CHAPTER XXIII
THE MESSAGE OF THE VIOLIN
The news of the finding of the lost money in the haunted house came outin the evening paper, and set the whole town of Oakdale agog withexcitement.
The sensational robbery at the close of the Thanksgiving bazaar was toobold to have been forgotten, and the news of the recovery of thehard-earned money was a matter of delight to the public-spiritedcitizens of the little northern city.
The haunted house soon lost its ghost reputation, and was ransacked bysmall boys on the hunt for sliding panels and hidden treasure until theowner of the place, who had been absent from Oakdale, took a hand inthings and threatened severe penalties for trespassing, which greatlycooled the ardor of the youthful treasure-seekers.
As for Grace Harlowe and Eleanor Savelli, they were the bright andshining lights of the town and the darlings of the senior class.
The two girls had become firm friends. After the excitement of thefinding of the money had worn off, they had had a long talk and hadcleared up all misunderstandings. Eleanor had confessed to Grace thatlong before they had been brought together she had secretly tired of theold grudge and had longed for peace.
"After Edna Wright and I quarreled, I began to see things in a differentlight," Eleanor had confided to Grace, "and the longing for thecompanionship of your kind of girls took hold of me so strongly it mademe miserable at times.
"How I did envy you when you all went to the house party at Christmas,and I was wild to go to New York and see Anne, although I suppose I amthe last person she would care to see.
"It wasn't just the good times, either, that I coveted, it was thatsense of comradeship that existed among you girls that I didn't at allunderstand last year."
"But, Eleanor," Grace had said, "if you felt that way, why were you sodetermined to expose poor Marian Barber!"
"When Marian told me what she had done I felt the utmost contempt forher," Eleanor had replied. "My old idea of vengeance came to the front,and I thought of how completely I could humiliate you all through her.The day I quarreled with her in school I fully intended to expose her,but the more I thought about it, the less I liked the idea of it. Idon't really believe that I could ever have stood up before those girlsand betrayed her."
While Grace had listened to Eleanor, she had realized that the oldwhimsical, temperamental Eleanor was passing, and an entirely differentgirl was endeavoring to take her place. Grace exulted in her heart anddreamed great things for the Phi Sigma Tau when it should be restored toits original number of members.
Eleanor had announced herself ready and eager to take her old place inthe sorority, while Marian Barber had, with tears in her eyes, humblypetitioned Grace for her old place in the Phi Sigma Tau.
"Silly girl," was Grace's answer. "You can't go back to what you neverleft, can you?"
No one save Grace, Eleanor and Mr. Harlowe knew of how near Marian hadcome to being discredited in the eyes of her class and friends, and theycould be trusted with the secret.
Henry Hammond had left Oakdale the morning after he had been interviewedby Grace and Eleanor, and it was afterwards discovered that the land inwhich he had persuaded certain guileless citizens to invest money hadproved worthless. The swindled ones joined forces and put the matter inthe hands of a detective, but to no purpose, for no clue was found tohis whereabouts.
The strong box was turned over to the girls and the money, whichamounted to five hundred and ten dollars, was deposited in Upton Bankwith the five hundred that had caused Marian Barber such anxiety andsorrow.
The thief whom Grace had assisted in capturing was found to be a notedcrook, known to the police as "Larry the Locksmith," on account of hisability to pick locks. He was tried and sentenced to a number of yearsin the penitentiary, and departed from Oakdale stolidly refusing tofurnish the police with the identity of his "pal."
Easter was drawing near, and Grace was radiantly happy. Anne, whoseengagement had stretched into the eighth week, would be home thefollowing day. Mrs. Gray was looked for hourly and the boys were comingfrom college on Monday.
"We certainly will have a reunion," Nora O'Malley exclaimed joyously, asshe banged her books on the window sill of the senior locker-room toemphasize her remark.
"It seems good to have Grace with us once in a while," declared Jessica."Her police court duties have kept her so busy that she has deserted herlittle playmates. Have you been asked to join the force yet, Grace!" sheasked, trying to look innocent.
"That isn't fair, Jessica," retorted Grace, laughing. "I appeal to yougirls," turning to the other members of the Phi Sigma Tau, who had oneby one dropped into the locker-room. "Can you imagine me in the garb ofan Oakdale policeman?"
"Not in our wildest nightmares," Miriam Nesbit gravely assured her.
"Anne will be home to-morrow," cried Eva Allen. "I'm so glad it'sSaturday. We can celebrate. Will you come to my house?"
"We will," was the united answer.
"We'll all go to the train to meet Anne," planned Grace. "Then we'llgive her about one hour to get acquainted with her family. After thatwe'll rush her off to Eva's, back to my house for supper (mother expectsall of you), and then up to Mrs. Gray's."
