The Little Colonel at Boarding-School

by Annie F. Johnston

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE SHADOW CLUB IN DISGRACE

  "THE president wishes to see the members of the Shadow Club in hisoffice immediately. They will please pass out before we proceed with theopening exercises."

  That was the announcement Professor Fowler made in chapel next morning,and a clap of thunder from a clear sky could not have been moreunexpected or more startling in its effect. A frightened silencepervaded the room so deep that every girl could hear her heart beat. Amessage to Doctor Wells's office at that hour was almost unheard of. Healways conducted the chapel exercises himself. It must be a matter ofgrave importance indeed that would cause his absence now, and thesending of such a message.

  Lloyd and Betty exchanged startled glances, then slowly rose, followedby Allison and Kitty. Katie stood up next and looked back with a giggleat Lucy, Retta, Rose and Dora, who, being only of the Order of W. V.'s,hesitated to follow. But emphatic beckonings brought them to their feet,and they filed out into the hall after the other girls, their heads heldhigh, and smiling as if indifferent to the whisperings around them.

  But the instant the door closed upon them and they found themselvesalone in the hall outside, they began demanding of each other the reasonfor the summons.

  "You needn't ask _me_!" exclaimed Lucy. "We didn't do a thing last nighton our side of the building. I've no more idea than a chipmunk why wewere sent for."

  "Nothing happened in our wing," protested Betty and Lloyd, in the samebreath.

  "Oh, girls, I'm all in a shake!" exclaimed Retta Long, almost in tears."It frightens me nearly to death to think of being called up before thepresident. Such a thing never happened to me before, nor to any of ourfamily."

  "Oh, boo!" exclaimed Kitty, with a reassuring smile. "We haven't doneanything so killing bad that we need care. We've only had a little fun.Come on! I'm not afraid of all the king's horses and all the king'smen."

  But in spite of her brave words she sat down as shyly as the rest ofthem when Doctor Wells, tall and commanding, motioned them to seats infront of his desk. He looked so big and dignified, standing before themerect and silent, while he waited for them to be seated, that hercourage failed her. But when he sat down in his armchair and lookedgravely from one frightened face to the other, Kitty saw a twinkle inthe kind eyes behind the spectacles which reassured her.

  "We caught a ghost in the seminary last night, young ladies," he began,abruptly, with a smile twitching an instant at the corners of his mouth.It was only for an instant. His face was unusually grave as heproceeded. "It was just in time to prevent a very serious occurrencewhich would have been a great calamity to the school. It made a partialconfession which implicated some one in your club, and I have sent foryou in order that you may clear yourselves at once. Most of yourmischief has been only innocent amusement, I know, but I must have acomplete history of the club, from the beginning six weeks ago, up tilltwelve o'clock last night."

  At mention of a ghost, they looked at each other with startled faces,wondering how much he already knew. Evidently some one outside of theclub had been playing their own game, and they wondered who could havemade a confession which could truthfully have included them.Instinctively they turned to Betty to be their spokesman. With hertruthful brown eyes looking straight into the doctor's, Betty claspedher hands in her lap and gave a simple account of the club.

  She began with the verse Miss Edith had written in their albums, and thestory she had told them of the girls who walked forty miles to themountain school. She told of the impulse it had awakened in them to dosomething for the mountain people, and the club that had grown out ofthat desire.

  "We didn't intend to play any pranks in the beginning," she said; "allwe wanted to do was to cast our shadow-selves where we could never be.But just after Hallowe'en we met in our room one Saturday afternoon, anda girl hid in the closet next to ours and heard all our secrets and wentand told them, and we decided to shadow _her_ awhile, to punish her forbeing so mean. But one-half of the club lived outside the seminary, andIda Shane resigned about that time, so we established a new order, andtook these four girls in as Wraiths of Vengeance." She nodded toward thenew members.

  A grim smile flitted across the doctor's face as he listened to herexplanation of their duties, and heard the use they had made of Lot'swife and the magic lantern. But he smoothed his white moustache to coverhis amusement, and when she finished he sat in deep thought a moment,his brows drawn closely together.

  "If there was any ghost around last night, we weren't responsible forits doings," she added. "It didn't belong to the club."

  "Why did Ida Shane resign?" he asked, suddenly.

  "I don't know, sir," answered Betty. "She wouldn't tell."

