by Nell Speed
CHAPTER III.
GRESHAM.
Gresham at last after a very pleasant trip! We had picked up blue-coatedgirls all along the road, and by the time we reached the little town onthe outskirts of which our school was situated, the train seemed to berunning over with girls.
"There must be a million of them," I thought; but as Gresham could onlyaccommodate one hundred and twenty-five, I was wrong. Some of them hadmothers or fathers with them, and some of them big brothers or sisters.Most of them had some one; at least, most of the new girls.
The old pupils hugged and kissed one another and all seemed to be gladto get back to school. The new girls looked sad and miserable, even theones who had their mothers with them. And a few lonesome ones who hadbrought themselves, like "Orphan Annie" (there, I slipped again andcalled Annie Pore by that obnoxious name!) or me, looked like scaredrabbits. I wasn't scared a bit, and when I saw the old girls hugging andloving one another, flaunting their intimacies, as it were, I said:
"Don't you mind, Page Allison. You are going to know all of those girlsand like a lot of them, and a lot of them are going to like you; andthey are just a few of the million friends you are going to make."
In the crowded confusion at the little station, I was separated from theTuckers and noticed that poor Annie was put in a bus filled withSeniors, who looked at her rather askance. Her ungainly telescope waspiled up with the natty suitcases by the driver's seat, and I saw himpoint at it and wink at the driver of the bus where I had found a seat.
The girls in the bus with me were very kind and friendly. There wereseveral mothers along and they looked at me cordially, and in a fewminutes I knew the names of all the passengers and they knew mine. Bythe time the straining horses had pulled the heavy bus through thecrooked streets of the quaint little town, up and down the many hillsand finally up the last long hill to Gresham School, the whole load ofgirls and mothers had been jolted into an enforced intimacy.
Bracken, my home, was situated in what persons from the mountains call aflat country but which we call rolling, as it is when compared to thetidewater counties. So the hills of Gresham seemed wonderfully steep tome, and as we pulled to the top and stopped in front of the school, andI realized we could actually see the mountains, I gave voice to along-drawn "O--h!" of delight.
We piled out of the bus, and for a moment I stood looking at thewonderful view before I even noticed the school building.
"I am so glad you like it," said a soft voice at my side. It belonged toa quiet-looking girl who had come up with us. She looked a little olderthan the rest of the girls and certainly was much more dignified. "Ifind if a new pupil notices the mountains first, she is pretty apt notto kick because they have dessert only twice a week. One can't haveeverything in this world, and a mountain view is more filling in the bigend than dessert."
"It is splendid! You have been here a long time?" I asked.
"Yes, many years; and now I am a pupil teacher. This place seems morelike home than any other in the world to me," and she took me by thearm. "Come on with me, Page. I am going to call you Page and I do wishyou could call me Margaret, but now that I am a near teacher I have tobe called Miss Sayre. I am going to introduce you to Miss Peyton, theprincipal."
"Oh, you are kind to me and I am so much obliged!"
"Give the bus driver your trunk check and in his good time he willdeliver your trunk. Come on, so you can get into the office before therush of Seniors."
Just then the vehicle with Annie Pore in it, looking too forlorn forwords, came rattling up. Her hat was knocked over one eye and she hadlost all of the cheerfulness that she had gained on the train with thedelightful Tuckers. No one had paid any attention to her on the ride,except to look her up and down and make whispered jokes at her expense.I have found out that girls can be the most cruel creatures in theworld, just from pure thoughtlessness and lack of imagination. Theydon't know how to "Put yourself in his place." They don't mean to hurt,but they do hurt all the same. I found during the ensuing year that thatsame busload of Seniors included many a fine character, but not one ofthem seemed to have imagination enough to know what Annie Pore wassuffering.
"Miss Sayre," I said impulsively, "please take this girl with you. I mether on the train and she seems so forlorn."
"We'll miss our chance to reach Miss Peyton ahead of the others, unlesswe hurry," she said, looking a little impatient at my request.
"I'm sorry. I think I ought to wait for her, but don't let me detainyou," and I went forward to meet poor Annie.
Of course, Miss Sayre came, too. "I might have known that a girl whonoticed the mountains first thing would have character enough to dowhat she thought was right," she whispered as she followed me.
"This is Annie Pore, Miss Sayre," I said, as I helped the cramped girlout of her uncomfortably small quarters. Miss Sayre shook her handcordially and I hoped Annie did not hear the titter as one of theSeniors nudged another and said in an audible whisper: "Annie Pore, poorOrphan Annie." I hated myself for having had the same thought.
"Where is your trunk check, Annie? Give it to the bus driver," said MissSayre, kindly.
"I haven't a trunk," said Annie faintly, "just a telescope."
"By their luggage ye shall know them," said a stylish girl who wasclambering out of the vehicle. She spoke in a rasping tone with a nasaltouch.
Annie Pore made a ten strike right then and there with me and with allof the girls who heard what she said, and those girls who did not hearit soon heard about it. She drew herself up, no longer timid but withwhat Dum Tucker afterwards called "Annie's stage presence," and in hersingularly clear, full voice, that voice that we were all to be so proudof, said:
"Not by their luggage ye shall know them, but by their voices." And witha dignity that a sagging skirt and crooked-seamed jacket could notlessen, Annie Pore walked to the front of the carry-all and demandedfrom the grinning driver her bursting telescope.
