The Little Colonel at Boarding-School

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER I.

  OFF TO BOARDING-SCHOOL

  SOMETHING unusual was happening at Locust. Although it was early inSeptember, and the heat and dust of a Kentucky summer still lingered inevery corner of Lloydsboro Valley, the great house with its vine-coveredpillars was being hastily put in order for winter closing.

  Rob Moore, swinging his tennis racket as he sauntered down the avenueunder the arching locust-trees, stopped short with a whistle ofsurprise. The tennis net was down. He had come at the Little Colonel'sinvitation for a farewell game, as they were both to start to school onthe morrow, she in the Valley, and he in town. He could not understandthe sudden removal of the net.

  Then he noticed that every hammock and garden-chair had disappeared fromthe lawn. Not even the usual trail of magazines and palm-leaf fans wasleft on the grass, to show that somebody had been spending a comfortablehour in the shade. Usually at this time in the afternoon there was aflutter of ribbons and white dresses somewhere back among the trees; butthe place was deserted now. The wicker tea-table was gone from itscorner on the piazza. The rugs and cushions which had filled the cosycorners behind the vines were packed away. The lace curtains were downin the long drawing-room, and, peering through the windows which openedto the floor, he saw a coloured man, busily shrouding the handsome oldfurniture in linen covers.

  "What's the matter, Alec?" asked Rob. "What has become of everybody?"

  "Done had bad news from Ole Colonel las' night," answered the man."Walkah telegraphed from Hot Springs that ole Marse's rheumatiz is wuss,and Mis' Sherman she's gwine down to stay with him awhile, an' the youngladies is gwine to bo'din'-school. We all's fixin' to shet up the placetill Chris'mus."

  Rob gave another long whistle, shrill and loud. "Boarding-school!" heexclaimed. "Well, this is the biggest surprise out!"

  His whistle was answered from the upper hall by a clear high trill,which had been the Little Colonel's signal for him since the firstsummer they had played together. Giving the answering call he steppedinside the hall, and standing at the foot of the stairs peered upanxiously at the laughing face leaning over the banister-rail above him.

  "Come down, Lloyd, and tell me all about it," he demanded.

  "I can't now," she replied, in an important tone, smiling tantalizinglyat the tall, broad-shouldered boy who shook his racket at her with athreatening gesture. "Mothah has gone to town, and Mom Beck is packingmy trunk. I have to show her what things to put into it. Betty is downthere somewhere. She'll take the edge off yoah curiosity. Betty," shecalled, catching sight of a pink dress whisking through the lower hall,"don't tell Rob what school we are going to. Make him guess."

  "All right," answered Betty, with a mischievous light in her brown eyes,as she tossed back her curls and led the way out to the stone steps."We'll have to sit out here. All the hammocks and porch-chairs arepacked away in the attic," she explained, as she spread out the pinkskirt and leaned comfortably back against one of the white pillars.

  "Seems to me you've been in a howling hurry with your planning and yourpacking," said Rob, in an aggrieved tone. "I didn't hear a whisper ofall this when I was here yesterday evening."

  "The telegram didn't come until after you had gone," answered Betty."But I think godmother must have been expecting it, for in half an hourher plans were all made, and the packing began early this morning. AsPapa Jack's business will keep him away nearly all fall, there wasnothing to do but close the house and send Lloyd and me toboarding-school. You can't imagine how busy we've been. We are to leaveto-morrow morning."

  "So are we," answered Rob. "Oaklea looks nearly as deserted as Locust. Ialways hate this breaking-up time at the end of every summer."

  As he spoke, a delicious odour of hot gingerbread was wafted around thecorner of the house from the distant kitchen, and he stopped to look atBetty and smile.

  "What does that make you think of?" he asked.

  "Of a lovely September afternoon just like this," answered Betty,dreamily, half-closing her eyes and drawing in the fragrance with aslow, deep breath. "Of long shadows on the lawn and the sunshineflickering down through the locust leaves like gold, just as it is doingnow. Of Malcolm MacIntyre sitting over where you are, thrumming on hisbanjo, and of Keith and you and Lloyd and me all singing 'My OldKentucky Home.' Is that what it makes you think of?"

