Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall: or, Solving the Campus Mystery

"Yes."

"Then let us go."

There was a card on which were printed several simple rules of conduct tacked to the door. The chums had read them. One was that rooms should be left unlocked in the absence of the occupants, and Ruth and Helen went out into the corridor, leaving their door open. There were other girls in the passage then, all moving toward the stairway. Some of them nodded kindly to the Infants. Others only stared.

Ruth saw Miss Steele in advance, and whispered to Helen:

"Come, dear; let us speak to her and tell her we cannot accept her Invitation for this evening."

But Helen held back. "You can tell her if you like," she said, rather sullenly.

"But, let us be nice about it," urged Ruth. "I'll tell her we overlooked the fact that we were already engaged for the meeting of the Up and Doing Club. I'll explain."

Helen suddenly seized her chum's arm more tightly. "You are a good little thing, Ruthie," she declared. "Come on."

They hurried after the Senior and caught up with her at the foot of the stairs. She was not alone, but Ruth touched her arm and asked to speak with her.

"What's the matter, Infants?" demanded the Senior, but smiling at them.

Helen flushed at the expression, but Ruth was too earnest in her intention to smooth over the difficulty to notice so small a thing.

"Oh, Miss Steele," she said, "I am sorry to beg off from the kind invitation you gave us. We cannot go with you this evening. It seems that it was already understood with Miss Cox that we should go with her."

"Oh!" exclaimed Madge Steele, a little stiffly, "you are already pledged, then?"

"Yes, we are pledged to attend the meeting of the Up and Doing Club this evening. It was very kind of Miss Cox to invite us," said Ruth, calmly. "And it was kind of you to invite us to the F. C.'s, too. But we cannot attend both meetings – not in one evening."

Madge Steele was looking at her earnestly and found that Ruth neither dropped her gaze nor appeared confused by her scrutiny. Helen was the one who seemed confused.

"It is not our usage to interfere with those who are pledged to other school clubs," said Miss Steele, speaking distinctly. "I understand, then, that you are not pledged?"

"Only to attend this meeting as visitors of Miss Cox," said Ruth, simply.

"Very well, then," said Madge Steele, her pleasant face breaking into a smile again, "I shall hope to see you at some future meeting of the Forward Club. Here we are on the campus. It is cool and shady here, even in the hottest weather. We think it is a decidedly pleasant place."

She walked beside them, conversing pleasantly. Helen recovered her good temper and ventured a remark about the fountain which graced the center of the campus. It was a huge marble figure of a sitting female, in graceful draperies and with a harp, or lyre, on the figure's knee. The clear water bubbled out all around the pedestal, and the statue and bowl were sunk a little below the level of the greensward, like a small Italian garden.

"What is the figure supposed to represent, Miss Steele?" asked Helen.

"You are allowed three guesses – and then you won't know," laughed the Senior. "You can see by the stains and moss on it that the fountain has been there a great many years. Long before Briarwood Hall was a school. But it is supposed to represent either Poesy, or Harmony. Nobody knows – not even Mrs. Tellingham."

The bell stopped tolling with three, sharp, jerky taps. Madge Steele quickened her pace along the path and the newcomers followed her. Other girls were pouring into the building nearest to the main structure of Briarwood. A broad stairway led up to assembly rooms; but out of the lower hall opened a large dining room, in which were ten or twelve long tables, and at which the girls were already being seated by some sort of system.

"I don't know where you will be seated," said Madge Steele, hastily. "I am at the second Senior table. Here comes Miss Picolet. She will attend to you Infants."

"Oh, it's the little French teacher," said Helen.

Ruth met the little lady with a smile. Miss Picolet nodded to them both and put out her tiny hand. She really was no taller than Helen.

"I am glad, young ladies, to see you in such good company. Miss Steele is well worth cultivating," she said. "Come this way. You will be seated in the Junior division. It is probable that you will be placed in that grade permanently. Mrs. Tellingham will see you in her office in the next building immediately after supper."

Ruth and Helen followed the doll-like teacher to their seats. The girl whom Mary Cox had called "Heavy" (and, indeed, it was a most appropriate name) was already seated, and was right at Ruth's elbow.

"Oh, I hope they'll be seated soon," Ruth heard this over-plump girl murmur. "This is cup-custard night, and I'm so-o hungry."

The tables were laid nicely. There were several waitresses, and besides Miss Picolet, there were at least four other ladies whom Ruth knew must be teachers. The hall was by no means filled. There were not more than a hundred and fifty girls present. The door at the far end opened and a handsome, white-haired, pink-cheeked lady entered. She mounted a slightly raised platform and stood for a moment overlooking the room.

"It's Mrs. Tellingham," whispered the fat girl to Ruth, seeing the question in the latter's face.

The Preceptress was a really handsome lady – perhaps forty-five, perhaps ten years older. Her perfectly white hair, thick and well arranged, seemed to have been the result of something besides age. Here face was quite free from any age-marks. There was a kind look in her eyes; a humorous expression about her mouth. Helen leaned toward Ruth and whispered:

"I know I shall just love her, Ruth – don't you?"

"And you won't be alone in that, Infant," said the girl on Helen's other hand. "Now!"

Mrs. Tellingham raised her hand. The school arose and stood quietly while she said grace. Another motion of the hand, and they sat down again. The bustle of supper then began, with the girls talking and laughing, the waitresses serving a plain, hot meal, and everybody in apparent good-nature, and happy. Ruth could scarcely pay attention to the food, however, she was so much more interested in these who were to be her school-fellows.

CHAPTER VII

THE UPEDES

It was all so new and strange to Helen and Ruth that neither had considered the possibility of homesickness. Indeed, how could they be homesick? There was too much going on at Briarwood Hall for the newcomers to think much of themselves.

The plump girl next to Ruth seemed of a friendly disposition, for when she had satisfied the first cravings of her appetite – oh, long before she came to the cup-custard! – she said:

"Which are you – Cameron, or Fielding? I'm Stone – Jennie Stone."

Ruth told her their names and asked in return:

"Are you on our corridor, too? I know you are rooming in the same building as Helen and I."

"Yes," said the fat girl. "I'm in a quartette with Mary Cox, Lluella Fairfax and Belle Tingley. Oh, you'll see plenty of us," said Heavy. "And I say! you're going to the Upede meeting to-night; aren't you?"

"Why – yes. Do you all belong?"

"Our quartette? Sure," said the plump girl in her off-hand way. "We'll show you some fun. And I say!"

"Well?" asked Ruth.

"How often are they going to send you boxes from home?"

"Boxes from home?" repeated the girl from the Red Mill.

"Yes. You know, you can have 'em sent often if you keep up with your classes and don't get too many demerits in deportment. I missed two boxes last half because of black marks. And in French and deportment, too. That was Picolet's doing – mean thing!"

"I had no idea that one would be allowed to receive goodies," said Ruth, who of course expected nothing of the kind from home, but did not wish to say so.

"Well, you want to write your folks that you can receive 'em right away. A girl who gets things from home can be very popular if she wants to be. Ah! here's the custard."