"Poor Anne," said Marian Barber, "I can see her being carried home on astretcher."
"We will meet at the station," directed Grace, as she left them. "Bethere at 8.15. Don't one of you fail to be there."
As Anne Pierson stepped off the 8.15 train the next morning after anall-night ride, she was surrounded by seven laughing girls and marchedin triumph to David Nesbit's big car, which Miriam used at her ownpleasure during her brother's absence.
The eight girls managed to squeeze into it, and drove to the Piersoncottage with all speed. Here Anne was set down, told to make the most ofher hour with her family and to be prepared upon their return to saygood-bye to home for the rest of the day.
The programme outlined by Grace was carried out to the letter. The joyof Mrs. Gray at again seeing her adopted children was well worthwitnessing.
"I don't know how I ever managed to stay away from you so long!" sheexclaimed, as she looked fondly about her at the smiling, girlish faces."How I wish you might all have been with me. I should have returnedsooner, but dreaded the winter here. I do not thrive here--during theselong, cold Oakdale winters. It is because I--"
Grace placed a soft hand upon Mrs. Gray's lips. "I can't allow you tofinish that sentence," she laughed. "You are sixty-two years young, andyou must always remember it."
The old lady laughed happily at Grace's remark, then under cover ofgeneral conversation said to her, "I am greatly surprised to see Eleanorhere. How did it all come about? You never mentioned it in yourletters."
"I know it," replied Grace, "I wanted to save it until you came home. Ihave been out to 'Heartsease' several times, too, and am quite in lovewith Miss Nevin. May Anne and I come to-morrow and have a good longgossip? You must hear all about Anne's triumphs in New York."
"Come and have dinner with me," replied Mrs. Gray.
"That will be fine," returned Grace. "We two are the only ones in thecrowd who don't happen to have previous engagements, so the girls won'tfeel hurt at not being included."
"We are so glad that you came home in time for the concert," said MiriamNesbit. "It is the last entertainment the senior class will have achance to give. We hope to make a nice sum of money to add to thethousand we already have."
"I have not added my mite to your fund yet," said Mrs. Gray. "But nowthat I'm home I shall busy myself immediately with my High School girls.When and where is the concert to be held?"
"A week from next Monday, in Assembly Hall," replied Miriam. "We wish togive it before the boys go back to school. They have only ten days athome, you know."
"How anxious I am to see the boys," cried Mrs. Gray. "I found a letterfrom Tom waiting for me. He expects to arrive on Monday or Tuesday, andwill bring Arnold with him."
"I received a letter from Tom, too," said Grace. "We have also he
ardfrom the boys. David is bringing home a friend of his, Donald Earle,who, he writes, is the most popular man in the freshman class."
The evening seemed all too short to Mrs. Gray and the Phi Sigma Tau.
"Why, we've only begun to talk," said Jessica, "and here it is aftereleven o'clock."
"To be continued in our next," said Nora with a grin. "Introducing newfeatures and startling revelations."
Sunday afternoon found Anne and Grace strolling up Chapel Hill towardMrs. Gray's. Rather to their surprise they found Miss Nevin with Mrs.Gray in the library. The two women were in earnest conversation, and asGrace and Anne were ushered in, Grace's quick intuition told her thatMiss Nevin was strongly agitated over something.
"How are my own children to-day," asked Mrs. Gray, coming forward andkissing both of them warmly. Anne was then presented to Miss Nevin, whotook occasion to congratulate her upon her recent success. "Your famehas preceded you," she said with a sweet smile.
"You must tell us all about your stay in New York, Anne," said Mrs.Gray. "You are very young to have been chosen for so responsible anengagement, and I feel great pride in your success."
"Anne had two offers of engagements while in New York," interposedGrace. "One from Farman, the big manager, and one from Rupert Manton,the Shakespearian actor."
"But I am still in Oakdale," replied Anne smiling, "and have come to-dayto beg for my secretaryship again."
"You delightful child," cried Mrs. Gray. "I knew you would never desertme."
"Margaret," she said, turning to Miss Nevin, "would you care to tell mygirls what you were telling me when they came in? I have already toldthem something of Eleanor's parentage. They know that Guido Savelli isher father. Perhaps they might be of assistance in helping you decidewhat is to be done. Grace is a famous suggester."
Miss Nevin flushed and looked hesitatingly at Anne and Grace, as thougha trifle reluctant to speak.
"We shall consider anything you may choose to tell us strictlyconfidential, Miss Nevin," said Anne quietly.
"I am sure that you will," replied Miss Nevin. "What I have told Mrs.Gray is that I have received through my lawyers a letter from Eleanor'sfather. They inclosed his letter in one from them asking whether I weredesirous of acquainting him with my whereabouts.