  "Yes, that and the chase we gave old Aunt Cindy. Wasn't she mad when Imade off with that gingerbread! I can hear her old slipper soles yet,flopping down the path after me."

  "How long ago that seems," mused Betty, "and yet it's only two years."

  "It surely must be longer than that," exclaimed Rob.

  "No, don't you remember, it was just after Lloyd's house party, when shewas eleven and I was twelve. I went abroad that fall with Cousin Carland Eugenia, and stayed with them a year. And I've only been living atLocust a year. Now I'm a little over fourteen and Lloyd's thirteen; sothat just makes it."

  "Thirteen yeahs and foah months exactly, if you're talking about me,"said the Little Colonel, coming out on the porch with a plate in herhands. "I smelled the gingahbread, so I told Mom Beck I'd have to stopfor refreshments, and she could finish packing by herself. I've piledeverything on the bed that I thought I could possibly need atbo'ding-school, and that's neahly everything I own. One needs so manythings going off from home this way. Have some?"

  She passed the plate to each one, and then, sitting down on the top stepbeside it, helped herself to a slice of the hot, spicy cake.

  "Oh, Rob, we're going to have _such_ larks!" she began. "I've alwayswanted to go away to school, and have midnight suppahs and do the thingsyou read about in stories. I've heard mothah talk about the funny thingsthat happened at the seminary when she was a girl, till I was simplywild to go there, too. And now it seems too good to be true, that we arereally going, and are to have the very same room that she had one termwhen grandfathah was away from home, and she boahded there in little oldLloydsboro Seminary just as we are going to do. There!" she added,ruefully, clapping her hand over her mouth. "I've gone and told you, andI intended to keep you guessing for an hou'ah. I knew you'd nevah thinkthat we were going to stay right here in the Valley."

  "Of course not," answered Rob. "You've been a day pupil at that oldseminary for the last five years, ever since you started to school. I'dnaturally suppose that when you packed up all you owned and started offto school you'd at least go out of the sight of your own chimney smoke.I don't see where the fun is coming in. I can't think of anything morestupid. Instead of tearing around the country on horseback afterlessons, as you've always done, riding where you please, you'll have totake walks with a gang of other girls with a teacher at the head of theprocession. It's great exercise, that, taking steps about an inch longand saying nothing but prunes and prisms."

  "Don't you believe that's all!" cried Lloyd. "We'll have to take thewalks, of co'se, but think of the time we'll have for basket-ball. We'llbe able to play the Anchorage girls by Thanksgiving, and I couldn't havebeen on the team if I'd been only a day pupil."

  "Of course we'll miss the ponies," Betty added. "Godmother tried to makesome arrangement with President Wells to let us ride every day; but hesaid he couldn't make an exception in our case without being accused ofpartiality. If we came as regular pupils we must conform to the regularrules, and could not have even the liberties we always had as daypupils."

  "Except in one thing," corrected Lloyd. "We can still go to thepost-office for our mail, instead of having all our lettahs pass throughthe principal's hands. Mothah thought it wouldn't be worth while tochange the address for just one term, especially as she wants me toforward the mail that comes to our box for Papa Jack. He changes hisaddress so often on these business trips that he couldn't keep notifyingthe postmistress all the time, so I am to do it."

  "Well, I pity _you_!" exclaimed Rob, teasingly, tapping his racketagainst the toes of his tennis shoes. "Boarding-schools are a bad lot,all that I've ever heard of. Scorched oatmeal and dried apples, with oldcats watchin
g at every keyhole! Ugh!"

  Both girls laughed at his scowl of disgust, and Betty hastened to say,"But we'll have Aunt Cindy to fall back on if the fare gets too bad.That's the beauty of staying so near home. Mom Beck is to come everyMonday to get our clothes to launder, and every Saturday to bring themback and see that we are all right, and you know she'll not let usstarve. And there aren't any old cats in this school, Rob. Miss Edith isa dear. The girls fairly love the ground she walks on, and I'm surethat nobody could be nicer and more motherly than Mrs. Gelling."

