Dorothy at Oak Knowe

Nobody waited a second invitation to enjoy the good things that John’s thoughtfulness had provided; but, sitting on the floor around his baskets, they made him act the host in dispensing fair portions to all, a maid having quickly brought plates, nutpicks and cups for their service.

After the feast followed games and dances galore, till the hour grew late for schoolgirls, and the Bishop begged:

“Before we part, my children, please give us a little music. A song from the Minims, a bit from the Sevenths on the piano, and a violin melody from our girl from the South. For it is she, really, who is responsible for this delightful party. Now she has coaxed us into trying it once, I propose that we make Hallowe’en an annual junketing affair, and – All in favor of so doing say ‘Aye.’”

After which the “Ayes” and hand claps were so deafening, that the good man bowed his head as if before a storm. Then the room quieted and the music followed; but when it came to Dorothy’s turn she was nowhere to be seen. Girlish cries for “Queenie!” “Miss Dixie!” “Dolly! Dolly Doodles!” “Miss Calvert to the front!” failed to bring her.

“Gone to ‘step-an’-fetch’ her fiddle – or Mr. Gilpin’s, maybe!” suggested Winifred, with a mischievous glance at the old man who sat on the floor in the midst of the girls, gay now as any of them and still urging them to take “just a han’ful more” of the nuts he had been at such pains to crack for them.

But neither Dorothy nor “fiddle” appeared; and the festivities came to a close without her.

“Queer where Queenie went to!” said Florita, walking along the hall toward her dormitory, “and as queer, too, where that goat came from.”

“Seemed to be an old acquaintance of the farmer’s, didn’t it? He called it ‘Baal,’ as if that was its name; and wasn’t it too funny for words? to see him chasing after it, catching it and letting it slip away so, till Jack caught it and led it away. From the way he acted I believe he was the one who owns it and rigged it up so,” said Ernesta, beside her.

“Well, no matter. I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open! But what a glorious time we’ve had; and what a mess Assembly Hall is in.”

“Who cares? We’re had the fun and now Jack and the scullery boy will have to put it in order for us. Matron’ll see to that. Good night.”

They parted, each entering her own cubicle and each wondering somewhat why Dorothy did not come to hers. Commonly she was the most prompt of all in retiring and this was long past the usual hour. Could they have seen her at that moment their surprise would have been even greater.

Long before, while the feast was at its height, the girl had quietly slipped away.

Despite the fun she had so heartily enjoyed, thoughts of the visit to Gwendolyn’s sick room, which she had made just before it, kept coming into her mind: and her thoughts running thus:

“Gwen was ill, she really was, although Lady Jane seemed to think her only whimsical. She looked so unhappy and maybe partly because she couldn’t be in this first Hallowe’en party. It was too bad. I felt as if she must come and when I said so to Winnie she just laughed and answered: ‘Serves her right. Gwendolyn has always felt herself the top of the heap, that nothing could go on just right if she didn’t boss the job. Now she’ll find out that a little “Commoner” like you can do what no “Peer” ever did. Don’t go worrying over that girl, Queen Baltimore. A lesson or two like this will do her good. She’d be as nice as anybody if it wasn’t for her wretched stuck-up-ness. Miss Muriel says it’s no harm to be proud if it’s pride of the right sort. But pride of rank – Huh! How can anybody help where they’re born or who their parents are? Don’t you be silly, too, Dorothy Calvert, and pity somebody who’d resent the pity. I never knew a girl like you. You make me provoked. Never have a really, truly good time because you happen to know of somebody else that isn’t having it. I say again: If the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard feels bad because she isn’t in this racket I’m downright glad of it. She has spoiled lots of good times for other girls and ‘turn about’s fair play.’”

“Now, Winnie dear, your ‘bark is worse than your bite’ if I can quote maxims, too. In your heart, down deep, you’re just as sorry for poor Gwen as I am. Only you won’t admit it.”

“Well, if you think so, all right. You’re a stubborn little thing and once you take a notion into your brain nobody can take it out. ‘Where are you going, my pretty maid? I’m going a studying, sir, she said;’” and tossing an airy kiss in Dorothy’s direction, ran swiftly away.

Yet events proved that, as Winifred had argued, Dorothy’s opinion did not alter. Neither could she be sorry for anyone without trying to help them in some way.

The simple country treat of nuts, popped corn, and cider had proved enjoyable to other schoolmates – why shouldn’t it to Gwendolyn? She’d try it, anyway. So, unnoticed by those around her, Dolly heaped her own plate with the good things, placing a tumbler of cider in the middle and hurried away, or rather glided away, so gently she moved until she reached the doorway. There she ran as swiftly down the long hall toward the west wing and Gwendolyn’s room in it.

Tapping at the door Lady Jane soon opened it, but with finger on lip requesting silence. But she smiled as she recognized who stood there and at the plate of goodies Dorothy had brought. Then she gently drew her in, nodding toward the cot where her daughter seemed asleep.

She was not, however, but had been lying still, thinking of many things and among them her present visitor. She was not surprised to see her and this time was not pained. It seemed to the imaginative invalid that her own thoughts had compelled Dorothy to come, in response to them.

“I’m awake, Mamma. You needn’t keep so quiet.”

“Are you, dearest? Well, that’s good; for here has come our little maid with something tempting for your appetite. A share of the Hallowe’en treat, is it, Dorothy?”