"He has written rather a sad letter. He seems to have awakened to a lateremorse for having neglected my sister as he did. He asks for his child,and if he may see her. He has just finished a concert tour of America,and is at present in New York.
"Personally, I shall never forgive him, but have I the right to keepEleanor from her father? He is both rich and famous, and she would adorehim, for his music, if for nothing else. I have always said that whenshe became twenty-one years of age I should tell her of him, leaving toher the choice of claiming or ignoring him.
"But I never supposed for one instant that he would ever come forwardand interest himself in her. A year ago I should not have considered herfit to choose, but she is greatly changed. The two years in which shehas associated with girls of her own age have benefited her greatly. Ifeel as though I could not bear to give her up now. Moreover, this ideaof claiming his child may be merely a whim on the part of her father. Heis liable to forget her inside of six weeks."
Grace listened to Miss Nevin in breathless silence. It was all like astory-book romance.
Anne sat gazing off into space, thinking dreamily of the great virtuosowho had found after years of selfish pleasure and devotion to himselfthat blood was thicker than water. She fancied she could picture hispride when he beheld Eleanor and realized that she was his own child,and Eleanor's rapture when she knew that her father was master of theviolin she worshipped.
Suddenly an idea popped into Anne's head that was a positiveinspiration.
"Why not ask him to come down for our concert?" she said, amazed at herown audacity in suggesting such a thing. "Eleanor need not know abouthim at all. She is to play at the concert, you know. If he hears herplay he will realize more fully that she is really his own flesh andblood, and if he has any real fatherly feeling for her it will come tothe surface. That will be the psychological moment in which to bringthem together."
"Anne, you're a genius!" cried Grace. "You ought to be appointed ChiefArbiter of Destiny."
"Margaret," exclaimed Mrs. Gray, "I believe that Anne's idea is logical.Shall you try it!"
"I shall write to Guido at once," said Miss Nevin, rising. "Knowing hisdisposition as I do, it seems that I could find no better way of rousinghis interest in Eleanor. Her love of the violin is a direct inheritancefrom him, and she may reach his heart through her music. At any rate, itis worth trying."
After Miss Nevin's departure Anne and Grace entertained Mrs. Gray withthe promised gossip, and it was well toward ten o'clock before theyturned their steps toward home.
The following week was a busy one. Every spare moment outside school thesenior class zealously devoted to the concert. The High School Glee Clubwas to sing, and the mandolin and guitar club was to give two numbers.Nora O'Malley was to sing two songs from a late musical success, andJessica and Miriam were to play a duet. James Gardiner, who wasextremely proficient on the violincello, was down for a solo, whileEleanor was to play twice. The crowning feature of the concert, however,was to be contributed by Anne and Eleanor. Anne was to recite Tennyson's"Enoch Arden," and Eleanor was to accompany her on the piano with themusic that she had arranged for it.
The two girls had worked incessantly upon it, rehearsing almost everyday. Grace was the only one who had been permitted to hear a rehearsalof it, and she was enraptured with what she heard.
The boys had all arrived, and the Phi Sigma Tau divided their timeequally between concert rehearsals and social gatherings. David'sfriend, Donald Earle, was ably living up to his college reputation, andproved himself a source of unmitigated pleasure to the young peopleamong whom he was thrown. It was soon discovered, however, that he wasoftenest found in Eleanor's wake, and his eyes showed honest admirationfor the beautiful girl every time he looked at her.
Hippy, who had established a reputation as a singer of humorous songs,was asked for his services.
"I have a number of new and choice ditties that I will render withpleasure, providing I am afterwards fed," he shrewdly declared, wheninterviewed on the subject.
"It will all depend upon how well you sing," stipulated Nora.
"Then I shan't warble at all," announced Hippy. "I am a man of fewwords, but when I say I must have food for my services as a soloist, Imean it. There must be no uncertainty. Do I feed or do I not?"
"You feed," laughed Nora.
The concert was to be held in Assembly Hall, and three days before everyticket issued had been sold. People who could not attend bought ticketsand handed them back to be sold over again. The senior class, by reasonof the popularity of the Phi Sigma Tau, was considered the class ofclasses.
"We'll have to put out a 'Standing Room Only' sign," declared AnnePierson, as she viewed the packed house through a hole in the curtain.
The fateful night had arrived, and Anne, Eleanor and Grace stood in agroup on the stage, while Anne industriously took note of the audience.
"Let me look for a minute, Anne," said Grace. "I don't believe there'llbe standing room," she remarked, as she stepped aside to give Eleanor achance to peer out.