  "There must have been a reason," he continued, sternly. "Do you know,Kitty?"

  "No, sir."

  "Do you, Katie?"

  "No, sir."

  The same question and the same answer passed down the line until it cameto Lloyd. She blushed a vivid scarlet and hesitated.

  "Yes, I know," she exclaimed. "But I am not at liberty to tell."

  The president held out part of a torn envelope, on which was writtenwith many flourishes in a bold, masculine hand, "Lloydsboro Seminary.Kindness of bearer."

  "Have any of you seen this handwriting before?" he asked.

  The envelope was passed from hand to hand, each girl shaking her head indenial, until it came to Lloyd. With a sick sinking of heart sherecognized the familiar penmanship that had been such a bugbear, andwhich she had hoped never to see again. All the colour faded from herface as she faintly acknowledged that it was familiar.

  "That is all," he said, carelessly tossing the paper back on the desk."I am glad to find that the club, as a club, is in no way accountablefor the affair that I mentioned. I shall have to forbid any more gamesof ghost, however, and must ask the owners of the magic lantern to taketheir property home."

  He kept them a moment longer, with a few earnest words which they nevercould forget, they were so fatherly, so helpful, and inspiring. Theywent away with a higher value of the motive of their little club and itspower to influence others; and an earnest purpose to measure up to thehigh standard he set for them, made them quiet and thoughtful all thatmorning.

  "Just a moment, please, Lloyd," he said, as she was about to pass outwith the others. "There's another matter about which I wish to speak toyou."

  She dropped into her seat again. When the last girl had passed out,closing the door behind her, he picked up the scrap of envelope again,saying, "I must ask you one more question, Lloyd. _Where_ have you seenthis handwriting before?"

  She looked up at him imploringly. "Oh, please, Doctah Wells," shebegged, "don't ask me! I'm not at liberty to tell that, eithah. Ipromised that I wouldn't, on my honah, you know."

  "But it is imperative that I should know," he answered, sternly. "Youare here in my charge, and I have the right to demand an answer."

  "I am in honah bound not to tell," she repeated, a trifle defiantly,although her lips quivered. "It would get some one else into trouble,and I have to refuse, even if you expel me for it."

  The doctor and the old Colonel had been friends since their youth, andhe recognized the "Lloyd stubbornness" now in the firmly set mouth andthe poise of the head.

  "My dear child," he said, kindly, seeing a tear begin to steal fromunder her long lashes. "It is for your own sake, in the absence of yourparents, and for the sake of the school's reputation, that I am obligedto make these inquiries. The somebody whom you are trying to shield isalready in trouble, and your telling or not telling can make nodifference now."

  Lloyd looked up in alarm.

  "Yes, it was Ida Shane whom the matron discovered trying to steal out ofthe seminary last night. Ned Bannon was waiting outside to take her onthe fast express to Cincinnati. They were to have been married therethis morning at his cousin's had they not been interrupted in theirplans."

  Lloyd gave a gasp, and the tree outside the window seemed to be goingroun
d and round.

  "We have telegraphed for her aunt. She will be here this afternoon totake her home, and the affair will be ended as far as the seminary isconcerned. Now what I must know, is just what connection have you hadwith it. Ida confessed that a member of the Shadow Club had helped hercarry on a clandestine correspondence for awhile, but for some reasonsuddenly refused to be the bearer of their letters any longer. It wasfor that reason, she said, feeling that her only friend had failed her,that she consented to the elopement, which happily has been prevented."

  "Oh, Doctah Wells! Do _you_ think I am to blame for it?" cried Lloyd,wishing that the ground would open and swallow her if he should say yes.

  "It was so hard to know what to do! It neahly broke my heart to refuseher, but--it was this way."

  With the tears running down her face she poured out the whole story,from the beginning of her devotion to Ida, to the day when, under hergrandmother's portrait she fought the battle between her love for herfriend and loyalty to the family honour.

  "There wasn't anybody to tell me," she sobbed at the last. "And if I waswrong and am to blame for Ida's running away, nobody will evah trust meagain!"

