CHAPTER XXII
A MYSTERY CLEARED
For the proverbial nine days, tongues wagged furiously at Highland Hall;but seemingly to good purpose. The girls who had allowed doubts ofSallie and Marjory to creep into their hearts now strove earnestly tomake up for their former unjust suspicions. Even the Seniors came downfrom their lofty perches long enough to stuff both girls so full ofcream puffs and chocolate creams, dill pickles, ripe olives and angel'sfood cake that for three days after this never to be forgotten feastthey were unable to eat their regular meals.
"As for my legs," laughed happy Marjory, after the next social evening,"they're just ready to drop off--I've had so many invitations to dance."
"So have I," said Sallie. "Isn't it great!"
"And the way those two Seniors scrapped over Marjory at the spell downtoday!" exclaimed Maude. "They both called at once and she was the veryfirst one called. The rest of us were green with envy."
"We've all been more popular lately," said Bettie. "I'm afraid Laura didus more harm than we realized."
"I think so, too," said Jean. "I've felt all this week as if large blackclouds had rolled away and let a great big chunk of sunshine drop rightdown into Highland Hall."
"There's one cloud left," mourned Henrietta. "I don't get a single scrapof encouraging news about my father; and now, every time I look at poorold Abbie, I say: 'Just suppose anything happens to my grandmother andthe family money. Where will _I_ be? Right here washing windows likeAbbie and looking for seven years' bad luck because I've smashed alooking glass.'"
"Poor Abbie has enough foolish superstitions to keep her in bad luck forninety years," laughed Jean. "You and Sallie seem to be haunted by thesame nightmare. I'll promise you both this; on the day that you andSallie get to looking just like Abbie, I'll start for Europe on foot."
With Laura gone, Highland Hall seemed really a different place. Now,except for occasional scraps among some of the older pupils, onerealized that there was a wonderful spirit of friendliness among thegirls. Even the once frosty Seniors had thawed to an unusual degree.
"They've gotten used to themselves," explained Sallie, who had hadalmost six years' experience with Seniors of assorted kinds. "At firstthey are always so set up over all their privileges that they just can'tassociate with ordinary girls; but after a few months of solitarygrandeur they are _glad_ to climb down off their perches and associatewith the rest of us. Now that they're asking us to their spreads andcoming to ours they're having much better times than they did earlier inthe year."
"Of course," said Maude, with one of her funny grimaces, "you can't'spread' so very much on thirty cents a week; but our popcorn party wasall right and when we all chipped in and bought a barrel of apples--thatwas great. The Seniors' heels looked just like anybody else's when theydove to the bottom of the barrel for the last ones. And our molassescandy pull in the laundry--"
"Ugh!" groaned Mabel, "I was just like a web-footed duck--my hands, Imean. Cora had to scrape me all over with a knife and she didn't carehow much skin she got. It was even on my shoes--"
"What! Your skin?"
"No, the candy. Some folks can pull it when it's hot and sticky but Inever can. It just gets all over the place."
"Anyway," said Marjory, wickedly, "the Seniors laughed until they cried,seeing you try, so you contributed something to the entertainment."
"Isn't it lovely to have friends?" said Sallie, a little later, when shewas seated beside Marjory on the veranda steps.
"Yes," returned Marjory, a little wistfully, "but I'm not sure that I'mexactly pleased with some of my newest ones. Augusta and Grace Allentold me yesterday that they never _did_ like Gladys. And Isabelle saysshe's ashamed to have Clarence know that she ever went with Gladys.Isn't that just awful--to go back on anybody like that! Of course I don'tcare much for Isabelle or Augusta, anyway; but I did think I might likeGrace. But now I'm not going to. I like friends that _stick_."
"So do I," agreed Sallie, heartily. "And I think we both have some ofthe sticking kind."
One spring morning just after morning prayers when all the pupils weregathered in the Assembly room and Miss Woodruff was ready to call theroll, Doctor Rhodes stood up and said: "One moment, please."
There was a little creaking all over the room as the girls settledthemselves in listening attitudes. Doctor Rhodes was sure to beinteresting.
"I have a little confession to make," said Doctor Rhodes. "Perhaps someof the older girls will remember that I called them into my officeimmediately on their arrival last fall, told them a piece of very sadnews and asked them to keep a secret for me."
Some of the seats creaked again as several of the older girls noddedtheir heads.
"I believe," continued Doctor Rhodes, "that you have all faithfully keptthat secret, which is still a secret from the new girls. This is it. Iam not the Doctor Charles Rhodes, whose name is in our catalogue and_has_ been in our catalogue for nearly thirty years. I am his cousin,Doctor Julius Rhodes; a physician, not a Doctor of Laws--you have noticedthe letters LL.D. after my cousin's name.
