CHAPTER VIII
THE MARBLE HARP
The social meeting of the Up and Doing Club lasted less than an hour.It was quite evident that it had been mainly held for the introductionof Ruth Fielding and her chum into the society of the Briarwood girls.Those gathered in the assembly room did not number any Seniors, butwere all of the Junior grade, and all older than Ruth and Helen."Primes" were not allowed by Mrs. Tellingham to join any of theclass-governed societies.
In spite of the fact that Ruth suspected Mary Cox of deliberatelythrowing herself in the way of Helen and she on their arrival at theschool, with the sole object of getting them pledged to this society,the girl from the Red Mill could not fail to appreciate thegood-natured attempts of the Upedes to make them both feel at home intheir new surroundings. They _must_ be grateful for that.
Nor were they urged at this time to join the club. At least, nobodysaid more to Ruth about joining than had the stout girl, Jennie Stone,on their way to this meeting. The party broke up in such good season,that it was scarcely dark when the chums left the room in the dininghall and strolled back to their dormitory with their new friends. Thelamps around the campus were being lighted by a little old Irishman,who wore a wreath of short, gray whiskers and hair about his face--aregular frame. His long upper lip and his chin were shaven, and thisarrangement gave him a most comical appearance.
"You're late again to-night, Tony," Jennie Stone remarked, as she andRuth came down the steps of the dining hall together.
The little Irishman backed down the short flight of steps he carried,with a groan. He had just lighted the final lamp of the series thatsurrounded the campus.
"And well I might be--well I might be," grumbled the man. "'Tis meneeds fower pair of hands, instead of wan pair, and as many legs as acinterpig." Tony evidently meant _centipede_. "'Tis 'Tony, here!' and'Tony, there!' iv'ry blissid minute av th' day. An' 'tis movin' trunksan' boxes, and the like--Mis' Grace should hire a nelephant at thistime of the year, an' so I tell her. An' what with these hereforeigners too--bad 'cess to them! I have to chase ev'ry rag tag andbobtail on the place, so I do----"
"Not tramps again, Tony?" cried Jennie Stone.
"'Tis worse. Musickle bodies, they be. Playin' harps an' fiddles, an'the loikes. Sure, 'twill be hand-organs an' moonkeys to-morrer,belike. Ah, yes!"
"Maybe some of these traveling musicians can play the marble harpyonder," said Heavy, with a chuckle, pointing to the now half-shroudedfigure in the center of the campus.
"Oh, wirra, wirra! don't be sayin' it," grumbled the old man. "There'sbad luck in speakin' of _thim_ folks."
Jennie Stone squeezed Ruth's arm, still laughing, as they went on andleft the old Irishman. "He's just as superstitious as he can be," shewhispered. "He really believes the old story about the harp."
"He ought to believe in a harp," laughed Ruth, in return, "he beingIrish. Tell me, who is he?"
"Anthony Foyle. He's the only workman about the place who sleeps onthe premises. His wife's our cook. They're a comical old couple--andshe _does_ make the nicest tarts! They'd melt in your mouth if youcould only make up your mind to hold them long enough on your tongue,"sighed Heavy, rapturously.
"But what's the story about the marble harp?" queried Ruth, as theycame to the dormitory and joined the other girls. "You mean the harpheld by that figure at the fountain?"
"Hello!" cried Belle Tingley. "Heavy's trying to scare the Infant withthe campus ghost story."
"Oh! a real ghost story!" cried Helen. "Do let's hear it."
"Come into our room, Cameron," said Lluella Fairfax, lazily, "and Iwill tell the tale and harrow up thy young soul----"
"And make thy hair stand on end like quills upon the fretful'porkypine,'" finished Mary Cox. "Yes! let Lluella tell it. It iswell for Infants to learn the legends as well as the rules of BriarwoodHall."
Helen was used to being called "Infant" by now and didn't mind so much.She was so much taken with their new friends and the Upedes in generalthat she went right into the room occupied by Mary Cox and her chums,without a word to Ruth, and the latter followed with Heavy, perforce.
The windows of the "quartette" looked out upon the campus. The lightsin the other dormitory shone brightly and the lamps around the openspace, which the buildings of Briarwood surrounded, glimmered in thedark. Voices came up to them from the walks; but soon these ceased,for the girls were all indoors. The campus was deserted.
"Don't let's light the lamp," said Lluella. "I can tell stories betterin the dark."
"And ghost stories, too," laughed Helen.