A shout went up from the Seniors. "Annie, Annie, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah!"
"So, Mabel Binks, she got your goat that time," laughed abright-looking, auburn-haired Senior.
"I don't know what you mean, Sally Coles. Orphan Annie's remark seemedto me to be without point," and Mabel Binks haughtily demanded a veryswell new alligator bag from the front seat.
"Well, if you don't know that your voice needs greasing, it is not forme to break it to you, Mabel." Mabel flounced off, and all her stylishclothes, beautifully-hanging skirt, well-cut jacket, and jaunty velvetsailor hat, did not give dignity to her.
Pandemonium reigned as we entered the spacious hall of the mainbuilding. Girls, girls, girls! Little and big; fat and thin; pretty andplain; laughing and crying; alone and attended, they swarmed overeverything.
"We have lost our chance to get first at the principal, but I wouldn'thave missed seeing Annie Pore take down that common, purse-proud MabelBinks for a million, as poor as I am," whispered Miss Sayre. "You girlssit here and wait for me, and as soon as there is an opening we'll slipin."
"Oh, how could I ever have made up my mind to leave my Father and comehere?" wailed Annie, crumpling up into an ignominious heap, all herdignity gone.
"Now look here, Annie Pore," I scolded, "anyone who could jaw back at aSenior as you did just a moment ago has got backbone, and you have justgot to get a brace on you and cheer up."
"Oh, but you are different. You make friends so readily. I am so easilyembarrassed," and the poor thing wept anew.
"I don't make friends a bit more easily than you do. I just want to makethem, that's the difference. Haven't you made friends with me?"
"Oh, have I really?"
"Of course you have. Would I be ragging you this way if I didn'tconsider myself your friend? Haven't you made friends with all three ofthe Tuckers, and now with Miss Sayre?"
Annie was somewhat consoled and tried to take a more cheerful view oflife. We had completely lost sight of our traveling companions. They hadevidently been admitted among the first to the principal's office
. Allof the girls who were accompanied by their parents or guardians weregiven preference in having their rooms assigned them, so that theirloved ones could see where the daughters were to be placed and then taketheir departure on the outgoing trains.
We were so hidden by the swarming girls, we despaired of ever beingfound again by Miss Sayre; but I persuaded Annie that we would certainlybe placed by bedtime as both of us had been registered during thesummer; and in the meantime, it was rather fun to watch the girls andtry to guess where they came from and if any of them were to be in ourclasses.
Mabel Binks backed up against us, talking to an overdressed girl ofabout nineteen. Both were dressed in the latest style. I knew what thosestyles were from the fashion books that Cousin Sue Lee had bought whenwe were planning my modest wardrobe.
"I am thankful to say this is my last year at Gresham," said Mabel. "Theplace has lost tone so. We came up in the bus with a mostremarkable-looking person. I am sure Mamma would not permit me to remainif she knew Miss Peyton was allowing such ordinary girls to come here."
Annie Pore's face was crimson and she looked ready to burst into tears,but the overdressed girl, whose name, I afterwards learned, wasJosephine Barr, and who was a thoroughly kindly person, remarked:
"Oh, yes, I heard about that girl. Sally Coles tells me she iswonderfully pretty and quite a lady, also that she got a yell from theSeniors for her quickness in responding to a sally from you."
I pinched Annie's arm and whispered: "What did I tell you? Two more newfriends, Sally Coles and this big girl who has just punctured MabelBinks' conceit."
"Come along, girls," and Miss Sayre pushed her way to our retreat. "Ithink we can get into the office now. How do you do, Josephine? I amglad to see you back," and she shook the big girl's hand cordially. "Iwant to introduce you to two new girls and ask you to see that they meetthe crowd."
"All right, Margaret, what you say goes. I was a freshy myself once andknow how it feels." She gave us a cordial grip and assured us we mustcall on her if we needed anything, friendly counsel or protection oreven soothing syrup.
"Jo is a fine old girl," said Miss Sayre, as she hooked one arm in mineand the other in Annie Pore's and drew us into the office. (I noticedthat she had completely ignored Mabel Binks.) "She would fight to thefinish for her friends. Her clothes are impossible, but we mustn't judgethe poor thing by her clothes. They've got so much money, they don'tknow what to do with it. I'm real sorry for her."
It seemed a queer cause for pity to Annie and me, but Miss Sayre wasintroducing us to Miss Peyton and we could not ask her why riches wereto be pitied. I liked Miss Peyton from the minute I saw her and Ibelieve she liked me. Her countenance was a noble one, her manner frank,and her voice sounded like music.
"I am going to put you into the room with some sisters, Page. I hope youwill get along well together. If everything is not pleasant, comedirectly to me. You are No. 117 in Carter Hall. I will see all the girlsto-morrow and classify them. Miss Sayre, will you please get someone toshow Page her room? Now I will talk to Annie Pore and assign her herroommate." And Miss Peyton went on quietly with what might have been aconfusing task, but which she managed as calmly as a Napoleon marshalinghis troops.
I found my way to 117 Carter Hall with the help of an old girl. I wasnaturally quite interested to know what the sisters were to be like whowere to be my roommates for the year. The door to 117 was open and Iheard sobbing.