  "How about Miss Bina McCannister?" asked Rob, with a wry face. "She iscross enough to stop a clock, sober and prim and crabbed, with eyes likea fish. I went up there one day with a note from grandfather toProfessor Fowler, and she gave me such a stony glare because I happenedto let a door bang, that I had cold shivers down my spine for a week."

  "Oh, Rob," laughed Lloyd. "Aren't you ashamed to talk so? Anyhow, MissMcCannister will not bother us, because we are not in any of herclasses."

  "But she'll take her turn in trotting you out to walk, just the same.Then think what a glad procession that will be. You'll feel likeprisoners in a chain-gang."

  "Talk all you want to, if it amuses you any," said Lloyd, passing thegingerbread around once more. "It won't keep us from having a good timeat bo'ding-school."

  "Well, I'm coming out again at Thanksgiving. There's to be a big familyreunion at Oaklea this year, and if you've stood the storm and stillthink that boarding-school life is funny, I'll stand treat to afive-pound box of Huyler's best. You can let that thought buoy you upthrough all the hungry hours between that time and this."

  "Mercy, Rob, don't throw cold water on all our bright hopes like that,"cried Betty, springing up as she heard her name spoken in the hall. "MomBeck wants me. She is ready to begin packing my trunk."

  "I must go in a few minutes," said Rob, "so if you're disappearing now,I'll say good-bye till Thanksgiving."

  Betty held out her warm little hand. "Good-bye. 'Be good, sweet child,and let who will be clever,'" she quoted, as Rob gave it an awkwardshake.

  "Practise what you preach, Grandma Betty," he said, in a severe tone,but his blue eyes were smiling into her brown ones with a softened lightin them. She had been a merry little comrade in the summer just gone,and then there was something in the brown eyes that made everybody smileon Betty.

  As she turned to go she saw that the last crumb of gingerbread haddisappeared, and stooping, picked up the plate. She recognized it as hergodmother's pet piece of Delft ware. "I'll take this in before anybodysteps in it," she said.

  "Thanks," said Lloyd, lazily, without looking around, but she turned toRob as soon as they were alone. "Betty is always so thoughtful aboutsuch things. I wouldn't know how to get along without her now, and tothink, when she first came heah to live, I wasn't suah that I wantedher! I had nevah had to divide with anybody befoah, and I was afraid Ishould be jealous. But nobody could be jealous of Betty. She seems likea real suah enough sistah now, and bo'ding-school will be twice the funbecause she can go with me."

  "Betty's a brick," agreed Rob emphatically, "the nicest girl I know,except you, but I can't imagine her planning scrapes. She's too muchafraid of hurting somebody's feelings for that."

  "She's not planning scrapes. Neithah of us want to do anything reallybad. We only want to stir the seminary up a bit, and make it lively.We're growing up so fast that if we don't have some fun soon, it will betoo late. In only a few moah yeahs I'll be through school, and then I'llhave to be a debutante and settle down to be propah and young ladified.Mom Beck always used to be telling me to 'sit still and be a littlelady,' and if there's anything I despised it was that."

  "How fast the shadows grow long these afternoons," said Rob, presently,looking at his watch. "It's nearly time for me to go. Come on down tothe measuring-tree. We mustn't forget our good-bye ceremony."

  Seven Septembers were marked on the tall locust that they called theirmeasuring-tree. It towered above a rustic seat half-way down the avenue.Lloyd laid one finger on the lowest notch and another on the next mark afew inches above it.

  "There wasn't neahly so much difference in our heights when I was fiveand you six as there is now," she said, with a little sigh. "You'realmost as tall as Papa Jack, and I'm only up to yoah shouldah. You'regrowing away from me so fast, Bobby."

  Rob threw back his shoulders complacently. "Daddy says that is why I amso awkward; that my height is too much for a fourteen-year-old boy tomanage gracefully. I'll soon be through growing at this rate. Maybeafter a couple of years more I'll not have to change the mark on thetree."

  "I should certainly hope so," cried Lloyd, "unless you want to be agiant in a side-show. Heah! Measuah me."

