CHAPTER XXV
AUNT ALVIRAH AT BRIARWOOD HALL
Mr. Cameron, Helen's father, and Mrs. Murchiston, who had acted asgoverness for the twins until they were old enough to go to boardingschool, were motoring to Briarwood Hall for the graduation exercises. Theyproposed to pick Tom up at Seven Oaks Military Academy, for he would spendanother year at that school, not graduating until the following June.
They also had another guest in the big automobile who took up a deal ofthe attention of the drygoods merchant and Mrs. Murchiston. A two-days'trip was made of it, the party staying at a hotel for the night. AuntAlvirah was going farther from the Red Mill and the town of Cheslow thanshe had ever been in her life before.
First she said she could not possibly do it! What ever would Jabez dowithout her? And he would not hear to it, anyway. And then--there was "herback and her bones."
"Best place for old folks like me is in the chimbly corner," declared AuntAlvirah. "Much as I would love to see my pretty graduate with all themother gals, I don't see how I can do it. It's like uprooting a tree that'sgrowed all its life in one spot. I'm deep-rooted at the Red Mill."
But Mr. Cameron knew it was the wish of the old woman's heart to see "herpretty" graduate from Briarwood Hall. It had been Aunt Alvirah's word thathad made possible Ruth's first going to school with Helen Cameron. It wasshe who had urged Mr. Jabez Potter on, term after term, to give the girlthe education she so craved.
Indeed, Aunt Alvirah had been the good angel of Ruth's existence at theRed Mill. Nobody in the world had so deep an interest in the young girl asthe little old woman who hobbled around the Red Mill kitchen.
Therefore Mr. Cameron was determined that she should go to Briarwood. Hefairly shamed Mr. Potter into hiring a woman to come in to do for Ben andhimself while Aunt Alvirah was gone.
"You ought to shut up your mill altogether and go yourself, Potter,"declared Mr. Cameron. "Think what your girl has done. I'm proud of mydaughter. You should be doubly proud of your niece."
"Well, who says I'm not?" snarled Jabez Potter. "But I can't afford toleave my work to run about to such didoes."
"You'll be sorry some day," suggested Mr. Cameron. "But, at any rate, AuntAlvirah shall go."
And the trip was one of wonder to Aunt Alvirah Boggs. First she wasalarmed, for she confessed to a fear of automobiles. But when she felt thehuge machine which carried them so swiftly over the roads running sosmoothly, Aunt Alvirah became a convert to the new method of locomotion.
At the hotel where they halted for the night, there were more wonders.Aunt Alvirah's knowledge of modern conveniences was from reading only. Shehad never before been nearer to a telephone than to look up at the wiresthat were strung from post to post before the Red Mill. Modern plumbing,an elevator, heating by steam, and many other improvements, were like asealed book to her.
She disliked to be waited upon and whispered to Mrs. Murchiston:
"That air black man a-standin' behind my chair at dinner sort o' makes menarvous. I'm expectin' of him to grab my plate away before I'm doneeatin'."
The day set for the graduation exercises at Briarwood Hall was as lovely aJune day as was ever seen. The Cameron automobile rolled into the groundsand was parked with several dozen machines, just as the girls weremarching into chapel. The fresh young voices chanting "One Wide River toCross" floated across to the ears of the party from the Red Mill, and AuntAlvirah began to hum the song in her cracked, sweet treble.
The automobile party followed the smaller girls along the wide walk of thecampus. There was the new West Dormitory, quite completed on the outside,and sufficiently so inside for the seniors to occupy rooms. Not the oldquartettes and duos of times past; but very beautiful rooms nevertheless,in which they could later entertain their friends who had come to thegraduation exercises.
The organist began to play softly on the great organ in the chapel, andplayed until every girl was seated--the graduating class upon theplatform. Then the school orchestra played and Helen--very pretty in whitewith cherry ribbons--stood forth with her violin and played a solo.
Mrs. Tellingham welcomed the visitors in a short speech. Then there was alittle silence before the strains of an old, old song quivered through thebig chapel. Helen was playing again, with the soft tones of the organ as abackground. And, in a moment Ruth stood up, stepped forward, and began tosing.