"Not so much of a ghost story--at least, there's nothing reallyterrible about it," returned Miss Fairfax, slowly. "I suppose thereare not many people who talk about it, outside of our own selves hereat Briarwood. But once--before the school came here--the marble statuedown there was the talk of the whole countryside. I believe Mrs.Tellingham doesn't like the story to be repeated," added Miss Fairfax."She thinks such superstitions aren't good for the minds of the Primesand Infants," and the story-teller laughed.
"However, it is a fact that the original owner of Briarwood Hall had abeautiful daughter. She was the apple of his eye--all beautifuldaughters are apples of their fathers' eyes," said Lluella, laughing."Jennie is _her_ father's apple----"
"Adam's apple," suggested Mary Cox.
"Such a size for an Adam's apple would choke a giant," murmured BelleTingley, for the three were always joking poor Heavy because of herover-plumpness.
"Don't you bother about my father," said Jennie, calmly. "He gives mea dollar every month for chocolate creams, and you girls help eat them,I notice."
"Hurrah for the Stone _pere_!" cried Mary Cox. "Go on, Lluella."
"You sound as though you cheered for a sea-wall of masonry, or somesuch maritime structure," complained Jennie. "'Stone _pere_,' indeed!"
"She sha'n't have any of the next box of creams, Heavy," said Lluella,soothingly.
"And I'm not sure that _you_ will, either," replied the fat girl."_Do_ tell your story, Miss!" and Heavy yawned monstrously.
"How _dare_ you yawn before 'taps'?" cried Belle. "I'll douse thewater-pitcher over you, Jennie."
At this threat the fat girl sat up promptly and again urged Lluella tocontinue her tale. So Miss Fairfax continued:
"This rich old gentleman with the apple in his eye--in other words, abeautiful daughter--had a great deal more money than sense, I think.He engaged a sculptor to design a fountain for his lawn, and the drapedfigure you have seen upon that pedestal down yonder, is supposed to bethe portrait of the beautiful daughter cut into enduring marble by theman who _sculped_. But, unfortunately for the old gentleman's peace ofmind while he _sculped_ the marble the artist likewise made love to theyoung lady and they ran away and were married, leaving the oldgentleman nothing but the cold marble statue playing the marble harp,in place of a daughter.
"The father's heart at once became as adamant as the marble itself, andhe refused to support the sculptor and his wife. Now, either therunaway couple died miserably of starvation in a garret, or weredrowned at sea, or were wrecked in a railroad accident, or some otherdreadful catastrophe happened to them--I'm not sure which; for after atime there began to be something strange about the fountain. The oldman lived here alone with his servants for a number of years; but theservants would not remain long with him, for they said the place washaunted."
"Oh my!" exclaimed Helen.
"That's right, Miss Cameron. Please show the proper amount ofthrilling interest. They said the fountain was queer. The water neverpoisoned anybody; but sometimes the marble strings of the marble harpin the marble hand or the marble daughter would be heard to twang inthe night. Weird music came from the fountain at ghostly hours. Ofcourse, the little harp the statue holds is in the form of a lyre; andwhat the people were who told these stories about the ghostly twangingof the instrument--you may draw your own conclusions," laughed LluellaFairfax.
"However, the o
ld gentleman at last broke up his household, or died, ormoved to town, or something, and Briarwood was put up for sale and theschool came here. That was a good many years ago. Dr. Tellingham'swig matched his fringe of hair when the school first began here, sothat must have been a good while ago. The twanging of the marble harphas been heard down through the school ages, so it issaid--particularly at queer times----"
"Queer times?" asked Ruth.
"Why, when something out of the common was about to happen. They sayit twanged the night before our team beat the basket-ball team fromVarden Preparatory. There was a girl here once who ran away becauseher folks went to Europe and left her behind at school. She wasdetermined to follow them, and she got as far as New York and stoleaboard a great steamer so as to follow her parents; only the steamshipshe boarded had just come in instead of just going out. They say themarble harp twanged _then_."
"And when Heavy failed to oversleep one morning last half the marbleharp must have twanged _that_ time," declared Mary Cox.
A gentle snore answered from the window seat, where Jennie Stone hadactually gone to sleep.
"Wasted humor," said Mary, laughing. "Heavy is in the Land of Nod.It's been a hard day for her. At supper she had to eat her own andMiss Fielding's share of the cup-custards."
Ruth and Helen had already risen to go.
"You'll remember, Infants," said Lluella, "when you hear the twang ofthe ghostly harp, that something momentous is bound to happen atBriarwood Hall."
"But more important still," warned Mary, "be sure that your lights areout within twenty minutes after retiring bell sounds. Otherwise youwill have that cat, Picolet, poking into your room to learn what is thematter."