The Collected Works of Susan Coolidge: 7 Novels, 35+ Short Stories, Essays & Poems (Illustrated)
And the nuns in sweet forgetfulness who lie,
Dreaming of buckwheat cakes, parental love, and—pie;
Moan softly, twist and turn, and see
Black cats and fiends, who frolic in their glee;
And nightmares prancing wildly do abound
While Mrs. Nipson makes her nightly round.
“Who did write that?” exclaimed Rose. Nobody answered. The girls looked at each other, and Rose scrutinized them all with sharp glances.
“Well! I never saw such creatures for keeping their countenances,” she said. “Somebody is as bold as brass. Didn’t you see how I blushed when my piece was read?”
“You monkey!” whispered Clover, who at that moment caught sight of the handwriting on the paper. Rose gave her a warning pinch, and the both subsided into an unseen giggle.
“What! The tea-bell!” cried everybody. “We wanted to play another game.”
“It’s a complete success!” whispered Rose, ecstatically, as they went down the hall. “The girls all say they never had such a good time in their lives. I’m so glad I didn’t die with the measles when I was little!”
“Well,” demanded Lilly, “so the high and mighty Society has had a meeting! How did it go off?”
“_De_licious!” replied Rose, smacking her lips as at the recollection of something very nice. “But you mustn’t ask any questions, Lilly. Outsiders have nothing to do with the S. S. U. C. Our proceedings are strictly private.” She ran downstairs with Katy.
“I think you’re real mean!” called Lilly after them. Then she said to herself, “They’re just trying to tease. I know it was stupid.”
Chapter VII.
Injustice
Summer was always slow in getting to Hillsover, but at last she arrived, and woods and hills suddenly put on new colors and became beautiful. The sober village shared in the glorifying process. Vines budded on piazzas. Wistaria purpled white-washed walls. The brown elm boughs which hung above the Common turned into trailing garlands of fresh green. Each walk revealed some change, or ended in some delightful discovery, trilliums, dog-tooth violets, apple- trees in blossom, or wild strawberries turning red. The wood flowers and mosses, even the birds and bird-songs, were new to our Western girls. Hillsover, in summer, was a great deal prettier than Burnet, and Katy and Clover began to enjoy school very much indeed.
Toward the end of June, however, something took place which gave them quite a different feeling,—something so disagreeable that I hate to tell about it: but, as it really happened, I must.
It was on a Saturday morning. They had just come upstairs, laughing, and feeling very merry; for Clover had written a droll piece for the S. S. U. C. meeting, and was telling Katy about it, when, just at the head of the stairs, they met Rose Red. She was evidently in trouble, for she looked flushed and excited, and was under escort of Miss Barnes, who marched before her with the air of a policeman. As she passed the girls, Rose opened her eyes very wide, and made a face expressive of dismay.
“What’s the matter?” whispered Clover. Rose only made another grimace, clawed with her fingers at Miss Barnes’s back, and vanished down the entry which led to Mrs. Florence’s room. They stood looking after her.
“Oh, dear!” sighed Clover, “I’m so afraid Rose is in a scrape.”
They walked on toward Quaker Row. In the wash-room was a knot of girls, with their heads close together, whispering. When they saw Katy and Clover, they became silent, and gazed at them curiously.
“What has Rose Red gone to Mrs. Florence about?” asked Clover, too anxious to notice the strange manner of the girls. But at that moment she caught sight of something which so amazed her that she forgot her question. It was nothing less than her own trunk, with “C. E. C.” at the end, being carried along the entry by two men. Miss Jane followed close behind, with her arms full of clothes and books. Katy’s well- know scarlet pin-cushion topped the pile; in Miss Jane’s hand were Clover’s comb and brush.
“Why, what does this mean?” gasped Clover, as she and Katy darted after Miss Jane, who had turned into one of the rooms. It was No. 1, at the head of the row,—a room which no one had wanted, on account of its smallness and lack of light. The window looked out on a brick wall not ten feet away; there was never a ray of sun to make it cheerful; and Mrs. Nipson had converted it into a store-room for empty trunks. The trunks were taken away now, and the bed was strewn with Katy’s and Clovers possessions.
“Miss Jane, what is the matter? What are you moving our things for?” exclaimed the girls in great excitement.
Miss Jane laid down her load of dress, and looked them sternly.
“You know the reason as well as I do,” she said icily.
“No, I don’t. I haven’t the least idea what you mean!” cried Katy. “Oh, please be careful!” as Miss Jane flung a pair of boots on top of Cousin Helen’s vase, “you’ll break it! Dear, dear! Clover, there’s your Cologne bottle tipped over, and all the Cologne spilt! What does it mean? Is our room going to be painted, or what?”
“Your room,” responded Miss Jane, “is for the future to be this,—No. 1. Miss Benson and Miss James will take No. 6; and, it is to be hoped, will conduct themselves more properly than you have done.”
“Than we have done!” cried Katy, hardly believing her ears.
“Do not repeat my words in that rude way!” said Miss Jane, tartly.
“Yes, than you have done!”
“But what have we done? There is some dreadful mistake! Do tell us what you mean, Miss Jane! We have done nothing wrong, so far as I know!”
“Indeed!” replied Miss Jane, sarcastically. “Your ideas of right and wrong must be peculiar! I advise you to say no more on the subject, but be thankful that Mrs. Florence keeps you in the school at all, instead of dismissing you. Nothing but the fact that your home is at such a distance prevents her from doing so.”
Katy felt as if all the blood in her body were turned to fire as she heard these words, and met Miss Jane’s eyes. Her old, hasty temper, which had seemed to die out during years of pain and patience, flashed into sudden life, as a smouldering coal flashes, when you least expect it, into flame. She drew herself up to her full height, gave Miss Jane a look of scorching indignation, and, with a rapid impulse, darted out of the room and along the hall towards Mrs. Florence’s door. The girls she met scattered from her path right and left. She looked so tall and moved so impetuously that she absolutely frightened them.
“Come in,” said Mrs. Florence, in answer to her sharp, quivering knock. Katy entered. Rose was not there, and Mrs. Florence and Mrs. Nipson sat together, side by side, in close consultation.
“Mrs. Florence,” said Katy, too much excited to feel in the least afraid, “will you please tell me why our things are being changed to No. 1?”
Mrs. Florence flushed with anger. She looked Katy all over for a minute before she answered, then she said, in a sever voice, “It is done by my orders, and for good and sufficient reasons. What those reasons are, you know as well as I.”
“No, I don’t!” replied Katy, as angry as Mrs. Florence. “I haven’t the least idea what they are, and I insist on knowing!”
“I cannot answer questions put in such an improper manner,” said Mrs.
Florence, with a wave of the hand which meant that Katy was to go.
But Katy did not stir.
“I