The Girl from the Big Horn Country

by Mary Ellen Chase

  CHAPTER X

  THANKSGIVING AND MISS WALLACE

  Going home for the Thanksgiving holidays, though not forbidden, wasdiscouraged at St. Helen's. The time was very short, there being lessthan a week's vacation allowed; and it had long been the custom,unless urgent demands came from home, for the girls to remain atschool. It was not at all a hardship, for every one had such a royalgood time. Moreover, the fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers andfriends of the girls were always welcome, as far as accommodations inthe village and at the school allowed; and for years Thanksgiving atSt. Helen's had been a gala season.

  This year it seemed even especially lovely. Indian summer had waitedto come with Thanksgiving, and every day of the vacation was a goldenone. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop came to spend the holidays with Priscilla;and Mrs. Williams, a sweet, motherly lady, whom Virginia loved atonce, came with Jack to see Mary. Virginia liked Jack, too, and thefour of them dreamed what Mary and Jack called "vain dreams" of asummer in Wyoming with Donald and Virginia. But the dreams were lovelyanyway, and Mrs. Williams said with a mysterious smile that "perhapsthey were not all in vain," which remark straightway inspired theyouthful dreamers to build more air-castles.

  Virginia liked Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, also; and her heart beat fastwith happiness when Mrs. Winthrop told her how glad she was to haveher daughter room with Virginia. Mrs. Meredith, a flashily dressedwoman with too many jewels, came for a day to bring the alreadyover-supplied Imogene some new clothes and candy enough to make herill for a week. Vivian's mother came, too. She had the same wistful,half-sad expression about her eyes which Vivian had, and Virginialiked her in spite of her silly clothes, and nervous solicitude overVivian's every step. There was something pathetic about Mrs. Winters.She might so easily have been so different! And she did truly wantVivian to be the right kind of a girl. If only she didn't care so muchfor dress and style, Virginia thought to herself, then she might seethat Imogene was not the best roommate for Vivian.

  On Thanksgiving morning, an hour before dinner, Virginia was called toMiss King's room. Wonderingly she crossed the campus to the office,where to her joy she found dear, brisk Aunt Nan, who had run down justfor the day to see how her niece was getting along. Apparently MissKing had satisfied her before Virginia entered, for she seemed veryproud of the gray-eyed little girl, who was growing taller every week.

  "I really need to stay longer to let your dresses down, dear," shesaid. "But at Christmas time we'll have a seamstress, and you can'tgrow much in four weeks. Your grandmother and aunt can hardly wait forChristmas, Virginia."

  This made Virginia happier than ever, for she had dreaded Christmas inVermont without her father. But now it was really something to lookforward to, since even grandmother wanted her so much. She and AuntNan talked with Miss King for a while, and then walked about thecampus until time to dress for dinner. St. Helen's had changed a gooddeal since Aunt Nan's day. There had been only thirty girls then, shetold Virginia, and two cottages, King and Willow. As they walkedabout, the Williamses and Winthrops, together with Anne and Dorothy,joined them, and Virginia proudly introduced Aunt Nan, who made themall laugh with the tales of her experiences and escapades at St.Helen's years ago.

  Then, the bell on the main building warning them, they hurried in todress for dinner, which The Hermitage girls and those of Hathawaytogether with their friends were to have at Hathaway. Each year onecottage was hostess to another. This year Hathaway had bidden TheHermitage, Overlook was entertaining West, and King and Willow werecelebrating together. It was a merry, happy family that assembled inHathaway half an hour later. The tables, arranged in the form of ahollow square, were gay with centerpieces of yellow chrysanthemums,and strewn with yellow leaves, gathered weeks before and pressed forthe occasion. There were dainty place-cards upon which the Hathawaygirls with skillful fingers had drawn and painted pumpkins,log-houses, turkeys, and miniature Pilgrim Fathers and Mothers; and aseach found her place at the table, she discovered also a slip of paperwith an appropriate Thanksgiving verse. This form of Thanksgivinggrace Miss King had originated. "Each one must give thanks for theday," she always said; and before the table was seated, each readaloud her verse or bit of prose.

  Miss King, who, year by year, dined with each cottage in turn, wasthis year the guest of the proud Hathaway girls. It was she who gavefirst the grace she had given on each Thanksgiving for many years:

  "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

  "Serve the Lord with gladness: come before His presence with singing.

  "Know ye that the Lord He is God: it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are His people and the sheep of His pasture.

  "Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise: be thankful unto Him, and bless His name.

  "For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting; and His truth endureth to all generations. Praise ye the Lord."

  The others followed. Virginia's was her favorite stanza from a newpoem, which Miss Wallace had read to her only the night before. MissWallace must have selected it for her. She looked toward hergratefully, as she read in her clear voice:

  "A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripe, rich tint of the corn-fields, And the wild geese sailing high;

  "And all over upland and lowland The charm of the goldenrod; Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God."

