The Girl from the Big Horn Country

  CHAPTER XVI

  A SPRING-TIME ROMANCE

  "You don't mean you're going to back out now, Vivian, when we've madeall arrangements, and you've promised to go?"

  "I--I didn't say I was going to back out, Imogene. I just said I wishedI hadn't promised. It doesn't seem nearly so much fun as it did, and,besides, I know I'll get caught!"

  "Of course you will, if you lose your nerve like that. But if you doas we've planned, there isn't a chance in a thousand. No one willwonder why you're not at supper, because you're absent so often; andit will be easy enough to slip out while we're eating. Then by thetime you're driving off, we'll all be at that Art lecture; and withthe lights off and only the stereopticon, no one will miss you. And bythe time we get home, you'll be here in bed. Why, it's as smooth as awhistle, and you ought to be everlastingly grateful to Dot and me forfixing it up for you. No other girl in St. Helen's has ever gone outdriving with a man, and you'll have the story to tell your children."

  Poor Vivian looked for a moment as though she doubted her futurechildren's pride in their mother's achievement; but she had long agoput her hand to the plow, and there seemed no turning back.

  "Of course I'm going now that it's gone so far, and I've promised,"she said desperately. "But I don't believe Dorothy thinks it's so muchas she did. She said to-day she sort of wished we hadn't done it."

  Imogene looked uncomfortable. Dorothy's strange disloyalty during theweeks since the Easter holidays had greatly disturbed her.

  "Dot needn't act so righteous all of a sudden," she said bitterly."I'd like to know who planned this whole thing if she didn't. I'dcertainly never have thought of the birch tree post-office; and she'sbeen mail-carrier more than half the time. It's a late day to back outnow."

  "She isn't backing out, Imogene. She only said she wished we hadn'tplanned it in the first place; but since we had, of course we'd haveto see it through. I don't think you and she need worry anyway. It's Ithat's going to get the blame; and I shan't tell on you even if I amcaught."

  "Tell on us!" Imogene's tone was more biting than ever. "Well, Ishould hope you wouldn't! Who's superintended this thing, I'd like toknow? Who's been bringing boxes of candy from him all the way up hereto you, and running the risk of being caught? Who's been posting yournotes for you all winter long?"

  After listening to this exoneration, Vivian was on the point of tears,and Imogene, feeling that her room-mate's courage must be kept up atany cost, changed her tone.

  "To-morrow you'll be laughing up your sleeve, and saying what asplendid time you had. Besides, think what fun it's been all along.We've fooled every one in school. No one has suspected a thing! Andthink of all the candy you've had. Of course, he'll have another boxto-night."

  The unhappy Vivian dried her tears, but her face did not brighten. Infact, she did not look at all like a person who was about to enjoy along-anticipated evening drive.

  "Imogene," she said, and there was an unusual tone of self-assertionin her voice, which surprised her room-mate, "Imogene, I want you toknow that a hundred boxes of candy don't make one feel right inside."

  While this conversation was taking place behind a closed door in TheHermitage, there was another person in the woods by the Retreat, wholikewise did not feel right inside. The other person was Dorothy. Shehad declined Virginia's and Priscilla's invitation to go afterviolets, much as she would have liked to accept, in the hope of easingher conscience; curtly refused to walk with Imogene; and studiouslysought to evade the accusing eyes of Vivian. Seizing her opportunity,she had run away from them all, and now sat alone under the pines bythe Retreat, trying to think of a way out of her difficulty--a way thatwould save Vivian from the consequences of an act for which she wasreally not to blame.

  Ever since September Dorothy had sent her rootlets into the wasteplaces of indolence and poor companionship; and now that she had trulyresolved to change it seemed to her discouraged heart almost too late.She and Imogene were to blame for the situation which confrontedher--not Vivian. Ever since the sallow, white-coated Leslie had enteredthe employ of the "Forget-me-not," she and Imogene had directedsusceptible Vivian's attention toward his evident admiration. It wasthey who had all through the winter and early spring transported hisgifts to Vivian; they, who, weary of the monotony which throughidleness they made themselves, had seized upon Dorothy's idea of asecret post-office; and finally, they who had proposed through themeans of the post-office that the enamored Leslie take Vivian for anevening drive. Now the crisis was at hand, and what could she do toavert it?

  She sat in a wretched little heap beneath the pines, and thoroughlydespised Dorothy Richards. She had made a failure of the whole year--ingrades, in conduct, in character. The first was bad enough, for sheknew that Mary was right. It was she who was helping The Hermitagelose the cup--the scholarship cup which it had determined to win fromHathaway. The second was worse, for she had forfeited Miss Wallace'sconfidence, and had aroused the righteous suspicion of the girls. Butthe last was worst of all! She had allowed herself to be weaklyinfluenced by Imogene, had been disloyal to Priscilla and Virginia,had been very nearly dishonest, if not quite so, and had pitiably losther own self-respect. And now, even though she was tired of it all,even though she desired deep in her heart to turn her rootlets intobetter soil, perhaps it was too late. Perhaps, after all, she was notstrong enough.