The Cheslow party had all heard her before. She was almost always singingabout the old Red Mill when she was at home. But into this ballad sheseemed to put more feeling than ever before. The tears ran down AuntAlvirah's withered cheeks. Ruth did not know the dear old woman waspresent, for it was to be a surprise to her; but she might have beensinging just for Aunt Alvirah alone.
"This pays me for coming, Miz' Murchiston, if nothin' else would,"whispered Aunt Alvirah. "I can see my pretty often and often, I hope. ButI'll never hear her sing again like this."
The exercises went smoothly. A learned man made a helpful speech. Then,while there was more music, a curtain fell between the graduating classand the audience.
When it rose again the girls were grouped about a light throne, trimmedwith flowers, on which sat the girl who had proved herself to be the bestscholar of them all--the lame girl, Mercy Curtis. She was flushed, she wasexcited and, if never before, Mercy Curtis looked actually pretty.
Laughing and singing, her mates rolled the throne down to the edge of theplatform, and there, still sitting in her pretty, flowing white robes,Mercy gave them the valedictory oration. It was Ruth's idea, filched fromthe transformation scene in her moving picture scenario.
Afterward the other girls had their turns. Ruth's own paper upon "TheForce of Character" and Jennie's funny "History of a Bunch of Briers"received the most applause.
Mrs. Tellingham came last. As was her custom she spoke briefly of the workof the past year and her hopes for the next one; but mainly she lingeredupon the story of the rebuilding of the West Dormitory and the loyalty thegirls had shown in making the new building a possibility.
There was a debt upon it yet; but the royalties from the picture play werecoming in most satisfactorily. The preceptress urged all her guests to dowhat they could to advertise the film of "The Heart of a Schoolgirl" intheir home towns, and especially urged them to see it.
"You will be well repaid. Not alone because it is a true picture of ourboarding school life, but because the writer of the scenario has produceda good and helpful story, and Mr. Hammond has put it on the screen withtaste and judgment."
These were Mrs. Tellingham's words, and they made Ruth Fielding veryproud.
The diplomas were given out after a touching address by the localclergyman. The girls received the parchments with happy hearts. Theirfaces shone and their eyes were bright.
The graduating class held a sort of reception on the platform; but after atime Helen urged Ruth away from the crowd. "Come on!" she said. "Let's goup into the new-old-room. We'll not have many chances of being in it now."
"That's right. Only to-night," sighed Ruth. "Away to-morrow for the RedMill. And next week we start for Dixie. I wonder if we shall have a goodtime, Helen. Do you think we ought to have promised Nettie and her auntthat we would come?"
"Surely! Why, we'll have a dandy time," declared Helen, "just us girlsalone."
This belief proved true in the end, as may be learned in the next volumeof this series, to be entitled "Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie; Or, GreatDays in the Land of Cotton."
"I didn't see your father or Tom or Mrs. Murchiston," Ruth said, as sheand Helen walked across the campus.
"They are here, just the same," said Helen, laughing.
"Where?"
"I shouldn't be surprised if we found them up in our old quartette. Ann iswith her Uncle Bill Hicks, and Mercy is with her father and mother. Weshall have the room to ourselves. We'll get out my new tea set and givethem tea. Come on!"
Helen raced up the stairs, opened the door of the big room, and then gotbehind it so that Ruth, coming hurriedly in, s
hould first see the little,quivering, eager figure which had risen out of the low chair by thewindow.
"My pretty! my pretty!" gasped Aunt Alvirah. "I seen you graduate, and Iheard you sing, and I listened to your fine readin'. But, oh, my pretty,how hungry my arms are for ye!"
She hobbled across the floor to meet Ruth and, for once, forgot herusually intoned complaint: "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!" Ruth caughther in her strong young arms. Helen slipped out and joined her family inthe hall.
In a little while Tom thundered on the door, and shouted: "Hey! we'redying for that cup of tea Helen promised us, Ruthie Fielding. Aren't youever going to let us in?"
Ruth's smiling face immediately appeared. Her eyes were still wet and herlips trembled as she said:
"Come in, all of you, do! We are sure to have a nice cup of tea. AuntAlvirah is making it herself."
THE END
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