  Each having read her selection, they sang all together, as on everyThanksgiving Day for thirty years the St. Helen's girls had done, thatold, universal song of praise, which the world will never outgrow:

  "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below, Praise Him above ye heavenly host, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

  Then, with a renewed feeling of thankfulness and happiness, every onesat down, and the bountiful dinner was served. Virginia sat betweenAunt Nan and Mary, and opposite the Blackmore twins, whose father hadcome to spend the day with them. He was the jolliest man imaginable,"even though he is a minister," as Jean Blackmore often said, and keptthe entire table laughing over his jokes and funny stories. Virginiamentally compared him with the Rev. Samuel Baxter, and could notresist whispering to Aunt Nan:

  "Wouldn't Dr. Baxter be shocked if he were here?"

  "I wish he were!" Aunt Nan whispered back. "Maybe he'd be so shockedhe couldn't get back to Webster!"

  They sat for a long time after dinner was over, talking with eachother and enjoying the informal after-dinner speeches. As they leftthe dining-room, and passed into the big living-room to listen to somemusic, a large automobile stopped at the door, and a tall,white-haired gentleman in a gray overcoat stepped out and was about toring the bell. But, before he had time, he was seized by a gray-eyedgirl in a white dress, who had burst open the door, crying:

  "Oh, Colonel Standish! Have you really, really come to see me?"

  "Why, Miss Virginia," said the Colonel, pausing to shake handscordially with Aunt Nan, "I've been having Thanksgiving dinner withthat grandson of mine at the Gordon school; and I told my man he mustdrive around this way to give me just a glimpse of you before takingme back to the city. And how goes everything, my dear? Is the 'makingof you' progressing?" And he smiled in remembrance of their journeytogether.

  Virginia was so delighted to see him that she could hardly speak.

  "I think so, sir. Everything's lovely anyway. Oh, Priscilla, comehere!"

  "I wonder if you're not the girl who knows my grandson?" the Colonelasked Priscilla. "He was telling me he knew a St. Helen's girl atVineyard Haven this summer named Priscilla Winthrop."

  "Do you mean Carver Standish, sir? Why, of course, I know him. Hetaught me to swim this summer. I don't know why I didn't think of himwhen Virginia told me that your name was Colonel Standish," saidPriscilla to Virginia's delight. To think Priscilla knew ColonelStandish's grandson!

  Then the Winthrops must be introduced, and the Williamses and Anne
andDorothy, together with Miss King and Miss Wallace, until the Coloneldeclared that he felt quite at home. It seemed about a minute toVirginia before he said that he must go, in spite of entreaties andcordial invitations to share the festivities of the afternoon. But heshould come again, he said, and the next time he would bring hisgrandson. Virginia watched the big car as it disappeared below thehill; and later, as they drove together in the early evening to thestation, she told Aunt Nan that the Colonel's coming had made her daycomplete.

  "Give my love to grandmother, Aunt Nan," she said, as they told eachother good-by, "and kiss her twice for me, if you think she'd likeit."

  "I'm sure she would, Virginia," answered Aunt Nan. "She's counting thedays until Christmas." And the train that carried Aunt Nan northwardleft a very happy girl on the station platform.

  But of all the happiness which Thanksgiving brought, the loveliest wasthe opportunity it gave her to know Miss Wallace better. Miss Greenhad gone to Boston for the holidays, and since The Hermitage wasfilled to overflowing, Priscilla and Virginia stayed in her room,giving their own to the Winthrops. Miss Green's room was next to MissWallace's; and since Priscilla was constantly with her father andmother, Virginia, though always asked with Dorothy to join the party,seized the privilege afforded her of being with Miss Wallace. MissWallace was also glad, for she loved Virginia. Policy, when school wasin session, forbade, with total disregard for a teacher's preferences,a greater intimacy with one girl than with another; but in thevacation days following Thanksgiving, when Virginia was more or lessalone, their friendship grew and ripened into a close understandingbetween them.

  Virginia discovered that Miss Wallace loved her best bookfriends--"Pollyanna," Pip in "Great Expectations," poor Smike in"Nicholas Nickleby," David Balfour, Sydney Carton, Sohrab, and dearMargaret in "The Cloister and the Hearth." They spent two lovely longevenings reading together before the open fire in Miss Wallace'scheery room, and some hours out-of-doors. Also, to Virginia's greatdelight, Miss Wallace expressed a desire to learn to ride; andthereupon followed a lesson with Miss Wallace on Napoleon, who, to herinexperienced eyes, was a veritable war-horse.

  She was doubly glad and thankful for Miss Wallace's interest andfriendship on the Monday following Thanksgiving. It was the last dayof the vacation, and golden like the others. The Winthrop family andthe Williamses, together with Anne and Dorothy, had motored toRiverside, twenty miles distant, to take their homeward bound trainfrom there instead of Hillcrest. Virginia had been asked to join theparty, but had declined, preferring to ride, and secretly hoping thatMiss Wallace might be able to ride also. But Miss Wallace had papersto correct, sorry as she was, and Virginia tried to be content withthe sunshine, the black horse, and a thick letter from her father,which the postman gave her as she rode past him down the hill.