"Come on, girls," called Nora O'Malley, as a burst of applause soundedfrom the other side of the curtain. "It's half past eight, and thecurtain will go up in about two minutes."
The three girls scurried off the stage, the Glee Club filed on andarranged themselves, and the curtain rose.
Each number was applauded to the echo and in every instance the audienceclamored for an encore.
As the time for Eleanor's first solo drew near, Anne and Grace felttheir hearts beat a little faster. Nora was giving an encore to herfirst song. Eleanor was to follow her. As she stood in the wing herviolin under her arm, Grace thought she had never appeared morebeautiful.
Her gown w
as of some soft, white material and rather simply made. "Inever like to wear fussy things when I play," she had confided to thegirls.
Jessica stood directly behind her. She was to act as accompanist.
Nora O'Malley sang the concluding line of her song, favored the audiencewith a saucy little nod and made her exit.
"Come on, Eleanor," said Jessica. "It's our turn."
Well toward the back of the hall sat Miss Nevin, wearing a look ofmingled anxiety and pain. Beside her sat a dark, distinguished man inthe prime of life, who never took his eyes off the stage.
As one of the senior girls who had charge of the programme steppedforward and announced, "Solo, Miss Eleanor Savelli," he drew a deepbreath, and such a look of longing crept into his eyes that Miss Nevinunderstood for the first time something of the loneliness of which hehad written.
He covered his eyes with his hand as though reluctant to look. Then thefull, soft notes of the violin were carried to his ears, and with asmothered cry of exultation he raised his eyes and saw for the firsttime his own child in her gown of white with the instrument he loved ather throat, while her slender hand drew the bow with the true skill ofthe artist.
Before Miss Nevin could stop him, he had risen in his seat, sayingexcitedly: "It is mia bella Edith. She has come again."
Then realizing what he had done, he sat down, and, burying his face inhis hands, sobbed openly.
Persons around him, startled by his sudden cry, glared at him angrilyfor creating a commotion during Eleanor's exquisite number, then againturned their attention to the soloist.
"I must see her. I must see her," he muttered over and over again. "Sheis my child; mine."
"So you shall," whispered Miss Nevin soothingly, "but not until theconcert is over. If we tell her now, Guido, it will upset her so thatshe can't appear again this evening, and she has two more numbers."
Unabashed by the emotion he had displayed, the virtuoso wiped his eyes,and sat waiting like one in a trance for his child to appear again.
Anne and Grace were alive with curiosity as to the outcome of Anne'ssuggestion. They had eagerly scanned the house before the concert began,but had failed to locate Miss Nevin and Eleanor's father.
"I'm going out in the audience and see if I can find them," Grace hadwhispered to Anne during Nora's song, as they stood in the wing on theopposite side from Jessica and Eleanor.
Anne had nodded silently, her attention focused upon Nora, whose singingalways delighted her, and Grace, slipping quietly down to the door thatled into the hall, made her way toward the back rows of seats just intime to witness Guido Savelli's emotion at first sight of his daughter.
Back to Anne she sped with her news, and the two friends held a quietlittle jubilee of their own over the success of their plot.
There was a round of applause when "Enoch Arden" was announced. Eleanortook her place at the piano while Anne stepped forward and began thepathetic tale to the subdued strains of the music that Eleanor hadfitted to it.
Anne's beautiful voice rose and fell with wonderful expression, whilethe music served to accentuate every word that she uttered. Her audiencesat practically spell bound, and when she uttered poor Enoch's deathcry, "A sail! A sail! I am saved!" there were many wet eyes throughoutthe assemblage. She paused for a second before delivering the threeconcluding lines, and Eleanor ended on the piano with a throbbing minorchord.
There was absolute silence as the performers made their exit. Then aperfect storm of enthusiasm burst forth. Anne and Eleanor returned tobow again and again, but the audience refused to be satisfied, untilAnne, in her clear, musical voice, made a little speech of appreciation,which was received with acclamation.
The concert drew to a triumphant close. After Eleanor's second solo, sherepaired to the dressing room, where she was immediately surrounded by agroup of admiring girls and kept so busy answering questions as to howlong she had studied the violin and where, that she did not see GraceHarlowe enter the right wing with Miss Nevin and a tall, dark-hairedstranger who glanced quickly about as though in search of some one."Where is she?" he said. "Find her at once. But, no, wait a moment. Sheshall hear me play! I will win the heart of my child through the musicshe loves, I may add one little solo to your programme?" he turnedquestioningly to Grace.
"Well, I should rather think so," gasped Grace. "It is an honor of whichwe never dreamed. This concert will be recorded in Oakdale history."
"It is well," said the virtuoso. "Bring me the violin of my child. Iwill speak to her through it."
