CHAPTER I
OFF TO GLENMORE
The Stone House looked as fine, and its gardens as gay with flowers, aswhen the members of the household were to be at home for a season, forit always seemed at those times as if the blossoming plants did theirbest, because sure of loving admiration.
But something entirely new was about to happen; something that madeDorothy Dainty catch her breath, while her dearest friend, Nancy Ferris,declared that she was wildly happy, except that the whole thing seemedso like a dream that she could hardly believe it.
"That's just it, Nancy," said Dorothy. "It surely does seem like adream."
Yet it was true, and not a dream that Mr. Dainty was to be away fromhome for some months, that Mrs. Dainty was to accompany him, and thatAunt Charlotte would be with them, and that Dorothy and Nancy were tospend those months at a fine school for girls, and Vera Vane, merry,mischief-loving Vera, would be eagerly looking for them on the day oftheir arrival. One would almost wonder that the thought of being away atschool should appeal to Dorothy and Nancy, but it was the novelty thatcharmed them.
It was always delightful at the Stone House, and there had been summerseasons at shore and country that they had greatly enjoyed, but herewas a new experience, and the "newness" was delightful.
A letter from Vera had just arrived, and Dorothy, out in the garden whenthe postman had handed it to her, stood reading it.
"Her letters are just like herself," she whispered.
She looked up. Nancy was calling to her.
"A letter from Vera!" answered Dorothy.
"We shall have to hurry a bit," Nancy said, "James is strapping the twotrunks, the suit-cases are out in the hall, and we must be ready intwenty minutes."
"All right!" cried Dorothy. "Give me your hand and we'll run to thehouse."
She tucked the letter into the front of her blouse, and then promptlyforgot all about it.
The "twenty minutes" sped on wings, and when at last Dorothy and Nancysat side by side in the car, their trunks checked, their suit-cases, andumbrellas on the seat that had been turned over for them, they turned,each to look into the other's eyes.
Dorothy's lip quivered, but she spoke bravely.
"It is hard, this first trip away from home without mother or AuntCharlotte with us," she said. Then quickly she added:
"But it will be fine when we get used to being away from home."
"Oh, yes, it will be _fine_!" Nancy said in a firm voice, but she lookeddown, lest her eyes show a suspicious moisture.
As the journey progressed, their spirits rose. After all, it was notreally "good-by," yet.
Mrs. Dainty had postponed the actual "good-by" until a week afterDorothy and Nancy should have begun the school year at Glenmore.
She knew that Vera Vane was a host in herself, her friend and chum,Elfreda was nearly her equal in active wit, and high spirits, and atleast a few of the other pupils would have already formed a speakingacquaintance with the two new girls.
The girls would have been assigned places in the classes for which theywere fitted, and thus the school work would be planned, and their timeclosely occupied.
Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte were also eager to know if the two whowere so dear to them were comfortable, satisfied with theirsurroundings, and looking forward to a pleasant school year. Until thusassured, they could not set out on the journey, for the trip had beenplanned as a means of rest and recuperation for Mrs. Dainty. How couldshe rest, or enjoy the trip unless she were sure that Dorothy wasabsolutely content and happy? If Dorothy were happy, Nancy was sure tobe, because the two were inseparable, and their tastes nearly identical.
The two girls were a bit tired of looking from the window at the flyingscenery, and Nancy expressed the wish that they had brought somethingwith them to read.
"I did," Dorothy said, with a laugh, and she drew Vera's letter from herblouse.
She read it aloud, while Nancy leaned against her shoulder, enjoying itwith her.
"I wish you had come the first day that school opened, but I'll be onthe lookout for you and Nancy. My! But we'll have fun and a plenty of itthis year at Glenmore," she concluded, signed her name, and then added apostscript.
"Patricia, and Arabella are here, both--no, _each_--oh, which _should_ I say? Anyway, they're acting just outrageous, and already they've earned the name that the girls have given them. They call them 'The Freaks,' and truly the name fits. They speak of Patricia as 'the one with the queer clothes,' and of Arabella as 'the medicine-chest.'
"She's taking more pills, I do believe, than she ever did at home, and she wants folks to notice that.
"The idea! I'm glad there are two _nice_ girls coming from Merrivale, although you'd never think Patricia ever _saw_ the place, for she talks of nothing but 'N'York.' My brother Bob always laughs about my long postscripts. It's lucky he can't see this one!
"Lovingly,
"VERA."
Dorothy folded the letter, again placing it in her blouse, and then fora time they watched the passengers.
Opposite them was a big woman, who possessed three bird-cages, twoholding birds, and the third imprisoning a kitten.
There was a lean man with a fat little girl beside him, who atecountless lunches, which were packed in a big basket, that seemed averitable horn of plenty.
Yet a bit farther up the aisle was a small boy with a large cage that hewatched closely.
A thick cloth covered it, but once, when the boy was not looking, a longbrown furry arm reached out, and snatched mischievously at his sleeve.
"It's a monkey," whispered Nancy, and the boy turned and grinned.
"'F _he_ knew there was a monkey in that cage he'd make me put it in thebaggage car," he said.
Dorothy was tired with the long ride, and just as she was thinking thatshe could not bear much more of it, the brakeman shouted, "Glenmore!Glenmore!" and the two girls were glad enough to get out upon theplatform.
Glenmore, the village, was a lovely little country place, quiet, andevidently content with itself.
Glenmore, the school, was a rambling, picturesque home for the pupilswho came there.
