CHAPTER IV
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Even a very unobserving person would have been able to see at a glancethat Highland Hall had begun life as a private residence. Originally abig square house built of cream colored brick and generously suppliedwith large windows and many balconies, it was perched in solitarygrandeur at the top of a broad, grassy knoll; but when it became aschool red brick additions, four stories high, extended toward the northand west. An enormous and very ugly veranda stretched along the entirelength of one of these additions. From it a broad flight of twelve widesteps led to the ground.
Doctor Rhodes and his family lived in part of the old mansion. Hisoffice was there on the ground floor in a room that had once been thedining room. The original parlor, a huge oblong room with a very highceiling, and the dark and rather dingy library back of it were stillunchanged.
Most of the second, third and fourth floors of the large modern wingscontained bedrooms. The school rooms, music rooms and studio occupiedthe ground floor. New pupils always complained that there were miles andmiles of dark hallways and corridors in which to get lost.
The kitchen, dining hall and laundry were in the basement.
There were no houses visible from three sides of the school building.From the fourth side, however, one could see the dark roofs of otherancient houses falling into decay, each with its huge yard, itsovergrown hedge, its unkempt shrubbery. Beyond that, nearly a miledistant, the red town of Hiltonburg glistened in the sunshine.
Somewhere between five and six o'clock that September afternoon, thestation hack stopped on the curved driveway in front of Highland Hall.Mr. Black and his five charges alighted. This spectacle afforded muchinterest to some three dozen maidens clustered in pairs and groups onthe front steps and on the wide veranda. To the embarrassed newcomersthese girls seemed to be all eyes. Never had the children from Lakevilleencountered so many curious eyes. There _couldn't_ have been more thanseventy-two but it seemed more like seventy-two thousand, Bettie saidafterwards.
Mr. Black addressed one of the nearest groups. "Can you direct me," heasked, "to Doctor Rhodes?"
"Yes, Sir," said a little girl with smooth, brown hair, rising promptlyand leading the way inside. "He's probably in the office, but if heisn't I'll find him for you."
"Ah," said Doctor Rhodes, who _was_ in his office, rising from hischair, "the five young ladies from Lakeville, I take it?"
"Yes," returned Mr. Black.
"Most of our flock arrived day before yesterday," said Doctor Rhodes,shaking hands all around, "but you are still in very good season. Andwhat is better, you are just in time for dinner. If Miss--Ah, I don'tremember your name--"
"Jane," supplied the little girl.
"Ah, yes, Miss Jane. If you will inform Mrs. Rhodes she will show theyoung ladies their rooms so they can--er--wash up a little if necessary.You, Mr. Black, may come with me."
Mrs. Rhodes appeared presently and the girls were introduced. Theydidn't like Mrs. Rhodes. She was a tall, very slender, very upright oldwoman in an unnatural state of tidiness, with evenly-waved white hairparted exactly in the middle, a wrinkled white skin and glittering blackeyes set in narrow slits. Her unsmiling mouth, too, was a narrow slit.Her expression was severe. She was really rather a frosty andblood-curdling old lady to look at but on this occasion she proved agood guide, surprisingly nimble for her years. She led them to thesecond floor, through a wide arch that led to a long corridor. Therewere doors down each side of this and a window at the end. Here shepaused to consult a note book that she had taken from her pocket.
"Number twenty. Miss Vale, Miss Bedford in here. Miss Tucker, Miss Mapesin twenty-two. Miss Bennett in twenty-four with Miss Isabelle Carew."
"Oh!" gasped Mabel, "couldn't I stay with the others?"
"No," returned Mrs. Rhodes. "I have arranged for you to room with MissCarew of Kentucky. I'm quite sure you will like her."
Half an hour later, the five girls were led to the dining room andseated at one of several long tables. Mr. Black they perceived at adistance--a tremendous distance it seemed--at Doctor Rhodes's own table.