Grace flew to the dressing room, where Eleanor's violin lay in its opencase upon a table near the door. Hastily securing both violin and bow,she flitted out of the room--without having been noticed by the girls atthe further end.
"Here it is," she breathed, as she handed it to Eleanor's father. "Iwill arrange for you to play after the Glee Club, who are just going onnow."
"I thank you," replied the great man. "I pray you do not announce me. Ishall need no one to accompany me."
"It shall be as you wish," promised Grace.
There was a moment's wait after the Glee Club had filed off the stage,then Guido Savelli appeared, violin in hand.
A faint ripple of surprise stirred the audience. Who was thisdistinguished stranger! They could not identify him as belonging amongOakdale musicians.
The virtuoso made a comprehensive survey of the house, then placing theviolin almost caressingly to his throat, began to play.
His hearers listened in growing astonishment to the exquisite soundsthat he drew from the instrument. There was a plaintive, insistentappeal in his music that was like the pleading of a human voice. It wasa pathetic cry wrung from a hungry heart.
The dressing-room door stood partly open, and as the full, sweet notesof the violin were carried to her ears, Eleanor gave a cry of rapture.
"Who is playing?" she cried. "I must see at once." She ran out of theroom and into the wing, where she could command a full view of thestage, and looked upon her father for the first time.
She stood, statue like, until the last note died away. Her eyes werefull of tears, which she made no attempt to hide. Then she turned toAnne, who had slipped quietly up and now stood beside her:
"Anne," she said almost reverently, "he is a master. His musicoverwhelms me. I felt when he played as though--he were trying to giveme some message, as though he were speaking to me alone. I suppose everyone in the audience felt the same. It is because he is a genius. Who ishe, Anne, and where did he come from?"
"Eleanor," replied Anne, her voice trembling a little, "you must prepareyourself for the greatest surprise of your life. He was speaking to youwhen he played, and it was solely on your account that he played. Hecame here with your aunt to-night."
Eleanor paled a little.
"Anne, what does all this mean?" she said. "You and Grace have actedqueerly all evening. What has this violinist to do with me!"
"That I cannot answer now," replied Anne, "but you will know within thenext hour. Your aunt wishes you to get your wraps and meet her at once.She is outside in the carriage and he is with her."
"Are you and Grace coming with us?" questioned Eleanor.
"Not to-night," answered Anne, with a little smile. "You don't needeither of us. Here's Grace," she added, as the latter hurried towardthem.
"Eleanor," said Grace, "here is your cloak and your violin. Now, kissboth of us good night and trot along, for there's a big surprise waitingfor you just around the corner, and it is the earnest wish of both Anneand I that it may prove a happy one."
CHAPTER XXIV
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
With the passing of the Easter holidays unbroken quiet settled down overOakdale High School.
The boys went back to college and the girls to High School to finish thelittle that remained to them of their senior year.
The proceeds of the concert had amounted to four hundred and seventydollars, and with a contribution of five hundred dollars more from Mrs.Gray, the members of
the senior class were the proud possessors of afund of nineteen hundred and eighty dollars, which was to be presentedto Miss Thompson on graduation night as their contribution toward thegymnasium.
The three lower classes had also raised considerable money, butcollectively it had not reached the amount earned by the seniors.
The playing of the great Savelli at the concert was still a matter ofcomment in Oakdale. There were several persons in the audience who hadpreviously heard him play, and had at once recognized him. Moreremarkable still was the fact of his being the father of EleanorSavelli, and all sorts of rumors sprang up regarding his advent inOakdale, and his affairs in general. As for Eleanor, it was some timebefore she could accustom herself to the idea of having a living father,and a famous one at that. She had gone down to the carriage on the nightof the concert wondering what was in store for her, and had scarcelystepped inside before she had been clasped in the arms of the virtuoso,and addressed as his child. Shaking herself free from his clasp, she haddemanded an explanation from her aunt, who had told her the truth, whichto her at the time had seemed unbelievable.
Her first feeling toward her father had been entirely one of pride. Heraunt had been all in all to her since babyhood, therefore sheexperienced little of the feeling of affection toward him that hemanifested for her. The fact that her father was a great artist was asource of infinite satisfaction to her, but gradually as she grew betteracquainted with him she began to experience a degree of affection forhim that in time became positive worship.
He was to remain at "Heartsease" until after her graduation, then,accompanied by Miss Nevin, Eleanor was to sail for Italy with him, thereto remain until he should begin a European concert tour in the fall.Then she would go to Leipsig and enter the very conservatory where hermother and father had met. She had resumed the final "i" so long droppedfrom her name, and now proudly signed herself Savelli.
The Phi Sigma Tau, particularly Anne and Grace, became prime favoriteswith the great violinist and were frequently invited to "Heartsease" tohear him play, an honor which was accorded to no one else in Oakdale.
