CHAPTER V
THE "BROADENING EXPERIENCE" BEGINS
"I'm afraid it will look as though we didn't show proper interest,Nan. Besides, I never did like the idea of a child starting out alonefor boarding-school. None of my children ever did. But what can wedo?" It was Virginia's grandmother who spoke.
"Now, mother dear, don't worry about 'proper interest.' I've writtenMiss King all about it, so that she understands. And since I wascareless enough to sprain my ankle, and you unfortunate enough to haveto entertain the Mission Circle, we can't do anything but let Virginiago alone." This from Aunt Nan, who lay on the couch with a bandagedankle, the result of a bad wrench the day before.
Virginia spoke next. "Don't worry at all, please, grandmother. Itisn't as though I hadn't traveled way from Wyoming. I'll be verycareful--truly, I will--and try to do everything just as you wouldwish."
"Oh, I don't suppose it's absolutely necessary that one of us go. It'sjust that I have always considered it very essential that a young andinexperienced girl should be accompanied by some member of her familywhen she enters upon such an important step. But circumstancescertainly dictate the course of events, and it looks as though youmust go alone, Virginia. Miss King remembers your mother, and willwelcome you for her sake; and she assures me you are to room with awholly desirable girl of excellent family. My dear, you will try, Iknow, to be a credit to the Websters!"
Away back in Virginia's eyes gleamed a flash of light, but sheanswered quietly:
"Certainly, grandmother, and to the Hunters, too, because father isjust as anxious that I should do well as you and Aunt Nan and AuntLou. Please don't forget how anxious he is," she finished, a littlewistfully.
Aunt Nan gave her hand a friendly little squeeze. "Of course, he's themost interested of us all," she said. "We mustn't be selfish, mother.They'll send the carriage to meet you, Virginia, and Miss King willunderstand about everything. It will seem strange at first, but you'llsoon get acquainted, and love it, I know you will."
So it happened that on account of a sprained ankle and the MissionCircle, Virginia again boarded the train after five days in Vermont,and started with a heart filled with dreams and hopes to discoverwhether school were really as dear and delightful as Peggy Montforthad found it.
Hillcrest was a five hours' journey from Webster, and to-day Virginiacould look at the countrysides which they passed with a less perturbedspirit than that with which she had so unsuccessfully tried to watchthem nearly a week before. The visit in Vermont was over, and afterall it had not been so hard. She really loved dear, frank, funny AuntNan very dearly, and she somehow felt sure that Aunt Nan loved her. Asfor Grandmother Webster, perhaps she did not love her Wyominggranddaughter just yet; but, Virginia assured herself, remembering hergrandmother's warm kiss at parting, she at least did not entirelydisapprove of her. After all, it was hard to have one's onlygranddaughter from Wyoming--especially hard when one could notunderstand that Wyoming was not a wilderness.
But as she reviewed the five days, she could not find any glaringimproprieties or mistakes, except perhaps shocking poor Dr. Baxter.But even then, she had only told the truth. After all, manners arequite the same in Wyoming as in Vermont, she thought. To be sure her_a's_ were hardly broad to suit Grandmother Webster, and her _r's_quite too prominent. In Vermont there were no _r's_--that is, wherethey belonged. If used at all, they were hinged in the funniest sortof way to the ends of words. Virginia laughed as she remembered howgrandmother had called her "Virginiar" and the maid "Emmar," butpronounced Webster, which possessed a real _r_ at the end "Websta."She wondered if the girls at St. Helen's would all speak like that. Ifso, they would find her funny, indeed; but she did not mind.
New England was lovely. She did not wonder that her mother had alwaystalked so much of its fir-covered hills, its rocky, sunny pastures,its little white-churched villages nestling in the hollows, itscrimson maples, its goldenrod and asters. And this very journey to St.Helen's, which she was now taking, her own mother years before hadtaken many, many times in going back and forth to school before andafter vacations Quick tears filled her eyes as she remembered. Hermother would be glad if she knew her little daughter was on her way toher mother's old school. Perhaps she did know after all. And with thisthought came a resolve to be an honor and a credit to them all.