  A brown thrasher, who sat on her newly-made nest in a near-by thicketand watched the girl beneath the pines, wondered perhaps at thestrange ways of mortals. For even though the sun was bright and thewhole world filled with joy, this girl all at once burst into tears,and cried between her sobs:

  "Oh, dear, what shall I do? I'll never be any different--never! AndPriscilla and Virginia will never like me again when they know abouttonight!"

  But remorse, though quite appropriate under the circumstances, anddoubtless likely to bear fruit in the future, was useless just atpresent. Dorothy soon realized that, and sat up again, much to therelief of the brown thrasher, who felt safer now that this strangeperson sobbed no more. A situation confronted her and must be met. Wasthere any way to save Vivian, and at the same time not implicateImogene? Were Dorothy alone to blame, she would go to Miss Wallace andtell the whole story; but she knew that Miss Wallace had previouslysuspected Imogene with good cause, and she did not wish to run therisk of getting Imogene into further trouble, even though she mightrichly deserve it. Of course, Vivian might be easily persuaded to stayat home and not meet her knight-errant of the soda-fountain, who wasto find her at seven o'clock by the birch tree; but that meant angerand certain revenge on the part of Imogene, besides the probability ofthe disappointed Leslie communicating his disappointment in such a wayas would eventually reach the ears of some member of St. Helen'sfaculty.

  The five-thirty warning bell found the question unsolved, and a sadlytroubled Dorothy walked slowly homeward. She was purposely late tosupper, for she did not wish to encounter Imogene or Vivian. As sheleft the wood-path and came out upon the campus, she saw hurrying downthe hill a short, plump figure in a red sweater. Vivian, on the way tomeet her knight!

  At supper Dorothy tried in vain to eat the food upon her plate.Impossible schemes, each vetoed as soon as concocted, were born but todie. It was only when Priscilla and Virginia, excused early fortennis, left the table, that an inspiration seized her. Almost withoutwaiting for Miss Wallace's nod of permission, she ran from thedining-room, flew up the stairs, and burst into Priscilla's andVirginia's room, where they, surprised, paused in the act of lacingtheir tennis shoes.

  "Oh, Virginia," she cried, "go quick! Vivian will listen to you, andshe won't to me, because I've been so mean. Oh, lace your shoesquickly! She is down by the birch tree, just beyond the gates on theroad to Hillcrest, waiting for--for that silly Leslie, who's coming totake her to drive. And it's not her fault, because we--I mean I--put herup to do it. And you can hate and despise and detest me, if you wantto, only hurry, and make him go away!"

  The founder of the Vigilantes need
ed no further explanation. So thiswas the meaning of her discovery a month ago! She sprang to her feet,raced through the hall, down the stairs, and across the campus towardthe road, while the contrite Dorothy remained to confess the wholemiserable story to Priscilla. It was Friday evening and there was nostudy hour after supper, so that Virginia could leave The Hermitagewithout exciting surprise. Moreover, the girls in the cottages wereall at supper, and there was no one to note her hurried flight downthe hill. Dorothy had not said at what hour Vivian's cavalier wouldarrive, and there was no time to be lost. Even then they might bedriving away. Almost out of breath she raced down the hill, throughthe pine woods, out the stone gates, and into the main road. A quarterof a mile away, coming from the direction of Hillcrest, she saw arunabout, in which sat a solitary figure, who seeing her at thatdistance waved his hand as a signal.

  "It's that silly thing!" breathed Virginia to herself. "He thinks I'mVivian. Oh, I'm glad I'm not too late!"

  She dashed down the road and into the rude path through the alders tothe birch tree. There, at its base, hidden by the alders from the viewof those who passed, crouched poor, trembling Vivian. She had halfrisen, as Virginia crashed through the bushes, thinking that hercavalier was approaching; but at the sight of the panting Virginia,she shrank back against the tree.

  "Why--why, Virginia," she stammered. "Why--why, what do you want?"

  Virginia was almost too breathless to answer.

  "I've--come--to meet--your friend, Vivian," she managed to gasp. "He'scoming now. He'll be here in a moment."

  "I--I think I'm scared," gasped Vivian in her turn, shrinking fartherback against the tree. "Aren't you, Virginia?"

  "No," said her deliverer, gaining breath at every moment, "no, Vivian,I certainly am not scared. I feel as brave as Theseus, though Leslieisn't much of a Minotaur, I must say!"

  The sound of a horse's feet-came nearer and nearer, then stopped. Acarriage creaked as some one jumped from it; twigs snapped as some onecame crashing through them. Vivian hugged the old tree for support,and turned her face toward the pasture. Virginia braced herself forthe attack, her back against the tree, her arms folded Napoleon-wise,her head high, her eyes flashing. As the bushes parted and thesoda-fountain clerk emerged and stepped into the trysting-place, amore surprised youth could not have been found in the State ofMassachusetts.