The days hurried by altogether too swiftly to suit Grace and her threeclosest friends, who looked forward to commencement week with mingledemotions of joy and regret. Graduation was the goal they had beenstriving for four years to reach, but graduation meant also the partingof the ways, and as the four chums looked back over their High Schoollife it seemed to them that they could never again have quite the goodtimes that they had enjoyed in one another's society.
"'We who are about to die salute you'" quoted Nora O'Malley, as the fourgirls strolled home from school on the Friday preceding commencement.
"What a cheerful remark," laughed Grace Harlowe.
"Well, that's the way I feel, at any rate," declared Nora. "I can't bearto think that next year we'll all be scattered to the four winds, or,rather, the two winds, because Jessica and I will be together, and sowill you and Anne."
"Go to college with us, then," slyly tempted Grace.
"No," answered Nora decidedly. "I've set my heart on studying vocalmusic. I have always said that I should go to a conservatory, and sinceEleanor's father has given me so much encouragement, I've made up mymind to become a concert singer if possible. I'll stay a year in theconservatory at least, and at the end of that time I'll know whether Iam justified in going on studying."
"It's fortunate that I am going to study on the piano and that we can beat the same conservatory," said Jessica.
"And that Anne and I will be at the same college," added Grace, "if weever make up our minds what college we wish to enter."
"There is still plenty of time for that," said Anne. "I am glad thatscholarship doesn't stipulate as to what particular college--that is, ifI win it."
"You won't know that until a week from to-night," said Jessica. "What anight that will be. This year there will be an extra feature, thepresentation of the gym. money."
"I am so proud of our class," exclaimed Grace, "but I do wish we had aneven two thousand dollars to give. We lack only twenty dollars. I wonderif the class would care to make it up."
"Why couldn't the Phi Sigma Tau make it up as a parting gift to OakdaleHigh School!" asked Nora. "That would be two dollars and a half apiece.I am willing to do with that much less fuss on my graduating gown, ifthe rest of you are."
"I am," said Grace.
"So am I," replied Jessica and Anne together.
"I am sure the other four girls will be of the same mind," said Grace."I'll see them to-morrow."
The four other members of the Phi Sigma Tau were duly interviewed and byMonday of commencement week the twenty dollars had been added to thefund deposited in Upton Bank.
The prophecy made by Jessica on class day at the end of their sophomoreyear was about to be fulfilled to the letter, for the four chums hadbeen appointed to the very honors to which she had jestingly assignedthem two years before. Anne was chosen as class poet, and Jessica hadcomposed both the words and music of the class song. Grace was toprophesy the futures of her various classmates, while Nora had beendetailed to write the class grinds.
"To-day is the day of days," exclaimed Grace to her mother on Tuesday,as she smoothed out a tiny wrinkle in her class-day gown, which shelovingly inspected for the fifth time before putting it on. It was apale blue marquisette embroidered in tiny daisies, and Grace declared itto be far prettier than her graduating gown of white organdie trimmedwith fine lace.
"Nora has the dearest little pale green marquisette, mother," criedGrace with enthusiasm, "and Jessica's gown is pink silk, while Anne hasa white silk muslin with violets scattered all over it. I've seen themall, but I must say that I think mine is the nicest and you're a perfectdear, mother, for having embroidered it for me," and, giving her mothera tempestuous hug, Grace gathered her class-day finery in her arms andrushed upstairs to dress for the afternoon that the senior class lookedforward to more than to graduation night itself.
The Phi Sigma Tau met in the senior locker-room for the last time andproceeded to Assembly Hall in a body.
"How strange it seems to be going to Assembly Hall instead of the gym.for class day," remarked Miriam Nesbit to Grace.
"Yes, doesn't it?" returned Grace. "But when we come lack here next yearas post-graduates, we'll have the satisfaction of knowing that we helpeda whole lot in getting the good old gym. ready for the next class, evenif we couldn't hold forth in it."
The regular class day programme was carried out with tremendousenthusiasm. The girl chums were applauded to the echo for their capablehandling of the honors assigned them. Nora in particular rose to heightsof fame, her clever grinds provoking wholesale mirth.
"She must have made notes all year," whispered Anne to Jessica undercover of a laugh which was occasioned by the story of one absentmindedsenior who pushed her glasses up over her forehead, searched diligentlyfor them through the halls and locker-room, and, convinced that she hadlost them on the street, inserted an advertisement in one of the Oakdalenewspapers before going home that night.
"She did," replied Jessica. "She has always said that she wanted the jobof writing the grinds."