At one of the larger stations where the train stopped longer thanusual was gathered on the platform a merry group of persons, sayinggood-by to two girls, who were apparently going to take the train.Perhaps they also were going to St. Helen's, thought Virginia, and shestudied the group as closely as politeness would allow.
"Now, Priscilla, do be careful, and don't get into any more scrapesthis year," she heard a sweet-voiced, motherly-looking woman say, asshe kissed one of the girls good-by.
"Mother dear, I'm going to be the model of the school, wait and see,"the girl cried, laughing. "Dorothy is, too, aren't you, Dot?"
"Of course, I am, Mrs. Winthrop. Dad's going to cut down my allowanceif I don't get all A's. Oh, Mrs. Winthrop, I've had such a heavenlytime! Thank you so much for everything."
"You must come again," said a tall gentleman in white flannels,evidently Priscilla's father, as he shook hands, while his invitationwas echoed heartily by two jolly-looking boys--one of about Donald'sage, though not nearly so nice-looking, Virginia thought, and theother younger. The train gave a warning whistle.
"Priscilla, are you sure you haven't forgotten something?"
"First time in her life if she hasn't!"
"Have you your ticket and purse, daughter?"
"And did you put your rubbers in your suitcase?"
"Yes, mother, yes, daddy, I've got everything. Come on, Dot. Theconductor's purple with rage at us! Good-by."
They hurried on board the train, and into the car in which Virginiasat. Then the one they had called Priscilla apparently rememberedsomething, for she flew to the platform. Already the train was moving,but she frantically shouted to her mother:
"Oh, mother, my 'Thought Book' is under my pillow! I'd die without it!Send it right away, please, and don't read a word on pain of death!"
The younger boy on the station platform executed a kind of improvisedwar-dance as he heard the words, meaning apparently to convey to histroubled sister his intention of reading as soon as possible herrecorded thoughts. Priscilla returned to the car and took her seat,directly opposite the interested Virginia.
"If Alden Winthrop reads that 'Thought Book,' Dot, I'll never speak tohim again. 'Twould be just like him to make a bee line for my room,and capture it, and then repeat my thoughts for years afterward!"
"That's just the trouble with keeping a diary. I never do. My cousinwould be sure to find it. Besides, half the time I'm ashamed of mythoughts after I write them down."
Virginia, sitting opposite, could not resist stealing shy and hurriedglances at the two girls, because she felt sure that they also werebound for St. Helen's. She liked them both, she told herself. Theywere apparently about the same age--probably sixteen or thereabouts.The one who had been so solicitous about the "Thought Book," and whomthey had called Priscilla, had brown eyes and unruly brown hair, whichwould fall about her face. She was very much tanned, wore a blue suit,and little white felt hat, and looked merry, Virginia thought, thoughshe could hardly be called pretty. The other, whose name evidently wasDorothy, was very pretty. Virginia thought she had never seen aprettier girl. Her complexion was very fair, her eyes a deep, lovelyblue, her hair golden and fluffy about her face, her features even,and her teeth perfect. She was dressed in dark green, and toVirginia's admiring eyes looked just like an apple-blossom.Undeniably, she was lovely; but, as Virginia shyly studied the twofaces, she found herself liking Priscilla's the better. The other someway did not look so contented, so frank, or so merry. Still, Virginialiked Dorothy--Dorothy what--she wondered.
As they continued talking, she became convinced that they were goingto St. Helen's, that they had been there a year already, and thatDorothy had been visitin
g Priscilla for a month before school opened.She longed to speak to them, but, remembering what Donald had saidabout Easterners not being so sociable with strangers, she checked theimpulse, not knowing how they would regard it, and not wishing tointrude. Still, she could not resist listening to the conversation,which she could hardly have helped hearing, had she wished not to doso.
"Dear me! I wish now we hadn't been so silly, Dorothy, and done allthose crazy things. Then we could have roomed together this year."
