nor was her teacher inthe garden where she so often busied herself as she awaited her pupil.Instead she stood in the drive with her hat and jacket on.

  When at last the girl lifted her eyes from her book, she stopped--anexpression of dread and consternation in her eyes. "Miss Dearborn," sheexclaimed, "you aren't going back East, are you?"

  The pleasant-faced woman laughed. "Not yet," she replied. "How you dodread that event, which I can assure you is not even a remotepossibility. Why should I go East, dear?"

  Jenny Warner could not explain why she seemed so often to be oppressed bythat dread. "Do you believe that coming events cast their shadowsbefore?" she asked, putting her hand to her throat. "Honestly, MissDearborn, I feel as if something terribly awful is about to happen. Andseeing you just now with your hat and jacket on made me think that youmight have had a telegram and that you were just leaving."

  Miss Dearborn merrily put in: "I _am_ just leaving, and for that matterso are _you_. I received a telephone message half an hour ago that thedate of the first examination had been changed and is to take place at 10o'clock _this morning_."

  Jenny's books fell to the path and her look of consternation would havebeen comical if it had not been tragic. "Miss Dearborn, I knew it! I havefelt just perfectly miserable as though I had lost my last friend withfifty other calamities added. Now I know coming events cast their shadowsbefore. I thought we were going to have all this day for review."

  Miss Dearborn's reply was cheerfully optimistic. "I'm glad that we arenot. I object to the system of cramming. You would tire your brain and beless able to answer questions tomorrow than you are today. Now take yourbooks into the house, dear, and leave them on the library table, thenhurry back. We are to catch the nine o'clock stage."

  Poor Jenny's heart felt heavily oppressed. Together they went down to theCoast Highway, and, as they had a few moments to wait for the bus in therustic little roadside station, Jenny ventured, "Don't you think, MissDearborn, it would be a good plan for you to ask me questions or explainto me something that you think I do not understand very clearly?"

  "No, I do not." Miss Dearborn was emphatic in her reply. Then sheinquired: "How is your little friend Lenora Gale? You promised to bringher up to have a tea-party with me soon. You haven't forgotten, haveyou?"

  A shade of sorrow passed over the girl's pretty face. "Miss Dearborn,"she said earnestly, "Lenora isn't as well as she was. I am ever sotroubled about her. She seemed so much better after we met, and then,last week, she caught another cold. Now she is worse again, and has tostay in bed. I was up to the seminary Saturday to take the eggs andhoney, and I asked if I might see her. Miss O'Hara went to inquire ofMiss Granger, but she came back without the permission I wanted. Thedoctor had requested that Lenora be kept perfectly quiet. Oh, I just knowthat she is fretting her heart out to see me, and she doesn't like it atthe seminary. It's such a cold, unfriendly sort of a place. The girlsnever did take to Lenora, partly because she is retiring, almost timid, Isuppose, and, besides, they may have heard that her father is only afarmer."

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the bus. Then, whenthey were seated within, Jenny continued, almost with bitterness: "Richgirls are haughty and horrid, that is, if they are all like GwynettePoindexter-Jones."

  "But they aren't, dear. Don't judge the many by the few. I had manywealthy classmates and they were as simple and sweetly sincere as anypoor girl could be."

  Miss Dearborn purposely kept Jenny's thoughts occupied with her friendLenora. Then she asked if Etta Heldt had been heard from. Jenny shook herhead. "We should have heard, at least two weeks ago. Grandpa Si thinks wenever will hear. He said the best way to lose a friend is to loan himmoney, but I have faith in Etta Heldt. I just know she will write someday soon if she reached Belgium alive." Miss Dearborn had visited Belgiumand she described that interesting little country, and at last the busreached the high school in Santa Barbara. Jenny, with a glance of terrorat her teacher, took one of her hands and held it hard.

  Throngs of bright-eyed girls, many of them in short sport skirts andprettily colored sweater coats, trooped past the two who were strange.Some few glanced at Jenny casually as though wondering who she might be,but no one spoke.

  Fragments of conversation drifted to her. "Gee-whiliker!" aboyish-looking girl exclaimed. "I'd rather have the world come to an endthan take the geom exam from Seer Simp."

  Professor Simpson, as Jenny knew, was the instructor in charge of thatmorning's exams.

  "Say! Wouldn't I, though?" her companion replied with a mock shudder.Then these two passed and another group hurried by. The leader turned tofling over her shoulder: "O-o-h!! My hands are so cold now I won't beable to hold a pen, but if Monsieur Simpson so much as looks at me withhis steely blue eyes, I'll change to an icicle."

  A moment later Jenny found herself confronted by that same dreadedprofessor. Miss Dearborn was introducing her and a kindly voice wassaying: "Miss Warner, we are expecting much of you since you have had theadvantage of so much personal instruction."

  The eyes of the small elderly gentleman were, it is true, a keengrey-blue, but there was friendliness in their expression.

  Then it was that Jenny realized that since her tutor had done so much forher, she, in turn, must do her best, and be, if only she could, a creditto her beloved friend.

  A gong was ringing somewhere in the corridor. As one in a dream, Jennybade good-bye to Miss Dearborn, who promised to return at noon. Then thegirl followed her new acquaintance into a room thronged with boys andgirls and sat at the desk indicated.