At the close of the exercises Grace delivered a spirited senior chargewhich was ably answered by the junior president. The class song composedby Jessica was sung, then graduates and audience joined in singing "AuldLang Syne." Then the air was rent with class yells, while the graduatesreceived the congratulations of their friends and then repaired to theirbanquet.
Wednesday brought Hippy, Reddy and David and also Donald Earle toOakdale, while Tom Gray and Arnold Evans appeared on Thursday afternoon,to the relief of their young friends.
"Better late than never," called Tom Gray as he and Arnold hurried offthe train to where David and his three friends stood eagerly scanningthe train for them.
"We thought it would be never," retorted Hippy. "We were about topostpone commencement until some time next week, and order the flags athalf mast, but now things can proceed as usual."
Inside of an hour the two young men were crossing the Nesbit's lawn andmaking for the broad veranda where a bevy of pretty girls stood ready togreet them.
"We are so glad you got here at last," cried Grace. "If you hadn't comeon that train you wouldn't have seen us graduate. The next train fromyour part of the world doesn't get in until ten o'clock."
"We missed the early train and had to wait two hours," replied Tom, "butnow that we are here, you'll find that you can't drive us away with aclub."
"We shan't try to," said Nora. "Now, if you were Hippy--"
"Nothing could drive me from your presence," interrupted Hippy hastily,"so don't try it. Let's change the subject. That word club has an uglysound. It makes me nervous."
"Never mind, Hippy," said Miriam. "Nora shall not tease you. I'llprotect you."
"Nora, go away, I am protected!" exclaimed Hippy, and, getting behindMiriam, he peered forth at Nora with such a ludicrous expression thatshe laughed, and immediately declared a truce by allowing him to sit onthe rustic seat beside her.
It was a memorable dinner. The girls in their dainty white graduatinggowns, their eyes alight with the joy of youth, and the young men withtheir clean-cut, boyish faces made a picture that Mrs. Nesbit viewedwith a feeling of pleasure that was akin to pain.
The start for Assembly Hall was made at a little after seven, as thegirls were to join the senior class there, and proceed to the stage,where the class was to sit in a body. Nearly every member of the classcarried flowers of some description that had been given to them by theirfamilies and friends.
Grace and her chums were supremely happy in that their little socialworld had turned out to do them honor. Mrs. Gray and Miss Nevin,accompanied by Eleanor's father, were seated near the front with Mrs.Gibson and the Southards, who had arrived at Hawk's Nest on the previousday. Grace's father and mother, Judge Putnam and his sister, Mrs.Nesbit, Nora's brothers and sister and Jessica's father were scatteredabout through the house.
When the graduates took their places upon the stage, there wastumultuous applause. To the citizens of Oakdale who had known the youngwomen from babyhood, the present class seemed the finest Oakdale HighSchool had yet turned out.
"Bless the dears," said Miss Thompson to Miss Tebbs, as the girls filedpast them and on to the stage. "They are without exception the mostbrilliant lot of girls I have ever had charge of. But of them all thereis no one of them quite equal to Grace. She is the ideal type of allthat a High School girl should be, and when I say that I have paid herthe highest compliment in my power."
The slight difficulty that had arisen between Grace and the principalduring Grace's junior year had long since been adjusted by Eleanor, whohad gone to Miss Thompson with a frank confession of her transgressionsduring her junior year. Miss Thompson had freely forgiven her and hadfully appreciated the sense of honor that had prompted the deed.
As the class was large, fifteen girls from the entire number had beenchosen to deliver essays and addresses. Among these were Anne, Eleanor,Grace, Miriam and Nora.
"I'm just as well satisfied that I was not chosen," Jessica whispered toEva Allen, as Grace stepped forward to deliver the salutatory address.
"It's easy to see who is first in the hearts of Oakdale," returned Eva."Grace won't be able to begin this evening if they don't stop it."
The moment that Grace had risen to deliver her address the commotionbegan, and it was not until Miss Thompson rose and smilingly held up herhand for silence that the noisy reception accorded Grace died away.
Anne, as valedictorian, was only a trifle less warmly received, and hereyes grew misty as she remembered how she had come to Oakdale poor andunknown, and entirely without friends, until Grace had so noblychampioned her cause.
The bestowal of the freshman prize followed the graduates' addresses.Then came the announcement of the winners of the scholarships. Therewere two of these and every one of Anne's friends listened anxiously forher name. They were not disappointed, for Anne's name was the firstcalled. She had won the Upton Scholarship of two hundred and fiftydollars a year, at whatever college she should decide to enter.
After the scholarships had been disposed of, a representative of each ofthe three lower classes in turn, beginning with the freshmen, presentedthe gymnasium money to Miss Thompson.