  A very tender smile flashed across the doctor's stern face and the eyesgleamed through the spectacles with a kinder light than she had everseen in them, as he leaned forward to say:

  "I have known George Lloyd many, many years, my child, and I want to saythat he has never had more reason to be proud of anything in his lifethan that his little granddaughter, under such a test, recognized theright and stood true to the traditions of an old and honourable familywhen it cost her a friendship that she held very dear. Just now Idafeels that she has been cruelly used, and that her happiness is wreckedfor life; but in time she will see differently. Poor mistaken child! Italked with her this morning. Ned is only a selfish, overgrown boy, withmany bad habits, and like many another of his kind knows that the pleathat she is reforming him is the strongest argument he can use ininfluencing her. He tells her she is doing that, but to my certainknowledge he has not given up a single vice since he has known her. Shethinks that it is her duty to cling to him. I admire her devotion in oneway, but it makes her blind to every other duty. She is too infatuatedto be able to judge between the right and wrong, and at present feelsbitter toward the whole world.

  "But by and by, when she grows wiser and learns that the judgment of asixteen-year-old girl in such matters cannot safely be trusted, she willbe glad that you helped bring the affair to a crisis. When she hasoutgrown her infatuation she will see that you have done her a kindnessinstead of a wrong, and she will thank you deeply."

  Lloyd had not felt so light-hearted for days, as when she left thepresident's office, both on her own account and Ida's. When she wentinto the class-room it was with such a bright face that every one feltthe message to the Shadow Club must have been some mark of especialhonour.

  When Doctor Wells thought the affair ended as far as the seminary wasconcerned, he had not taken the newspapers into account.

  No one could guess where they got their information. Friday morning aLouisville paper came out to the Valley with startling headlines:"_Pretty Schoolgirl at Lloydsboro Valley Attempts to Elope with Son ofProminent Judge! Granddaughter of Well-Known Kentucky Colonel PlaysImportant Part! Shadow Club in Disgrace! Ghosts and Lovers vs. GoodBehaviour and Learning!_"

  No names were mentioned, but the badly garbled account made a buzz ofwonder and criticism in the Valley. Doctor Wells came into chapellooking worried and haggard. He simply stated the facts of the case andheld up the paper with the false account, speaking of the effect such areport would have on the school.

  "It puts us in a bad light," he said. "The public will say we shouldhave been more watchful. This will be copied all over the State beforethe week is out. One girl has already been ordered home by telegraph onaccount of it."

  Lloyd did not see the paper until noon. She read it hastily, standing inthe hall, and then ran up to her room to throw herself across her bed ina violent spell of crying.

  "Oh, how could they tell such dreadful stories!" she sobbed to Betty."They might as well have published my name in big red lettahs as to havedescribed Locust and grandfathah so plainly that every one will know whois meant. He and mothah will be so mawtified! I nevah want to lookanybody in the face again, aftah having such lies copied all ovah theState about me, as Doctah Wells says they will be. I can't follow themup and prove to everybody that they are not true, and it's such an awfuldisgrace to be talked about that way in the papahs. If grandfathah orPapa Jack were home I believe they'd shoot that horrid editah!"

  The matron came in and tried to comfort her, but she would not listen.She was in a nervous state when trifles were magnified into greattroubles, and she persisted in thinking that she was too disgraced bythe false report to ever appear in public again. Betty could not coaxher down to dinner, and it was not long before she had cried herselfinto a throbbing headache.

  Toward the middle of the afternoon, exhausted by her crying, she fellinto such a sound sleep that she did not hear the girls go tramping outfor their daily walk. Betty stole in and looked at her and wentsorrowfully out again. Magnolia Budine, passing the door with hercarpet-bag on the way to the old carryall waiting at the gate, stopped amoment and listened. It was an exciting tale she was carrying home toRoney this Friday afternoon. She was glad the sobs had ceased. She hadheard them at noon, and had gone around with the cloud of Lloyd'strouble resting on her like a heavy burden.

  It was nearly dark when Lloyd awoke. Some one was tapping at the door.Before she could find her voice to say Come in, Mrs. Walton was standingbeside her. It was as if a burst of sunshine had suddenly brightened thedull November twilight. Lloyd started to scramble up, but Mrs. Waltoninsisted on her lying still. Sitting down on the side of the bed, shebegan stroking her hot forehead with soft, motherly touches.

  "I had a conversation with Doctor Wells over the telephone about thataffair in the paper," she began. "He told me what a state you were inabout it, so I immediately wrote to your mother a full explanation andsent it off on the two o'clock train, stamped 'special delivery.' She'llget it as soon as the paper, so put your mind at rest on that point. NowI've come over to tell you something I found out about you the otherday. You don't even know it yourself. You'll be surprised and glad, I'msure. It's quite a story, so I shall have to begin it like one.

