Dorothy at Oak Knowe

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER VI

  AT THE FALL OF THE MAIDEN'S BATH

  There had, indeed, been strange happenings at Oak Knowe. Beginning onthat first day of Dorothy's life there, with the crash outside thedining-room door. That had been caused by the tripping and fallingwith a loaded tray of one of the best waitresses employed. Afterwardit was discovered that a wire had been stretched across the doorway,low down near to the floor, and not easily noticeable in the dimpassage. Who had done this thing?

  Miss Tross-Kingdon paid scant attention to the incident, apparently,although she caused a very thorough investigation to be secretly made.Nothing came of it.

  Matters went so wrong in the servants' quarters that they becamedemoralized and several threatened to leave. Thefts from one andanother were frequent; yet as often the missing article was found insome unusual place where, as Dawkins declared:

  "Nobody but a crazy person would ha' puttin' it."

  One morning the _chef's_ spotless marble molding-board was founddecorated by a death's-head and bones, done in red paint, and hisangry accusations of his fellow-workers brought the Lady Principal tothe kitchen to restore peace. But peace did not last long. The headlaundress, who personally "did up" the finest pieces in "the wash,"found her pile of them deluged with blueing, so that her work had tobe done all over again. These were but samples of the strangehappenings; and though most of the servants had been so long at OakKnowe that they considered it their real home, some of the most loyalto its interests felt they couldn't endure this state of things muchlonger.

  Then had come the fright of little Grace, followed by that of thehousemaid, whom no arguments could calm, and who rushed out of MissMuriel's parlor as she rushed into it, departing that hour for goodand all and to spread far and near ill reports of the great school.

  However, after that day nothing further happened. At a secret meetingof the faculty it was decided to take no outward notice of thesedisturbances, but to keep silent watch until such a time as theculprit, or culprits, should betray themselves.

  "He or she is bound to do so, after a time. There's always a hitchsomewhere in such mischievous schemes and nothing worse than mortalhands has performed this 'witch work,'" said the Bishop calmly,though vexed that such foolishness could be found at his beloved OakKnowe.

  Then for many days the disturbances ceased.

  Dorothy fell into the daily life of the school with all her heart,making friends with her mates in her own Form and even with some ofthe older girls. Best of all, she had lost all fear of the LadyPrincipal, whose heart she had won by her devotion to littleMillikins. She even begged forgiveness for Winifred, against whom theteacher still felt some resentment; saying to Dolly:

  "It isn't what she did--in itself--so much as her broken trust. Shehas been with me so long, she has been taught so constantly, that Ifeel indignant at her deception. Anything but deception, Dorothy.Remember that a treacherous person is more to be feared than an openlywicked one."

  "But, dear Miss Muriel, Winifred will never cheat again. Never,I know. She won't go off bounds a step now, even though her'restriction's' taken off. And she keeps away from me till she makesme feel dreadfully. Says she doesn't want to 'contaminate' and getme into trouble again. Please let her go nutting this afternoon withMiss Aldrich's class."

  "Very well. She may go."

  "One thing more, Miss Tross-Kingdon. When may I, may we, go to seeRobin?"

  The lady smiled. A sudden memory of the scene upon which she hadentered that rainy evening of her first visit to the cottage amusedher, and she answered graciously:

  "Probably on Saturday, if you wish. Though I am still doubtful whetheryour guardians would approve."

  "I can answer for them, dear Miss Muriel. They are just the kind thatwould like me to go. Some of Aunt Betty's dearest friends are verypoor. She finds them honester and more generous than the rich ones. Asfor darling Uncle Seth, he learned to be a regular blacksmith, just sohe could live among them on 'even terms,' he said. Yet he's thewisest, best man in all the world."

  In the Lady Principal's private opinion he was also the mosteccentric; but she did not dash Dorothy's enthusiasm further than tosay:

  "To me it seems wisest to content one's self with the station in whichone has been born. To step aside from the normal path in life--"

  Foreseeing a "lecture," Dorothy interrupted:

  "Beg pardon, Miss Muriel, but there's Win yonder this minute, walkingwith her head down as if she were worrying. She thought her father wascoming home next week and he isn't, and she's so disappointed. She'sreading his letter over again. She said, when I asked her why she wasso blue, that it didn't seem like home here any longer with youoffended, and he wasn't coming, and she had no real home anywhere. Oh!you needn't be afraid of darling Win doing anything crooked again. Dolove her and take her back into your trust, and may I go now to tellher she can go nutting and about Saturday, and may I hurry up?"

  Without waiting an instant longer, Dorothy took permission for grantedand ran out of the house. In reality, she had grieved far more overWinifred's punishment, by being kept on bounds and denied some otherprivileges, than that lively young person had herself.