  Securing her reins to the horn of her saddle, she tore open herletter. So motionless did she sit while she read its contents that theblack horse quite forgot he had a rider, and stopped to nibble at thebare, wayside bushes. A few moments later he must have been surprisedto feel a pair of arms about his neck, and a head against his mane;but he still nibbled on unconscious that the girl on his back wassobbing, and saying between her sobs,

  "Oh, if you were Pedro, you might understand, but you haven't anyheart at all!"

  Still he chewed the alder bushes. It was not often that he was allowedto take refreshment when this girl rode him, and he intended to makethe best of his advantages. He felt her raise her head after some longmoments; but as yet there was no signal for departure. Virginia wasreading her letter again through blinding tears.

  "I have something to tell you, my clear little daughter, which I knowwill grieve you deeply," her father had written. It was this that hadat first made her heart stand still. "Still, I feel that I should tellyou, for sooner or later you must know. Dear old Jim left us lastnight to begin life over again Somewhere Else. He had been graduallyfailing for weeks, but he would not give up his work. Yesterdaymorning Pedro was taken ill, and Jim refused to leave him, saying overand over again that you had always trusted Pedro to him. He workedover him all day, undoubtedly saving Pedro's life, and refusing toleave him, even though the other men insisted upon his giving place tothem. At night the men left him to eat supper, for he still would notleave his post; and when they had finished and went back to thestable, Pedro was quite himself again, but they found Jim--asleep.

  "I think you will feel as I do, dear, that it was like Jim to go thatway--faithful to the end. We laid him to rest this morning in the sideof the Spruce Ridge, near the great old tree to which you and he usedto climb so often, especially when you were a little girl. You willremember how he loved the sweep of country from there. The morning wasbeautiful and clear--the very kind of day he loved best; and as wecarried him up the hill, and laid him to rest, a meadow-lark sat onthe stump of a quaking-asp and sang over and over again. That was theonly prayer there was--that and our thoughts--but I am sure Jim wouldhave chosen that for his farewell song."

  Virginia could read no more. She pulled the head of the startled blackhorse away from the alders, and struck him with her spur. He startedfuriously down the hill, through the pines, and out into the countryroad. On and on they went, mile after mile, but still in Virginia'sears rang her father's words, "Dear old Jim left us last night tobegin life over again Somewhere Else." Jim, the comrade of her life,her trusted friend and adviser, whom she would never see again!

  Again she struck the black horse with her spur. But the pounding ofhis feet on the hard road could not drown her father's words. And noone would understand, she cried to herself--not even Mary andPriscilla. To them Jim was a dear, interesting old man; to Dorothy a"character"; to Imogene a "common hired helper"! They would not beable to comprehend her grief, just as they had never been able tounderstand her love for him.

  But riding did not help as she had hoped. She would go back. A halfhour later she left the horse at the stable, and walked homeward,alone with her grief. She could not bear to see the girls just yet, soshe turned aside and followed the woodsy little path that led to St.Helen's Retreat. It was still there--comfortingly still. She pushedopen the door, and entered the little chapel, through whose long andnarrow windows the sunlight fell in golden shafts upon the floor, andupon the white cloth that covered the little altar. Obeying somethingdeep within her heart, Virginia knelt by the altar rail; and somehowin the stillness, the beauty and faithfulness of Jim's honest lifeovercame a little the sadness of his death.

  "Virginia knelt by the altar rail."]

  How long she knelt there she did not know, but all at once she felt anarm around her, and heard Miss Wallace's voice say:

  "Why, my dear child, what is it? Come out into the sunlight and tellme. You will take cold in here!"

  Together they went out under the pines where the sun was warm andbright; and sitting there, with Miss Wallace's arms around her,Virginia told of her sorrow, and of dear old Jim, of whom Miss Wallacehad already heard. Then she read her father's letter, and the tearswhich stood in Miss Wallace's eyes quite overflowed when she came tothe part about the meadow-lark.

  "And he loved the meadow-lark so!" sobbed Virginia. "It seems asthough that one must have known!"

  "Perhaps it did," Miss Wallace said with dear comfort. "I like tothink that birds know many things that we cannot--many of the sweetestthings like that."

  "Oh, you're such a help!" breathed Virginia, the burden upon her heartalready lighter. "You see, the others can't understand why I loved himso. But you just seem to know some way."

  "I think I do know, dear," Miss Wallace told her as they rose to go upthe hill. "I want you always to tell me the things that trouble you,Virginia, and the things that make you glad, because we're realfriends now, you know; real friends for always!"

  And even in the midst of her grief, Virginia was happy--happy in theknowledge that she had gained a friend--a "real friend for always." Inthe hard days that followed, when so few understood why it was thatthe merry girl from
Wyoming had suddenly grown less merry, thatfriendship was a tower of strength to Virginia--giving her courage andhappiness when she most needed both; and proving, as it has proven somany times, that there is no sweeter, finer influence in life than themutual helpfulness born of a friendship between a teacher and one of"her girls."