  "One blustery day last week an old farmer stopped at Clovercroft andasked to see Miss Katherine. It proved to be Magnolia Budine's father.He had been there once before with a crock of apple-butter, which hebrought as a sort of thank-offering to Katherine because she had madeMagnolia so happy about the costume and the picture she took of her init.

  "Katherine said he would have made a striking picture himself as hestood there with his slouched hat pulled over his ears, a blue woollenmuffler wound around his neck, and an enormous bronze turkey gobbler inhis arms. He wouldn't go in at first, but finally stepped inside out ofthe wind, still holding the turkey in his arms.

  "It seems that there is a man living on his place who used to be an oldneighbour of the Budines when they lived near Loretta. This man has beenunable to work for some time, and is occupying the cabin free of rent.He has a daughter about sixteen who is very ill. She is Magnolia's bestfriend, and the child was afraid that Roney, as he called her, was goingto die. She wanted her picture above all things, and anything thatMagnolia wants the old fellow evidently makes an effort to get for her.He seems completely wrapped up in her. So there he stood with his bestbronze gobbler in his arms and tears in his eyes, wanting to know ofKatherine if it would be a sufficient inducement for her to drive overwith him and take the sick girl's picture.

  "She told him she never took pictures for pay, and said she would beglad to do it for nothing if it were not such a bleak day that she wasafraid to ride so far in the cold. He was greatly distressed at hisfailure to persuade her to go, for he was afraid that Roney might diebefore the weather changed, and then his little girl
would be so grievedthat she would never get over it. Katherine was so touched by the oldfellow's disappointment that she relented, and told him she would riskthe cold if I would be willing to go with her. They came by for me, andI went.

  "Oh, Lloyd, I wish you could have seen that poor, bare room where Roneywas lying. It was clean, but so pitifully bare of all that is bright andcomfortable. I looked around and saw not a picture except an unframedchromo tacked over the mantel, till my eyes happened to rest on the oldwooden clock. There behind its glass door, swinging back and forth onthe pendulum, was _your_ picture; the Princess with the dove."

  Lloyd raised herself on one elbow. "_My_ pictuah!" she cried, inastonishment. "How did it get there?"

  "That is what I couldn't help asking Roney. I wish you could have seenher face light up as she looked at it. 'That's my Princess, Mrs.Walton,' she said. 'Magnolia gave it to me. You don't know how she hashelped me through the long days and nights. Of course I can't see her inthe dark, but every time the clock ticks I know she is swinging awaythere, saying, "For love--will find--a way."'

  "I found that Roney's case is one for the King's Daughters to take inhand. She has a small annuity left her by her mother's family; that isall her father and she have to live on. That will stop at her death,and it is her one anxiety that in spite of all her pain she may hang onto life in order that her father may be provided for. The King'sDaughters sent for a specialist to come out and examine her. He says shecan be cured, so next week we are to move her into Louisville to ahospital for treatment.

  "You never saw such a happy face as hers when we told her. 'Oh,' shecried, 'I almost gave up last week. The pain was so terrible. I couldn'thave borne it if I hadn't watched the pendulum and, every time itticked, said, "I'll stand it one more second for daddy's sake, and onemore, and one more; I'm spinning the golden thread like the Princess,and love _will_ find a way to help me hang on a little longer!"'

  "So you see, dear," said Mrs. Walton, with a playful pat of the cheek,"your face and Betty's song brought hope and strength to a poorsuffering little soul of whom you never heard. Your shadow-self reacheda long, long way when it brought comfort to Roney and helped keep herbrave. What do you care for this trifle you are crying about? The wholeaffair will blow over and be forgotten in a short time. Get up and go tocounting the pendulum with Roney, and sing like the real princess youare. '_Love_ will find a way' to make us forget the unpleasant thingsand remember only the good."

  Lloyd sat up and threw both her arms around Mrs. Walton's neck. "You'rethe real princess," she said, softly, with a kiss. "For you go aboutdoing good all the time, like a real king's daughtah."

  "Now run along, little girl," said Mrs. Walton, gaily, as Lloyd slippedoff the bed. "Bathe your eyes and pack your satchel. I am going to takeyou and Betty home with me to stay until Monday morning."