  Winifred was ashamed, but she wasn't unhappy. Only now this letter ofher father's, and the longing to see him, had sobered her greatly. Yetshe was ready enough for the next amusement that might offer andlooked up eagerly as Dorothy ran towards her across the lawn, crying:

  "Don't look so forlorn, Win! We can go--you can go--"

  "They can go!" finished the other, her mood quickly changing at sightof Dorothy's beaming face. "Where can they go, how can they go, whencan they go, Teacher?"

  "Nutting, with Miss Aldrich's class. On their feet. With baskets andbags and the boot-boy with poles to thresh the trees and carry thenuts! and on Saturday to old John's cottage to hear the Robin sing!"

  "Oh! do you mean it? Do you? Then I know I'm all right with MissMuriel again and I must go and thank her."

  Away hurried the impulsive girl and in the Lady Principal's room waspresently an interview that was delightful to both. For in her heart,beneath a cold manner, Miss Tross-Kingdon kept a warm love for thiswild pupil of hers; and was as ready to believe in Winifred's promisesas the girl was to make them.

  The late autumn day was uncommonly fine. Not only Miss Aldrich, butmost of the other teachers, were to take their classes to a distantforest on their annual nutting excursion, from which, this year,Winifred had felt she would be excluded. Miss Aldrich was not her ownclass director, but the girls in it were her especial friends andbelonged to her gymnasium class. They were all "Commons," exceptMarjorie Lancaster, a gentle little "Peer," whom haughty Gwendolynkept well reminded of her rank.

  "I don't like your being so chummy with those girls, and, worst ofall, with that Dorothy Calvert. She's a pert sort of girl, with nomanner at all. Why, Marjorie, I've seen her leaning against the Bishopjust as if he were a post! _The Bishop_, mind you!"

  "Well, if he wanted her to, what harm, Gwen? Somebody said he knew herpeople over in the States and that's why she was sent away up here tohis school. I like her ever so much. She's so full of fun and sowilling to help a girl, any girl, with her lessons. She learns so easyand I'm so stupid!" protested Marjorie, who was, indeed, more notedfor her failures than her successes at recitations.

  "But I don't like it. If you must have an intimate, why not choose herfrom 'our set'?"

  "The 'Commons' are lots jollier. They're not all the time thinkingabout their clothes, or who's higher ranked than another. I'm thankfulI belong with the Aldrich ten. We have splendid times."

  Gwendolyn sighed. She found it very difficult to keep many of her"set" up to their duty as peers of the realm. "Class distinction" fellfrom her nimble tongue a dozen times a day in reprimands to other"Peers" who would hobnob with untitled schoolmates despite all shecould do; and now to preserve Marjorie from mingling too much with the"Commons," she declared:

  "Well, if you won't come with us, I shall go with you. My
directorwill let me. She always does let me do about as I like. She's lotsmore agreeable than the Lady Principal, who ought to appreciate what Itry to do for the good of the school. When I told her how FloritaSheraton had complained she just couldn't get enough to eat here, shewas cross as two sticks and said: 'Gwendolyn, if you are a realHonorable, you'll not descend to tale-bearing!' Hateful thing. And shecomes of a titled family, too, somebody said. Yes, I'm sure my teacherwill let me."

  "Even a worm will turn," and mild little Marjorie murmured under herbreath:

  "I wish she wouldn't! But, of course, she will, 'cause it's theeasiest way to get along. Yet you'll spoil sport--sure!"

  But the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard was already moving away toannounce her intention to her greatly relieved director. For it wasusually the case, that wherever this young aristocrat went, troublefollowed; for, like the 'twelfth juryman,' she never could understandwhy the 'eleven contrary ones' didn't agree with _him_.

  Nobody stayed at Oak Knowe, that day, who was able to join thisouting: and when nearly three hundred girls take the road, they are agoodly sight worth seeing. Each had been provided with her own littleparcel of lunch packed in the small basket that was to be carried homefull of nuts, and each carried a stout alpenstock, such as theexperienced teachers had found a help on their pupils' long walks.

  "A walk that is less than five miles long is no walk at all forhealthy girls," had been Dr. Winston's remark; adding, for the LadyPrincipal's ear alone: "That'll take the kinks out of them and they'llgive you less trouble, skylarking. Teach them the art of walking andlet them go!"

  To escape Gwendolyn, Marjorie had hurried to the fore of her "Ten" andslipped her arm into Winifred's, who had expected Dorothy instead. Butshe couldn't refuse Marjorie's pleading:

  "Don't look like you didn't want me, Winnie dear. Gwen is bound so totake care of me and I don't need her care. I don't see any differencebetween you 'Commons' and we 'Peers' except that you're nicer."

  "Why, of course, I want you, Marjorie. Can you see Dorothy Calvertanywhere behind? It's so narrow here and the hedge so thick I can'tlook back."