  Arrayed in a new and gallantly worn linen duster, his hat on the sideof his head, a box of candy under one arm, he stood as though rootedto the spot, an amazed and sickly smile playing over his more sicklycountenance. What had happened? Was he to escort two ladies instead ofone? His eye-glasses, attached by a gold chain to his ear, trembled ashis pale gaze, expressionless save for surprise, tried to encompassthe figure who still embraced the tree. But all in vain, for ever heencountered a pair of flashing gray eyes, which, steady anddisdainful, never once left his own.

  "You may go now," said the owner of the eyes, after what seemed longminutes to the faithful Leslie, "and don't you ever come here again!This isn't a post-office any longer. You're too unspeakably silly forany use, and Vivian thinks so just the same as the rest of us. Youbelong to a soda-fountain, for you're just as sickish as vanillaice-cream, and as senseless as soda-water. Now go!"

  The subdued Leslie needed no second bidding. He went. They heard hishurrying feet crash through the roadside thicket, the creaking of hiscarriage as with one bound he leaped into it, and the crack of thewhip, as he warned his steed to do no tarrying in that locality. ThenVirginia turned her attention to Vivian who by this time was in anhysterical little heap at the foot of the big old tree.

  "It's all right, Vivian," she said, with her arms around Vivian'sshaking shoulders. "He's gone and he won't come back. He'll be in NewYork by midnight, if he keeps on going. Please don't cry any more."

  But Vivian could not stop just then. To be sure, the result of herfoolishness had been checked before it was too late; but nothing couldblot out the foolishness itself; and it was that which was breakingher heart.

  "Oh, I'm not crying about him!" she said between her sobs. "I despisehim! I'm crying because I've been so silly, and nobody'll ever forgetit. I don't care what Dorothy and Imogene say. It's what's inside ofme that hurts! And everybody'll know how silly I've been! Oh, whycan't I be different than I am?"

  "Everybody won't know, Vivian. Oh, please don't cry so! Nobody'll knowexcept Priscilla and me, and we'll think all the more of you. AndDorothy feels worse than you, because she's been even more to blame.'Twas she that told me, and made me come to help you."

  Vivian stopped crying from sheer surprise. So Dorothy felt bad insidetoo, and had tried to help her. That was comforting.

  "And as for Imogene," Virginia continued, "if she once dares to teaseyou for trying not to be foolish any more,--if she dares,--well. Ishouldn't want to say what might happen!"

  The distant sound of a bell rang through the still air.

  "Now, Vivian, there's the lecture bell, and if we don't go, somebodywill suspect. You'll feel better inside, if you just make up your mindthat you're not going to be silly any longer. I'm your true friend,and so is Priscilla; and, if you'll let us, we'll try to help youto--to find better soil for your roots, just the way we're trying todo."

  So the world looked a little brighter to Vivian as she left the hatedpost-office and walked back toward St. Helen's with her "truefriend's" arm around her. Perhaps, after all, if she tried hard, shemight, some day, be a little different. As they turned into St.Helen's gateway, they met Dorothy and the Senior monitor, walking armin arm. Dorothy's eyes were red from crying, and the face of theSenior monitor was stern, though it grew kind again as she came up toVivian and Virginia.

  "It's going to be all right, Vivian," she said, "and we're every oneyour friends. Don't you feel bad any more."

  "And I'm going to begin all over again and be your friend, Vivian,"said Dorothy, tears very near the surface again, "if you'll forgiveme, and let me try. But if you won't, I'll never blame you, becauseI've been so frightfully miserable to you!"

  But Vivian, feeling undeservedly rich, put her arm close aroundDorothy, while Mary went to Virginia's side, and the four of themclimbed the hill toward St. Helen's together. There were yet fifteenminutes before the lecture, and those fifteen minutes were spent, withthe addition of Priscilla, in Imogene Meredith's room. The Seniormonitor spoke more plainly than they had ever heard her speak beforeduring that secret and never-to-be-forgotten session, and Imogene, forat least once in her life, felt with the fabulous barnyard fowls inthe old tale, quite as though her "sky were falling." A week later, tothe surprise of all St. Helen's, except perhaps the faculty, Mrs.Meredith arrived. She had decided to take Imogene to the mountains,she said, for the remainder of the year. Her health seemed failing,and she feared a nervous breakdown.

  As for the chivalrous Leslie, the "Forget-me-not" knew him no more;for on the very day after his sudden departure from thetrysting-place, when the girls went to Hillcrest to indulge in theinevitable Saturday afternoon sundae, they were served by agray-haired stranger, who wore Leslie's coat with ease, but who lookedunromantic in the extreme.