“Yes, Lady Jane, and it’s something different from what we often have. The farmer, Mr. Gilpin, brought it for us girls and I couldn’t bear – I mean I thought Gwendolyn should have – might like, her share, even if – if I brought it. I’m sorry the plate is a cracked one, but you see there were so many needed and the maids brought what they could find handiest, I suppose. But – the glass of cider is all right. That’s from the regular table and – and it’s really very sweet and nice.”

Now that she had come poor Dorothy wished that she hadn’t. Lady Jane seemed pleased enough and had promptly turned on a stronger light which clearly showed the face of the girl on the bed. She could talk readily enough to the mother but whenever she glanced toward Gwendolyn her tongue faltered and hesitated woefully. It seemed as if the sick girl’s eyes were still hard and forbidding and their steady stare made her uncomfortable. So she did not speak to the invalid and was promptly retreating when Gwendolyn suddenly asked, yet with apparent effort:

“Mamma, will you please go away for a few minutes? I’ve – I’ve got to speak to Dorothy – alone.”

“Why, certainly, dearest, if you think you’re strong enough. But wouldn’t you better wait another day? Wouldn’t I be able to talk for you?”

“No, no. Oh! no, no. Nobody but I can – Please go – go quick!”

“‘Stand not upon the order of your going but go at once!’” quoted Lady Jane, jestingly.

But she failed to make her daughter smile and went away, warning:

“Don’t talk of that accident again to-night, girls.”

“That’s exactly what I must talk about, Mamma, but you mustn’t care.”

Lady Jane’s heart was anxious as she closed the door behind her and she would have been amazed had she heard Gwendolyn’s exclamation:

“I’ve been a wicked girl! Oh, Dorothy! I’ve been so mean to you! And all the time you show me kindness. Are you trying to ‘heap coals’ on my head?”

“‘Heap coals?’” echoed Dolly, at first not comprehending; then she laughed. “I couldn’t do that. I have none to ‘heap’ and I’d be horrid if I tried. What do you mean?”

“It began the night you came. I made up things about you in my mind and then told them to our ‘set’ for facts. I’d – I’d had trouble with the ‘set’ because they would not remember about – about keeping ourselves apart from those who hadn’t titles. I felt we ought to remember; that if our England had made ‘classes’ we ought to help her, loyally. That was the first feeling, way down deep. Then – then I don’t get liked as I want to be, because I can’t help knowing things about other girls and if they break the rules I felt I ought to tell the teachers. Somehow, even they don’t like that; for the Lady Principal about as plain as called me ‘tale-bearer.’ I hate – oh! I do hate to tell you all this! But I can’t help it. Something inside me makes me, but I’m so miserable!”

She looked the fact she stated and Dorothy’s sympathy was won, so that she begged:

“Don’t do it, then. Just get well and – and carry no more tales and you’ll be happy right away.”

“It’s easy to talk – for you, maybe. For me, I’d almost rather die than own I’ve been at fault – if it wasn’t for that horrid, sick sort of feeling inside me.”

In spite of herself the listener laughed, for Gwendolyn had laid her hands upon her stomach as if locating the seat of her misery. She asked merrily:

“Is it there we keep our consciences? I never knew before and am glad to find out.”

But Gwendolyn didn’t laugh. She was an odd sort of girl, and always desperately earnest in whatever she undertook. She had made up her mind she must confess to the “Commoner” the things she had done against her; she was sincerely sorry for them now, but she couldn’t make that confession gracefully. She caught her breath as if before a plunge into cold water and then blurted out:

“I told ‘our set’ that you were Dawkins’s niece! I said you were a disgrace to the school and one of us would have to leave it. But Mamma wouldn’t take me and I couldn’t make you go. I got mad and jealous. Everybody liked you, except the girls I’d influenced. The Bishop petted you – he never notices me. Miss Tross-Kingdon treats you almost as lovingly as she does Millikins-Pillikins. All the servants smile on you and nobody is afraid of you as everybody is of me. Dawkins, and sometimes even Mamma, accuses me of a ‘sharp tongue’ that makes enemies. But, somehow, I can’t help it. And the worst is – one can’t get back the things one has said and done, no matter how she tries. Then you went and saved my life!”

At this, the strange girl covered her face and began to cry, while Dorothy stared at her, too surprised to speak. Until the tears changed to sobs and Gwendolyn shook with the stress of her emotion. Then, fearing serious results, Dorothy forgot everything except that here was someone in distress which she must soothe. Down on her knees she went, flung her arms around the shaking shoulders, and pleaded:

“Well, you poor dear, can’t you be glad of that? Even if you can never like me isn’t it good to be alive? Aren’t you grateful that somebody who could swim, even poor I, was at the pool to help you out of it that day? Forget it, do forget it, and get well and happy right away. I’ll keep away from you as far as I can and you must forgive me for coming here again just now.”

“Forgive you? Forgive you! Oh! Dorothy Calvert, can you, will you ever forgive me? After all my meanness to you, could you make yourself like me just a little?”

Gwendolyn’s own arms had now closed in eager entreaty about the girl she had injured. Her pride was humbled at last and completely. But there was no need of further speech between them. They clung together in their suddenly awakened affection, at peace and so happy that neither felt it possible they had ever been at odds.

When, at last, Dorothy drew back and rose, Gwen still clung to her hand, and penitently said:

“But that isn’t all. There’s a lot more to tell that, maybe, will make you despise me worse than ever. I’ve done – ”

“No matter what, dearest. You’ve talked quite enough for to-night and Dorothy should be in bed. Bid one another good night, my dears, and meet again to-morrow;” interrupted Lady Jane, who had quietly returned.

So Dorothy departed, and with a happier heart than she had had since her coming to Oak Knowe; for now there was nobody there with whom she was at discord.