  From her outer place and lower height Marjorie could stoop and peeraround the curve, and gleefully cried:

  "Of all things! The girls have paired off so as to leave Gwen andDolly together at the very end! Another class is so close behind theycan't change very well and I wonder what Gwendolyn will do!"

  "I'm sorry for Dolly, but she'll get on. Gwen has pretended not to seeher so many times that Dorothy can hardly put up with it. Under allher good nature she has a hot temper. You'd ought to have seen herpitch into one of the scullery boys for tormenting a cat. And she saidonce that she'd make Gwendolyn like her yet or know the reason why.Now's her chance to try it! It's all that silly imagination of Gwen'sthat makes her act so. Made up her mind that Dolly is a 'charity'girl, when anybody with common sense would know better. There are someat Oak Knowe, course: we all know that, for it's one of the Bishop'snotions he must give any girl an education who wants it and can't payfor it. But I don't know which ones are; do you?"

  "No, indeed! And if I did, I'd never let them know I knew."

  "Of course you wouldn't. No gentlewoman would, except that stuck-upGwen. Her mother, Lady Jane's so different. She's almost as jolly andsimple as her brother, Dr. Winston. But her Honorable young daughterjust makes me tired! Peek again. What are they doing now?"

  "The 'Peer' is walking like a soldier on parade, stiff as can be,thumping her alpenstock up and down plumpety-plump, hard as nails. ButDorothy seems to be chattering away like a good one!"

  Winifred stooped and peered between the bobbing rows of girls andbranches of trees and caught Dorothy's eye, to whom she beckoned:"Forward!" But Dorothy smilingly signaled "No!"

  "Well, _one_ of that pair is happy, but it isn't Lady Jane's daughter!I fancy we'd best leave them to 'fight it out on that line,'" decidedWinifred, facing about again. "I know Queen Baltimore will downHonorable England at the end."

  Despite her own stiffness, Dorothy's continued chatter at last beganto interest Gwendolyn, and the perfect good nature with which sheaccepted the marked coldness of the haughty girl to make her ashamed.Also, she was surprised to see how the girl from the States enjoyedthe novelty of everything Canadian. The wild flowers especiallyinterested her, and Gwendolyn was compelled to admire the stranger'slove and knowledge of growing things.

  With more decency than she had hitherto shown, she finally asked:

  "However did you come to know so much botany, Miss Calvert?"

  "Why, my Uncle Seth, the Blacksmith, taught me; he lived in the woodsand loved them to that degree--my heart! he would no sooner hurt aplant than a person! He was that way. Some people are, who makefriends of little things. And he was so happy, always, in his smithyunder the Great Tree, which people from all the countryside came tosee, it was so monstrous big. Oh! I wish you could see dear UncleSeth, sitting at the smithy door, reading or talking to the blacksmithinside at the anvil, a man who worked for him and adored him."

  The Honorable Gwendolyn stiffened again, and walked along in freezingsilence. She would have joined some other girl ahead, but none invitedher, and she was too proud to beg for a place beside those who shouldhave felt it an honor to have her. Besides, pride kept her to herplace in the rear.

  "Huh! I'll show this Yankee farrier's niece that I am above caring whois near me. But it's horrid to be forced into such a position and Iwish I hadn't come. Goodness! how her tongue runs! And now what freaksets her 'Oh-ing!' and 'Ah-ing!' that style?" ran Gwendolyn'sthoughts, and she showed her annoyance by asking:

  "Miss Calvert, will you oblige me by not screaming quite so loud? It'swretched form and gets on my nerves, for I'm not used to that sort ofthing."

  "Neither am I!" laughed Dorothy; "but you see, I never saw anythingso lovely as that glimpse before. I couldn't help crying out--we cameupon it so suddenly. Do see yonder!"

  Her finger pointed westward, then was promptly drawn back, as sheadmitted:

  "Pointing is 'bad form,' too, I've been taught. But do look--do look!It's just like fairyland!"

  Gwendolyn did look, though rather against her will, and paused, ascharmed as Dorothy, but in a quieter fashion. She was a considerableartist and her gift in painting her one great talent. Oddly enough,too, she cared less for the praise of others than for the delight ofhandling her brush.

  Beyond, a sudden break in the thick wood revealed a tumblingwaterfall, descending from a cliff by almost regular steps into asunlit pool below. Bordering it on both sides were trees of gorgeouscoloring and mountain ashes laden with their brilliant berries; whilea shimmering vapor rose from the pool beneath, half veiling the littlecascade, foaming white upon the rocks.