"I know. Maybe 'twas foolish, but I'll never forget them. Especiallythe time when we dropped the pumpkin pie before Miss Green's door."They both laughed. "And, anyway, Priscilla, with Greenie in TheHermitage, if we'd been saints, we couldn't have roomed together. Shethinks we're both heathen, and I worse than you; and just because shedoes think I'm so bad, I feel like being just as bad as I can be. Iwish Miss Wallace would have the cottage alone this year. She's such adarling! I just adore her! I'd scrub floors for her! My dear, shewrote me the most divine letter this summer! It absolutely thrilledme, and I was good for a week afterward!"
Virginia looked out of the window amused. What queer ways of sayingthings! She had never heard a letter called "divine" before; nor hadshe realized that scrubbing floors and adoring some one wereharmonious occupations. She listened again. Priscilla was talking thistime.
"I adore Miss Wallace, too," she said. "She makes you want to be finejust by never talking about it. I wish I could like poor MissGreen--she seems so sort of left out some way--but she just goes at youthe wrong way. Mother and daddy think she must be splendid because sheenforces rules, and they say we're prejudiced; but I don't think theyunderstand. It isn't enforcing the rules; it's the way she has ofdoing it."
Dorothy acquiesced. "I suppose we'll have to make the best of her ifshe's there. Miss Wallace's being there, too, will make it better. I'mwondering whom I'll draw for a room-mate. Do you know who's yours?"
"No, Miss King wrote mother and said she'd selected a wholly desirableone for me. I do hope she doesn't chew gum, or want fish-nets up, orlike to borrow."
Virginia recalled Miss King's words to her grandmother--"a whollydesirable girl "--but then that was just a form of expression. Therewas no reason to believe, much as she would like to hope, thatPriscilla was to be her room-mate. At all events, if such a thing byany possibility should come to pass, she was glad she did not chewgum. As to fish-nets, she had never heard of one in a room, and as forborrowing, she had never had any one in her life from whom she mightborrow.
At that moment she saw the girls looking at her. Perhaps they hadsuspected that she, too, was a St. Helen's girl. They whispered one tothe other and exchanged glances, while Virginia, a little embarrassed,looked out of the window. She only hoped they liked her half as muchas she liked them. They began to talk again.
"My dear," this from the extravagant Dorothy, "when you see my Navajorug, your eyes will leave your head for a week! It's positivelyheavenly! Daddy had it sent from California. Whoever my room-mate is,she ought to be grateful for having that on the floor. It makes up forme."
"I won't hope for a Navajo just so long as I get some one I'll like."
Virginia thought of her two Navajos in her trunk--one a gift from herfather, the other made and given her by a New Mexican Indian, whom shehad known from her babyhood. Oh, if only Priscilla might be the one!
"Do you suppose Imogene and Vivian will be back?" Priscilla continued.
"Imogene wrote me she was coming." Somehow Virginia detectedembarrassment in Dorothy's answer. Who was Imogene? she wondered. "Youknow, Priscilla, Imogene's lots of fun. Of course, she isn't like youor Mary Williams or Anne, but you can't help liking her all the same."
"I know she's fun, Dot, but I don't think her fun is a very good kind;and I don't like the way she influences Vivian. Vivian's a dear whenImogene's not around; but the minute they're together she followsImogene's lead in everything."
Somehow Virginia knew she should not care for Imogene. But wherebefore had she heard the name Mary Williams? Just then they passed atiny village surrounded by elm trees.
"There's Riverside now," cried the girls opposite, "and Hillcrest isthe next."
They hurriedly gathered together their belongings, and put on theirhats. Virginia did the same, and as they noticed her preparing toleave the train, Priscilla smiled, and Dorothy looked at her withinterest. But there was little time for exchange of greetings, for thetrain was already stopping. As they went with their suit-cases towardthe door, Virginia, following, heard Priscilla say,
"Probably Mary Williams will be at the station. Senior officersusually meet new girls."
Then it all came back to her. Mary Williams was Jack Williams' sister,the girl in the Berkshires whom Don had liked so much. Her heart beatfast with excitement. Could she be the very same Mary Williams?