  She stiffened herself against the trunk of the tree, standing as erectas possible, while he stuck the blade of his knife into the bark, soclose to the top of her head that he almost pinned a lock of the lighthair to the tree.

  "You've grown a lot too, this last year, Lloyd," he said, looking downat her approvingly.

  "Oh, Rob," she cried, with a quick, wistful look upward into his face."I don't want to grow up. It would be so much nicah if we could staychildren always."

  "We have had a lot of fun under these old locusts, that's a fact," headmitted, as he began cutting the date opposite the measurements he hadjust taken. Then he became so absorbed in trying to make the figuresneatly that he said nothing more until the task was done.

  Lloyd, kneeling on the rustic bench to watch him, was silent also, andfor a few minutes the only sound in all the late afternoon sunshine wasthe soft rustling of the leaves overhead.

  "If they could only stay children always!" the locusts were repeatingone to another. "Children always! That is the happiest time!" Rob,intent on his carving, never noticed the stirring of the leaves, but theLittle Colonel, who in a vague way always seemed to understand thewhisperings of these old family sentinels, looked up and listened. Asif she were one of them, she began recalling with them the scenes theyhad looked upon. How long ago seemed those summer days when she measuredup only to the first notch. Mom Beck and Rob's faithful old nurse,Dinah, sat on the bench where she was now kneeling, and watched the twochildren that the locusts were whispering about, romping up and down theavenue. How well she remembered the little blue shoes she wore, and thejingling of the bells on the gay knitted bridle, as they played horse,with Fritz barking wildly at their heels.

  The locusts had watched them in all the playtimes that lay between thefirst and last of those seven notches, eight it would be when Rob hadfinished; for it was in their friendly shade they had rolled their hoopsand spun their tops and played at marbles and made their kites. Here,too, they had set their target when he taught her to shoot with his airrifle, and up and down in the winter holidays they had passed with theirskates over their shoulders, with their sleds dragging after them, ortheir arms piled high with Christmas greens. Here they had tramped,shoulder to shoulder, whistling like two boys; here they had raced theirponies; here they had strolled and played and sung together, thestrong, deep friendship yearly growing stronger between them, as theyyearly cut a higher notch in the bark of the old measuring-tree.

  "If they could only stay children always!" whispered the locusts again,with something so like a sigh in the refrain, that Lloyd felt the tearsspring to her eyes, she scarcely knew why.

  "There," said Rob, closing his knife and slipping it into his pocket. "Imust go now."

  As usual, Lloyd walked down to the gate with him. He whistled as hewent, a musical, rollicking negro chorus, and she joined in with anaccompaniment of little trills and calls, in clever imitation of amocking-bird. But just before they reached the gate her whistlingstopped. Her quick eyes spied a four-leafed clover in the grass, and shesprang forward to get it.

  "And heah's anothah!" she cried, triumphantly. "One for you too, Rob.That means good luck for both of us. Put it in yoah pocket."

  Rob took the little charm she held out, with a skeptical smile, yet hehad imbibed to
o great a belief in such omens from his old coloured nursenot to regard it with respect. "Thanks," he said, "I have a safer placethan my pocket. I'll need all the luck this or anything else can bringme in my Latin this year, so I'll carry it to every recitation."Opening the back of his watch he carefully smoothed the green petals andlaid them inside, then closed the case with a snap. "Now I'm fixed," hesaid, with a nod of satisfaction.

  At the gate they did not shake hands, but parted as they had done somany times before, as if they expected to begin their playtime on themorrow.

  "Good-bye, Lloyd," was all he said, with a slight lifting of his cap ashe walked away.

  "Good-bye, Bobby," she answered. She stood for a moment shading her eyesfrom the sunset, with the hand that held the four-leafed clover, as shewatched him go striding down the road toward Oaklea, switching with histennis racket at the asters and goldenrod along his path. Then she wentslowly back to the house, thinking how tall he looked as he strode away.As she passed the measuring-tree she looked up at the old locustsoverhead, and sure of their sympathy, said, half-aloud, "Oh, I _wish_ wedidn't have to grow up!"