"There's custard pie, tonight," whispered the girl next to Henrietta.Not a pretty girl, but her face was alive with mischief and Henriettaliked her at once. "I saw pies and pies cooling in the basement windowwhen I crawled under the veranda to see what they kept in there. Grandplace to hide. What's your name? Mine's Maude Wilder and I live inChicago. My room's in the West Dormitory too, so you'll see a lot ofme."
"I'm glad of that," said Henrietta.
"The three girls over there with the fancy hair are Seniors. The otherbig girls at that table are Juniors. They don't mix very much with therest of us."
"Won't you have a biscuit?" asked a gentle voice at Bettie's right. "I'mSarah Dickinson--Sallie for short."
Bettie looked at Sallie. She saw a slender girl of about fifteen, withdark blue, rather sad eyes, light brown hair and a pale skin. Hershoulders drooped a little and there was something rather pathetic abouther smile. The blue collar of her middy blouse was very much faded. Thiswas very noticeable because, just at the beginning of the term as itwas, nearly all the garments in sight were brand new.
"Are you a new girl?" asked Bettie.
"I'm the _oldest_ girl," returned Sallie. "I've been here, vacations andall, for five years. I haven't any home of my own."
Later, Bettie learned more about Sallie. Her mother had died when Salliewas about nine years old. For a time she had lived alone with her fatherbut he had decided that she would be better off in a girls' school. Anold man, her grandfather, perhaps, had brought her to Highland Hall,paying her tuition for one year in advance. Something had happened toher father. When the school year was finished it was discovered thatSallie had no home to go to, her relatives having somehow disappeared.Anne Blodgett, a last year's girl who told Bettie about it, was not verysure of her facts. Anyway, the housekeeper had allowed her to staybecause the little girl seemed likely to prove useful--there were manyerrands to do in a house like that.
She was still staying and still proving useful; but the kindlyhousekeeper had departed and stern Mrs. Rhodes had apparently taken thehousekeeper's place. Sallie was kept busier than ever. She sometimesseemed a bit dazed and bewildered and just a little bit down-hearted;but at first she had very little to say about herself.
Mr. Black departed very soon after dinner. The girls were permitted towalk to the last corner of the school premises with him. There theyclung to him tearfully and begged him to make a great many businesstrips to Chicago in order to visit them at Highland Hall.
"I know," sobbed Bettie, "that we're going to be homesick. I'm homesick_now_. It's so _different_. All those strange girls and that awful Mrs.Rhodes."
"And me with a strange roommate," wailed Mabel, also in tears. "And Idon't even know what she looks like."
"You'll be so busy studying that you won't have time to miss Lakeville,"assured Mr. Black. "Now run back like good girls so I can catch mytrain. I'll send you a great big box of candy from Chicago tomorrow andnew friends will flock about you like flies."
Before many hours had passed, Mabel discovered that a strange roommatewas not so bad after all because Isabelle Carew of Kentucky had arrivedtwo days earlier and knew when to go to bed, when to get up, where tofind the class rooms and most important of all, the dining room. Mabelthoroughly enjoyed imparting her new knowledge to her Lakeville friends.
Each day, they discovered, was divided into sections of forty minuteseach, and each section was filled to the brim. A bell rang every fortyminutes--Sallie had to ring it.
"And my goodness!" said weary Mabel, during visiting hour, when the fivefriends were stretched at length across Henrietta's narrow bed, "it'sjust awful to jump up and do something different every time that bellrings."
"Never mind," soothed Henrietta, "we don't have to do a single thingfrom three in the afternoon until six, except on walking days. We don'thave to go to gym from two to three unless we want to. We don't ha
ve tostudy evenings unless we like but except on dancing nights we have tostay in our own rooms and keep quiet in case anybody _does_ want tostudy."
"Or rest," groaned Mabel.
"There's kind of a woodsy grove over that way--south, I guess," saidJean. "We can go as far as the road, Cora says. She's that thin girlwith freckles--an old girl. Sometimes you can find nuts; and, in thespring, there are lots of wild flowers."