  For a moment Gwendolyn regarded the scene in silence but with shiningeyes and parted lips. Then she exclaimed:

  "The very spot we've searched for so often and never found! 'TheMaiden's Bath,' it's called. I've heard about it so much. The story isthat there was an Indian girl so lovely and pure that it was thought amortal sin for mortal eyes to look upon her. She had devoted herselfto the service of the Great Spirit and, to reward her, He formed thisbeautiful Bath for her use alone, hid it so deep in the heart of theforest that no one could find it but she. There was but one trailwhich led to it and--we've found it, we've found it! Hurry up! Come."

  Dorothy stared. Here seemed a new Gwendolyn, whose tongue ran quite asrapidly as her own had ever done, and whose haughty face was nowtransformed by eager delight. As the young artist ran forward towardthe spot, Dolly noticed that no other girl was in sight. They two hadturned a little aside from the smoother path which the rest had taken,Dorothy following the lure of some new wild flower and Gwendolynstiffly following her. Only a minute before the chatter and laughterof many girls had filled the air; now, save for their own footsteps onthe fallen leaves, there was no sound.

  "I wonder where the rest are! Did you see which way they went,Gwendolyn?"

  "No. I didn't notice.
But they're just around the next turn, I fancy.Oh! to think I've found the Bath at last. I must make a little sketchof it and come back as soon as I can with my color box. How the studiogirls will envy me! Every time we've been in these woods we'vesearched for it and now to come upon it all at once, never dreaming,makes me proud! But--_don't you tell_. I'd begun something else fornext exhibition, but I shall drop that and do this. I'll get leave todo it in my recreation hours in some empty class room, and bring itout as a surprise. I wish I'd found it alone. I wish nobody knew itbut me. It must be kept a secret--so don't you dare to tell. Come on."

  "Huh! I reckon if you'll stick to facts, it was I--not you--who foundit. I don't see why I should keep it secret. It doesn't belong toeither of us, it belongs to the whole world. I wish everybody wholoves beauty could enjoy it," answered Dorothy, warmly.

  "Well, go tell then, tattle-tale! You might know a common girl likeyou would be hateful to her betters, if she got a chance!" retortedGwendolyn, angrily.

  It rose to Dorothy's lips to respond: "Tattle-tale and mischief-makeris what all the girls know _you_ are!" but she kept the hard wordsback, "counting ten" vigorously, and also listening for some sound ofher now invisible schoolmates. She wasn't a timid girl, but thesilence of this deep forest startled her, nor looking around could shediscover by what path they had come to this place.

  Then Gwendolyn was hurrying forward, carrying the pocket-pad andpencil without which she went nowhere, and careless of everything butto get her sketch. So Dorothy followed, forgetting her resentment inwatching her companion. To see Gwen's head turning this way, thenthat, squinting her eyes and holding her pencil before them, measuringdistance thus and seeking the "right light," interested the watcherfor the time.

  Finally, the artist had secured a point which suited her and, seatingherself, rapidly drew a picture of one view. She worked so deftly andconfidently, that Dorothy's only feeling now was one of admiration.

  Then a new position was sought and another sketch made, but Gwenpermitted no talk between them.

  "I can't work and talk, too; please be still, can't you?" she asked,looking up from her work.

  And again the real earnestness of the girl she disliked made Dorothyobedient, again rising to follow while Gwen chose another view still,high up near the top of the wonderful cascade. Her face had grown pinkand animated and her eyes glowed with enthusiasm.

  "I shall paint that misty-veil with a glaze of ultramarine. Thereshould be an underwash of madder, and maybe terre verte. Oh! if I canonly make it look one atom as I see it! We must come here again andagain, you and I, Miss Calvert, and you must--you simply _must_ keepthe secret of our finding till after I've exhibited my picture."

  "All right. How long will it be before we can go find the others? youknow we can't gather any nuts right here. I don't see a single nuttree."

  "I don't know how long I shall be, and why care about nuts while wecan have--this?" returned Gwen, indifferently.

  "Very well, I guess I'll take a nap. Seems terrible close in thisshut-in nook and my walk has made me sleepy. I reckon I'll take a nap.Wake me up when you get through."

  So saying, Dorothy curled down upon a mass of mighty ferns, laid herhead on her arm and went to sleep. For how long she never knew, buther awakening was sudden and startling. She had been roused from adream of Bellevieu, her Baltimore home, and of dear Aunt Betty feedingher pets, the Great Danes.

  Brushing the slumber from her eyes, she gazed about her, wondering foran instant, where she was. Then--that frantic shriek again:

  "Help! Help! I'm dr--"

  The cry died in a gurgle and Dorothy sprang to her feet in terror. Shehad warned Gwendolyn not to take that high seat so close to thatslippery rock, from beneath which the cascade began its downward flow.

  "If you fall, it will be straight into the pool. Do be careful, Gwen,how you move."

  But the warning had been useless--Gwendolyn was already in the pool.