The freshmen had collected over three hundred dollars, the sophomoresfive hundred and the juniors six hundred and fifty dollars. Lastly,Grace rose from her place among her class and presented Miss Thompsonwith a check for the two thousand dollars, part of which had figured inthe limelight of publicity. And there was one girl in the row ofgraduates whose heart beat uncomfortably faster for a moment as shethought of how differently it might have all ended for her had it notbeen for the fearless energy of Grace Harlowe.
It was over at last, the graduates received their diplomas and wereadmonished as to their future careers by the president of the Board ofEducation, whose speech concluded the exercises.
As they were leaving the stage, Jessica, whose eyes had been anxiouslysearching the audience from the beginning of the exercises, gave alittle cry and hurrying down the steps, rushed straight into the arms ofa brown-eyed girl in a traveling gown who stood waiting at the foot ofthe steps.
"Oh, you dear Mabel," cried Jessica joyously. "Where did you come from!"
"Mother and I didn't get in until almost nine o'clock, so we came hereat once," replied Mabel Allison. "Mother is over there. Come and seeher."
"I have been so disappointed," declared Jessica. "We hoped you would behere for class day, and when you didn't come to-day I gave up indespair."
"We intended to start last Friday, but mother was ill for a day or two,and that delayed us. You know it is quite a journey from Denver here."
Jessica and Mabel quickly made their way to Mrs. Allison, and a momentor two later were surrounded by the Phi Sigma Tau, and marched off intriumph to Mrs. Gray, who was in the midst of a group of her intimatefriends.
After a great deal of handshaking and general greeting, the entire partyof guests, young and old, set off for Mrs. Gray's beautiful home.
The young people had elected to walk and strolled along through thewhite moonlight, care free, the world before them.
The older members of the party who had ridden to the house were awaitingthem on the veranda. Soon after they all repaired to the dining room,where a collation was served them at two long tables, at the close ofwhich toasts were in order, and every one was "drunk down" in the fruitpunch provided for the occasion.
When the gamut of toasting had been finally run, Mr. Harlowe arose andsaid:
"I have been appointed as spokesman by a committee composed of thefathers, mothers, brothers and sisters of the eight young women who arethe cause of all this celebration. The committee of which I speak maynot in any sense compare with that august body known as the Phi SigmaTau, but nevertheless it can boast of at least having held severalsecret sessions, the result of those sessions being this:
"A long time ago I promised my daughter Grace that my graduation gift toher should be a trip to Europe. Knowing what an addition to the trip thesociety of her young friends would be, I interviewed those responsiblefor the welfare of the Phi Sigma Tau, and it was decided that hersorority should accompany her.
"As certain members of the aforesaid committee also feel entitled tovacations, it is quite probable that the Phi Sigma Tau will sail with atleast a round dozen of chaperons. In fact, I have seriously consideredchartering a liner. Now I have done my duty and any one who wishes maymake remarks."
Then a perfect babble arose, and every one tried to express theiropinion at once. As for the Phi Sigma Tau, they were in the seventhheaven of rapture.
Even Anne, who in spite o
f Mr. Harlowe's assurance, knew that for herthe trip was practically impossible, rejoiced for her friends' sake.
"Come here, Anne," commanded Mrs. Gray from the head of the table.
"Anne is my own dear child," said the old lady. "In the past four yearsshe has been not only my secretary, but a daughter as well. As herfoster mother, I claim the privilege of sending her to Europe. It shallbe my graduation gift to her."
"Three cheers for Mrs. Gray," proposed Hippy, rising, and they weregiven with a will.
"And are all of you boys going, too?" Grace asked delightedly of TomGray.
"Going? Well, I rather think so," he replied with emphasis.
"We are going all at once and with both feet foremost," declared Hippy."First we shall all be sea sick. After that we shall prowl aboutWestminster Abbey and ruin our eyesight reading inscriptions on tombs.After that we shall be arrested in France for our Franco-Americanaccent. We shall break our collar bones and bruise our shins doingstrenuous Alpine stunts, and we shall turn a disapproving eye uponRussia and incidentally expose a few Nihilists. We shall fish in theGrand Canal at Venice and wear out our shoes prancing about Florence ona still hunt for old masters.
"Last, and by no means least, we shall sample everything to eat fromEnglish muffins to Hungarian goulash."
"I knew he'd end with something like that," sniffed Nora contemptuously.
"I am surprised that he ended at all," laughed David.
Those who have followed Grace Harlowe through her four years at HighSchool, will hear from her again in college.
In "Grace Harlowe's First Year at Overton College" are set downthe eventful happenings of her freshman year, and her many friends willfind her to be the same generous, warm-hearted young woman who won theiradmiration and respect during her High School days.
THE END.
Grace Harlowe's Senior Year at High School Page 23