"Spring will never get here," groaned Marjory.
"We aren't allowed to go to town at all," said Jean, "except sometimesto lectures and concerts at the Theological Seminary, and there's aregular shopping day sometimes. Cora says it isn't a bit like it washere last year--a great many things have been changed. All the teachers,for one thing. There's a secret. Something happened, but she says thatDoctor Rhodes took all the old girls into his office as soon as theycame and made them promise not to tell the new girls--or anybody."
"The teachers," said Henrietta, "are a bunch of freaks and as near as Ican make out most of them are related to Doctor Rhodes. I had physicalgeography from his poor old cousin, Emily Rhodes; and a music lessonfrom his daughter, Julia Rhodes."
"His daughter-in-law, Mrs. Henry Rhodes, teaches painting andneedlework," said Jean. "She's rather pleasant, _I_ think."
"Anyway," said Mabel, "that French teacher isn't related. And I don'tthink Miss Woodruff is."
Marjory sat up suddenly and giggled.
"What's the joke?" demanded Henrietta.
"Mabel made friends with Miss Woodruff this morning in mathematics. Sheis just about the tallest and stoutest person you ever did see. Mabelasked her if she hadn't been teaching a great many years. Miss Woodruffsaid, 'Why, no; how old do you think I am?' Mabel looked her up and downcarefully and said: 'About seventy-five.'"
"Oh, Mabel!"
"Well," confessed Mabel, "I honestly didn't see how anybody _could_ growto such a size in _less_ than seventy-five years. Why! She's the verybiggest woman I _ever_ saw."
"She'll have it in for you," laughed Henrietta.
"I like Sallie Dickinson," said Bettie. "But I'm sort of sorry for her,too. She has to give out all the mail because she's the only person whonever gets any and she has to help in the kitchen sometimes, cleaningsilver and things like that. And ringing that horrid bell. It isn't anywonder her legs are so thin--always running up and down stairs andthrough all those long halls."
"I like Maude Wilder," said Jean. "She's full of fun and she throwsstones just like a boy."
"I don't care about Isabelle," confessed Mabel. "She says she's_engaged_."
"Engaged!" squealed Marjory. "How old is she?"
"About fifteen. She says southern girls are _always_ engaged. She talkedabout nothing but boys last night and she says she's afraid she'sfalling in love with the history teacher--Mr. James Carter."
"I saw him," said Henrietta. "I should think if _any_ man were perfectlysafe from being fallen in love with, he _was_. He's an ugly,near-sighted little brute with black whiskers and shabby shoes--anotherrelative of Doctor Rhodes, Maude says. I guess Isabelle is justnaturally sentimental like a silly maid Grandmother had once. She'llhave a sweet time getting sympathy out of Mabel, won't she?"
"She's writing sort of a continued letter to her Clarence," laughedunsentimental Mabel. "He's a silly looking thing, too. I saw his picturein her locket. She wears it night and day."
"I suppose," teased Henrietta, "you're going to write to LaddieLombard?"
"Of course I am, but that's different. He's just a regular boy--not a_beau_."
"It's time we were dressing for dinner," said Jean, prodding her lazycompanions. "We should have been outdoors all this time."
"I'm worried about dinner," confessed Mabel. "Sallie says that beginningwith tonight we have to ask for everything in French and I don't knowenough French to ask for a stewed prune."
"You don't have to," laughed Bettie, "we have those for breakfast."
"It's all right anyway," said Marjory. "Cora says that the girls at ourtable have a secret code--Maude invented it as soon as she heard aboutthe French. This is it. You punch your next door neighbor once forbread, twice for butter, three times for pickles, four times forpotatoes. One pinch means sugar and two pinches for cream. We never getany more meat anyway so there isn't anything for that. Of course youmustn't get your pinches and punches mixed up. But isn't that a grandscheme for beginners in French?"
"Ye-es," admitted Mabel, doubtfully, "but you see, I sit next to MissWoodruff. What if I forget and punch her?"