CHAPTER VII
THE ESCAPE
As she packed her trunk behind the locked door of her room--anunnecessary precaution, since the girls generally avoided hersociety--Mary Louise considered whether to confide the fact of hergoing to Miss Stearne or to depart without a word of adieu. In thelatter case she would forfeit her trunk and her pretty clothes, whichshe did not wish to do unless it proved absolutely necessary; and,after all, she decided, frankness was best. Gran'pa Jim had often saidthat what one could not do openly should not be done at all. There wasnothing to be ashamed of in her resolve to leave the school where shewas so unhappy. The girls did not want her there and she did not wantto stay; the school would be relieved of a disturbing element and MaryLouise would be relieved of unjust persecution; no blame attached toany but those who had made public this vile slander against hergrandfather. From all viewpoints she considered she was doing the rightthing; so, when her preparations were complete, she went to MissStearne's room, although it was now after eight o'clock in the evening,and requested an interview.
"I am going away," she quietly announced to the principal.
"Going away! But where?" asked the astonished teacher.
"I cannot tell you that, Miss Stearne."
"Do you not know?"
"Yes, I know, but I prefer not to tell you."
Miss Stearne was greatly annoyed. She was also perplexed. The fact thatMary Louise was deserting her school did not seem so important, at themoment, as the danger involved by a young girl's going out into theworld unprotected. The good woman had already been rendered verynervous by the dreadful accusation of Colonel Weatherby and theconsequent stigma that attached to his granddaughter, a pupil at hereminently respectable school. She realized perfectly that the girl wasblameless, whatever her grandsire might have done, and she deeplydeplored the scornful attitude assumed by the other pupils toward poorMary Louise; nevertheless a certain bitter resentment of theunwholesome scandal that had smirched her dignified establishment hadtaken possession of the woman, perhaps unconsciously, and while shemight be a little ashamed of the ungenerous feeling, Miss Stearnefervently wished she had never accepted the girl as a pupil.
She HAD accepted her, however. She had received the money for MaryLouise's tuition and expenses and had promptly applied the entire sumto reducing her grocery bills and other pressing obligations; thereforeshe felt it her duty to give value received. If Mary Louise was to bedriven from the school by the jeers and sneers of the other girls, MissStearne would feel like a thief. Moreover, it would be a distinctreproach to her should she allow a fifteen-year-old girl to wander intoa cruel world because her school--her sole home and refuge--had beenrendered so unbearable that she could not remain there. The principalwas really unable to repay the money that had been advanced to her,even if that would relieve her of obligation to shelter the girl, andtherefore she decided that Mary Louise must not be permitted, under anycircumstances, to leave her establishment without the authority of hernatural guardians.
This argument ran hurriedly through her mind as the girl stood calmlywaiting.
"Is this action approved by your mother, or--or--by your grandfather?"she asked, somewhat more harshly than was her wont in addressing herpupils.
"No, Miss Stearne."
"Then how dare you even suggest it?"
"I am not wanted here," returned the girl with calm assurance. "Mypresence is annoying to the other girls, as well as to yourself, and sodisturbs the routine of the school. For my part, I--I am very unhappyhere, as you must realize, because everyone seems to think my dearGran'pa Jim is a wicked man--which I know he is not. I have no heart tostudy, and--and so--it is better for us all that I go away."
This statement was so absolutely true and the implied reproach was sojustified, that Miss Stearne allowed herself to become angry as thebest means of opposing the girl's design.
"This is absurd!" she exclaimed. "You imagine these grievances, MaryLouise, and I cannot permit you to attack the school and your fellowboarders in so reckless a manner. You shall not stir one step from thisschool! I forbid you, positively, to leave the grounds hereafterwithout my express permission. You have been placed in my charge and Iinsist that you obey me. Go to your room and study your lessons, whichyou have been shamefully neglecting lately. If I hear any more of thisrebellious wish to leave the school, I shall be obliged to punish youby confining you to your room."