A moment more and they were all on the platform; and while Virginiastood a little shyly by her suit-case, she saw running down theplatform toward them a tall, golden-haired girl in a white sweater.Priscilla and Dorothy dropped their luggage, and ran to meet her.
"Oh, Mary, you darling!" they both cried at once, and embraced heruntil the tall girl was quite smothered.
"I knew you'd be down. I just told Dorothy."
"How is every one?"
"Is Greenie in The Hermitage?"
"Is Miss Wallace back?"
"Where's Anne?"
"Oh, let me go, please, a minute!" begged the tall girl, looking atVirginia. "I came down to meet a new girl. She must have come with youon your train. Wait and see her."
"I told you she was coming to St. Helen's," Priscilla whispered toDorothy, while the tall girl went up to Virginia.
"You're Virginia Hunter, aren't you?" they heard her say cordially,"from that wonderful Big Horn country I've heard so much about! MissKing couldn't come down to-day, and the teachers in our cottage wereaway, so she sent me. I'm Mary Williams." And she put out her hand,which Virginia grasped heartily.
"Oh," she cried, her eyes shining, "aren't you Jack Williams' sister,and don't you live in the Berkshires, and don't you know Donald Keith.He's my best friend. Oh, I do hope you're the one!"
Mary's first surprise had turned to pleasure. She shook hands withVirginia again, and more heartily.
"Why, of course, I know Donald Keith! He's the most interesting boy Iever met in my life. Why, now I remember, of course! When Miss Kingtold me your name I tried to think where I'd heard it before. Why,you're the girl Donald talked about so much, who could ride sowonderfully and shoot and lasso cattle and kill rattle-snakes!"
Virginia blushed, a little embarrassed. She did not know how suchaccomplishments would be regarded by Eastern girls. Mary apparentlyadmired them; but Virginia was not so sure of Priscilla and Dorothy.They stood a little apart and listened, certainly with interest, butwhether with approval Virginia was not sure. However, she had littletime for wondering, for Mary drew her forward to where they stood.
"Isn't it wonderful to have a girl way from Wyoming?" she said. "Andisn't it lovely that I know all about her? Her best friend is mybrother's best friend, too. This is Virginia Hunter, and these arePriscilla Winthrop and Dorothy Richards. Why, I almost forgot! You andPriscilla are room-mates. Miss King just told me."
So the longed-for joy was to become a reality! Virginia was radiant.She wondered if Priscilla were really glad. The handshake with whichshe greeted her was surely cordial. Mary and Dorothy walked on aheadtoward the waiting carriage, and left the new room-mates to follow.
"It's ever so interesting to room with a girl way from Wyoming,"Priscilla said sweetly. "You'll have to tell me all about it. I don'tknow a thing!"
"I will," said Virginia. Then she laughed. "And I really don't chewgum, or borrow things. And what is a fish-net?"
Priscilla laughed, too. "Oh, did you hear those silly things I said?Why, a fish-net is a hideous thing to put pictures in. I loathe them!"
"Besides, I have two Navajo rugs," Virginia continued. "I hope Iwasn't rude! I coul
dn't help hearing, really, and I was sointerested."
"You weren't rude at all, and I'm wild over Navajos. Dorothy will beplain peeved, because we have two in our room."
Virginia gathered from the tone that "plain peeved" must meansomething akin to jealous. But she was so happy that she forgot allabout Navajos.
"I'm so glad I'm going to room with you," she couldn't help saying. "Iknew I'd like you the moment you got on the train, and I like youbetter every minute!"
Priscilla in her turn was embarrassed. She was not used to suchfrankness of speech, especially on first acquaintance. But very likelythe manner of speaking in Wyoming, just as Virginia's speech, so fullof _r's_ was different from her own. And she was ready to go half-wayat least.
"Why," she stammered, "I--I'm--sure I'm glad, and I--I--know I'll likeyou, too." Which was quite an admission for a member of theconservative Winthrop family to make to a stranger!
The Girl from the Big Horn Country Page 5