"Some of you will remember that Doctor Rhodes was ill last June atCommencement time. He died in July. I was his nearest relative; and, intime, when his affairs are finally settled, I shall inherit his estate.The lawyers considered it unwise to announce Dr. Rhodes's death at thattime, though of course there were the usual notices in the papers. Butno changes were made in the catalogue and no formal notices were sent tothe pupils; as it seemed almost certain that any such announcement wouldcause the attendance for the following year to fall off, perhaps to thelasting detriment of the school. The lawyers suggested that I takecharge of the school and keep it going, particularly as Doctor CharlesRhodes had expressed a wish to that effect.
"I was handicapped in one way. The courts were not yet ready to handover to me the surplus fund of school money in the bank. I had verylittle capital to put in and certainly no experience with boardingschools for girls. I was not a teacher. Perhaps you have noticed thatyour instructors, with two exceptions, are members of my own family.They very kindly consented to help me through this first year; and Ithink you will agree that they have proved fairly good teachers, even ifthat hasn't always been their regular profession. Miss Woodruff, ofcourse, and Miss Blossom are regular teachers. I thought I might ventureto afford two.
"I think you will agree that my most serious blunder was the engaging ofMadame Bolande--I assure you that I didn't see her first. Except for thatone regrettable mistake, everything has gone so well and soprosperously, that I have decided to tell the whole truth now (and takethe consequences if there are any) instead of waiting, as my lawyersadvised, until my cousin's estate is fully settled. I shall feel happierwith everything quite open and above board. That's all, except that Ifeel much indebted to the young ladies who have so kindly kept my secretto the present time."
Of course, for a day or two after that, Highland Hall buzzed again withexcitement and the newer girls besieged the older ones with questions.
"Doctor Charles Rhodes," explained Sallie, "was a perfectly lovely oldman. Everybody just adored him; he was so gentle and sweet. He hadn'tany family of his own left; but he seemed, some way, as if he wereeverybody's grandfather. He was wonderfully good to me and to poor oldAbbie too. In his time we had our pocket money just as the other girlsdid--out of his own pocket, I suppose. If Abbie had been bright to startwith she wouldn't have been the forlorn creature that she is now. Hegave me every chance to learn; and I'm sure that Abbie had the samechances but was too stupid to take them. Probably no one but a kind manwould have kept Abbie; she's never been good for very much.
"But when this new Rhodes family came, it was all so different. Atfirst, I didn't like Doctor Julius Rhodes at all--or any of his family.But after awhile I began to see that things were not so terribly easyfor _them_. The housekeeping job proved awfully hard on poor Mrs. Rhodesand she just sort of stiffened up under it in a queer way. I guess she'sa good deal of a mummy anyway and this job makes her more
so. She _is_harder on Abbie and on me than the old housekeeper used to be; but atthat her looks are the worst part of her."
"Well," agreed Henrietta, "she can't help her looks--that's the way shewas made."
"I like Dr. Julius Rhodes much better than I did at first," continuedSallie. "I hated him at first. Of course he doesn't look one bit likehis cousin; that was one reason. In the next place, I hated having thosepeople flock down here in my dear old Doctor Rhodes's own home; and inthe third place, it didn't seem quite right to me to keep a thing likethat hidden--to let people go on supposing that it was still DoctorCharles Rhodes when it wasn't. But I overheard Dr. Rhodes and one ofthose lawyers talking in the office one day and I gathered then thatDoctor Rhodes didn't like keeping that secret himself--he _wanted_ totell, but the lawyer said it wasn't good policy. And now, even if thisDoctor Rhodes isn't a lovely, gentle, sweet old man like Doctor Charles,I think he makes a very good head for this school. And when he is ableto handle the school funds, there will be more regular teachers and hewon't have to work his family quite so hard."
"At that," said Maude, "the family isn't so bad. Mrs. Henry is a dear,everybody says that old Miss Emily is terribly thorough and Miss Juliacertainly makes the girls practise. And you all know, I'd _gladly_ swapMiss Woodruff for any one of them--I still have seven pages of AmericanHistory to learn by heart and recite."
"But tell me," pleaded Henrietta, "did they really open the girls'letters, as Cora thought they did, to see if they'd written home aboutthat secret."
"Mercy, no!" replied Sallie. "They _have_ to look over the addresses onthose letters. They do it every day. Your folks wouldn't get half ofyour letters if they didn't--the girls are always leaving off towns orstates or stamps. But only _one_ of them ever writes 'Dear Clarence' onthe outside of her envelope."
Girls of Highland Hall: Further Adventures of the Dandelion Cottagers Page 23