The girl listened to this speech with evident surprise; yet the tiradedid not seem to impress her.
"You refuse, then, to let me go?" she returned.
"I positively refuse."
"But I cannot stay here, Miss Stearne," she protested.
"You must. I have always treated you kindly--I treat all my girls wellif they deserve it--but you are developing a bad disposition, MaryLouise--a most reprehensible disposition, I regret to say--and thetendency must be corrected at once. Not another word! Go to your room."
Mary Louise went to her room, greatly depressed by the interview. Shelooked at her trunk, made a mental inventory of its highly prizedcontents, and sighed. But as soon as she rejoined Gran'pa, Jim, shereflected, he would send an order to have the trunk forwarded and MissStearne would not dare refuse. For a time she must do without herpretty gowns.
Instead of studying her text books she studied the railway time-card.She had intended asking Miss Stearne to permit her to take thefive-thirty train from Beverly Junction the next morning and since therecent interview she had firmly decided to board that very train. Thiswas not entirely due to stubbornness, for she reflected that if shestayed at the school her unhappy condition would become aggravated,instead of improving, especially since Miss Stearne had developedunexpected sharpness of temper. She would endure no longer themalicious taunts of her school fellows or the scoldings of theprincipal, and these could be avoided in no other way than by escapingas she had planned.
At ten o'clock she lay down upon her bed, fully dressed, and put outher light; but she dared not fall asleep lest she miss her train. Attimes she lighted a match and looked at her watch and it surprised herto realize how long a night can be when one is watching for daybreak.
At four o'clock she softly rose, put on her hat, took her suit case inhand and stealthily crept from, the room. It was very dark in thehallway but the house was so familiar to her that she easily felt herway along the passage, down the front stairs and so to the front door.
Miss Stearne always locked this door at night but left the key in thelock. To-night the key had been withdrawn. When Mary Louise hadsatisfied herself of this fact she stole along the lower hallway towardthe rear. The door that connected with the dining room and farther onwith the servants' quarters had also been locked and the key withdrawn.This was so unusual that it plainly told the girl that Miss Stearne wassuspicious that she might try to escape, and so had taken precautionsto prevent her leaving the house.
Mary Louise cautiously set down her suit case and tried to think whatto do. The house had not been built for a school but was an oldresidence converted to school purposes. On one side of the hall was abig drawing-room; on the other side were the principal's apartments.
Mary Louise entered the drawing-room and ran against a chair that stoodin her way. Until now she had not made the slightest noise, but thesuit case banged against the chair and the concussion reverberateddully throughout the house.
The opposite door opened and a light flooded the hall. From where thegirl stood in the dark drawing-room she could see Miss Stearne standingin her doorway and listening. Mary Louise held herself motionless. Shescarcely dared breathe. The principal glanced up and down the hall,noted the locked doors and presently retired into her room, after alittle while extinguishing the light.
Then Mary Louise felt her way to a window, drew aside the heavydraperies and carefully released the catch of the sash, which she thensucceeded in raising. The wooden blinds were easily unfastened butswung back with a slight creak that made her heart leap withapprehension. She did not wait,
now, to learn if the sound had beenheard, for already she had wasted too much time if she intended tocatch her train. She leaned through the window, let her suit case downas far as she could reach, and dropped it to the ground. Then sheclimbed through the opening and let herself down by clinging to thesill. It was a high window, but she was a tall girl for her age and herfeet touched the ground. Now she was free to go her way.
She lost no time in getting away from the grounds, being guided by adim starlight and a glow in the east that was a promise of morning.With rapid steps she made her way to the station, reaching it over therough country road just as the train pulled in. She had been possessedwith the idea that someone was stealthily following her and under thelight of the depot lamps her first act was to swing around and stareinto the darkness from which she had emerged. She almost expected tosee Miss Stearne appear, but it was only a little man with a fat noseand a shabby suit of clothes, who had probably come from the village tocatch the same train she wanted. He paid no attention to the girl butentered the same car she did and quietly took his seat in the rear.