Once it had been a private mansion, but its interior had been remodeledto meet the requirements of a small, and select school for girls.
A bit old-fashioned in that it was more genuinely homelike than otherprivate schools, it held itself proudly aloof from neighboringbuildings.
It claimed that its home atmosphere was the only old-fashioned thingabout it, and that was not an idle boast, for the old house had beenequipped with every modern convenience. Its instructors were the bestthat a generous salary could tempt to Glenmore, and Mrs. Marvin, owner,promoter, and manager of the school, was an exceedingly clever woman forthe position.
As assistant, Miss Fenler, small, and wiry, did all that was required ofher, and more. She had never been appointed as a monitor, but she choseto do considerable spying, so that the pupils had come to speak of heras the "detective."
One of her many duties was to see that the carryall was at the stationwhen new pupils were to arrive.
Accordingly when Dorothy and Nancy left the train, and found themselveson the platform, Miss Fenler was looking for them, and she stowed themaway in the carryall much as if they had been only ordinary baggage.
Then, seating herself beside the driver, she ordered him to return.
"Home," she said, and "home" they were driven, for "home" meant Glenmoreto the colored man, who considered himself a prominent official of theschool.
Classes were in session when they reached Glenmore, so Miss Fenler wentwith them to the pretty room that was to be theirs, a maid followingwith suit-cases, the colored man bringing up the rear with one trunk,and a promise to return on the next trip with the other.
A class-room door, half open, allowed a glimpse of the new arrivals.
"See the procession with the 'Fender' a
head," whispered a saucy miss.
"Her name's 'Fenler,'" corrected her chum.
"I know that, but I choose to call her 'Fender,' because she's likethose they have on engines to scoop up any one who is on the tracks.She's just been down to the station to 'scoop' two new pupils, and Iguess--"
A tap of a ruler left the sentence unfinished.
Arabella Correyville, without an idea as to what was whispered, had seenthe broad smile, and had heard the giggle.
"Who was out there?" she wrote on a bit of paper, and cautiously passedit to Patricia Levine.
"I don't know. I didn't see them, but they must be _swell_. They hadever so much luggage." That was just like Patricia. She judged every onethus.
That a girl could be every inch a lady, and at the same time, possess asmall, well chosen wardrobe was past understanding; but any girl,however coarse in appearance and manner, could, with a display of manygaudy costumes, convince Patricia that she was a young person of greatimportance.
Miss Fenler talked with them for a few moments, and then left them tounpack their belongings, saying that later, when they felt rested, theymight come down to the reception hall and meet some of the girls whowould be their classmates during the year.
It was the custom, she said, for the pupils to meet for a socialhalf-hour before dinner, to talk over the happenings of the day, theirtriumphs or failures in class-room, or at sports, or to tell what hadinterested those who had been out for a tramp.
There had been an afternoon session that day for the purpose of choosingfrom the list of non-compulsory studies.
"Usually," Miss Fenler explained, "the classes meet for recitations inthe forenoon only, the afternoons being reserved for study, and whenlessons were prepared, for recreation."
Miss Fenler left them, closing the door softly behind her.
Dorothy turned to look at Nancy.
"What do you think of her?" Nancy said, asking the question that sheknew was puzzling Dorothy.
After a second's thought Dorothy said:
"We shall get on with her, I believe, but I can't think Arabella orPatricia would be very comfortable here. Really, they will be obliged tostudy here, and Arabella won't want to, and I don't think Patriciacould. If they don't study, how can they remain?"
Nancy laughed outright.
"Don't worry about those two funny girls," she said, "for if they_won't_ study, or _can't_ study, and so are not allowed to remain,you'll be just as happy, Dorothy dear, and for that matter, so willthey."
Later, when together they descended the quaint stairway, they found theever-present Miss Fenler, waiting to present them.
Vera Vane, and Elfreda Carleton, each with an arm about the other'swaist, hastened forward to greet them.
"Oh, we're so glad you and Nancy have--"
"Just a moment Miss Vane, until you have been properly presented," MissFenler said, in a cold, precise manner.
"But I've always known Dorothy--"
"That makes no difference," the assistant said, and she presented themin formal manner.
Vera raised her eyebrows, presented the tips of her fingers, and toldDorothy in a high, squeaky voice that she was _very_ glad to know her.Elf did the same in an exact copy of Vera's manner.
Several of the pupils giggled, but to their credit, Dorothy and Nancymanaged not to laugh.
When a half-dozen girls had been presented, some one told Miss Fenlerthat Mrs. Marvin wished to see her, and what had begun in a stiltedmanner, became a genuine girl's social.
When the clock in the hall chimed six, and they turned toward the longdining-room, the two new pupils had already made the acquaintance ofseveral girls, who sat beside, and opposite them at the table.
From a distant table Patricia and Arabella were turning to attract theirattention.
It had happened that Arabella had chosen to remain in her room duringthe half-hour reunion.
"I don't feel like talking to a crowd of girls to-night," she had said.
"My! If you don't care to talk to girls, it must be you'd rather talk toboys!" Patricia said, laughing.
"I would _not_!" Arabella remarked, with a flash in her eyes that onerarely saw.
"Oh, _do_ excuse me!" Patricia said, "but that's all right, for I'llstay right here and talk to you."
Arabella was not in much of a mood for listening, either, but shethought it best not to say so. At any other time, Arabella would havelistened for hours to whatever Patricia might care to say, but to-nightshe was in a contrary mood.