Dorothy at Oak Knowe

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER XVII

  COMMENCEMENT; AND CONCLUSION

  Dorothy in disgrace! That seemed an incredible thing to herschoolmates, who had hitherto believed "Dixie" to be the one greatfavorite of all.

  However, she could never speak of the matter to anybody, except theBishop when he came home from his southern journey and the news he hadto bring her was so far more important and saddening that a shortconfinement "on bounds" seemed actually trivial. For Uncle Seth wasdead. The dear guardian and wise counselor would greet her no more. Atfirst her grief seemed unbearable; but the good Bishop took her intohis own home for a little time and she came back to Oak Knowe somewhatcomforted for her loss.

  Besides she had had a little talk with Miss Tross-Kingdon, and therewas again sweet peace and confidence between them. Miss Muriel nowhelped the girl in her work, inciting her ambition and keeping her sowell employed that she had little time to sit and grieve.

  Indeed, the spirit of ambition was in everyone's heart. Easterholidays were past, spring exams proved fairly satisfactory with muchyet to be accomplished before Commencement came. So the weeks fairlyflew, the outdoor recreations changing with the seasons, and Dorothylearning the games of cricket and golf, which were new to her andwhich she described in her letters home as "adorably fascinating andEnglish." Tennis and basket-ball were not so new. She had played theseat the Rhinelander Academy, the first private school she had everattended; but for even these familiar sports she spared little time.

  "It does seem as if the minutes weren't half as long as they were inthe winter, Winifred! There's so much, so much I want to finish andthe time so short. Why, it's the middle of June already, andCommencement on the twenty-first. Only six days for us to be together,dear!" cried Dorothy in the music room with her violin on her lap, andher friend whirling about on the piano stool.

  They were "programmed" for a duet, the most difficult they had everundertaken, and were resting for the moment from their practicingwhile Dorothy's thoughts ran back over the year that was past.

  "Such a lot of things have happened. So many bad ones that have turnedout good. Maybe, the best of all was Jack-boot-boy's running away andour finding him. It gave Robin and me a rather unhappy time, but it'sturned out fine for him, because as he says: 'It's knocked thenonsense out of me.'"

  "The Dame will let no more creep in. Old John told me how it was. Soonas Dr. Winston told him where Jack was, at that hospital, he said tohis wife: 'I'm going to see him.' Then that 'rare silent woman' spokeher mind. 'Husband, that'll do. I'll ride yon, on the cart, to fetchhim home here to our cottage. The doctor says he's well enough toleave that place. I'll get him bound out to me till he's twenty-one.Then I'll let him go to 'seek' that 'fortune' he yearns for, with anew suit of clothes on his back and a hundred dollars in his pocket.That's the law and I've took him in hand."

  "So he's settled and done for, for a long time to come. It's just finefor him, they'll treat him like a son--Baal can live his days out in apen--and Jack will grow up better fitted for his own station in life,as you Canadians say. Down in the States we believe that folks maketheir own 'stations'; don't find them hanging around their necks whenthey are born. Why I know a boy who was--"

  "There, Dolly Doodles! Don't get started on that subject. I know himby heart. One remarkable creature named James Barlow, who couldn'tspell till you taught him and now has aspirations toward a collegeprofessorship. By the letters he writes, I should judge him to be ahorrible prig. I wish I could see him once. I'd make him bow his loftyhead; you'd find out!"

  Dorothy pulled a letter from her pocket and tossed it into herfriend's hands.

  "You'll soon have a chance. Read that."

  "Oh! may I?"

  But the reading was brief and an expression of great disappointmentcame to Winifred's face.

  "Oh, Dorothy! How horrid!"

  "Yes, dear. I felt so, too, at first. Now all I feel is a wish to bethrough so I can hurry home to dear Aunt Betty who must need medreadfully, or she'd never disappoint us like this."

  "It was such a beautiful plan. We should have had such a lovely time.Ah! here comes Gwen. Girl, what do you think? Mrs. Calvert isn't wellenough to come to Canada, after all, and Dorothy has got to go home.When it's all fixed, too. Father's freed himself from business forthree delightful months, and we three, with her were to go jauntingabout all over the country in his private car, and Dorothy to learnthat Canada beats the States all to pieces."

  Gwendolyn shared the disappointment. That trio had been dubbed bytheir mates as the "Inseparables" and the love between them all wasnow deep and sincere.

  "Read it aloud, Gwen. Maybe there's a chance yet, that I overlooked. Iwas so mad I couldn't half see that upstart's writing--not after thefirst few words. He doesn't mince matters, does he?"

  The letter ran thus:

  "DEAR DOROTHY:

  "Mrs. Calvert will not be able to come to Canada to meet you. She is not ill in bed but she needs you here. Dinah is taking care of her now, and Ephraim and I have decided that it is best for us two to come to Oak Knowe to fetch you home. Of course, you could come alone, as you went, but I'm at leisure now, and have laid aside enough from my year's earnings to pay the expenses of us all; and Ephraim wants to go for you. He says 'it ain' fitten fo' no young lady lak my li'l Miss to go trabbelin' erbout de country widout her own serbant-boy to take care ob her. Mah Miss Betty was clean bewitchted, erlowin' hit in de fust place, but she's laid up an' ole Eph, he ain' gwine hab no mo' such foolishness.'

  "Those are his own words and lately--Well, I don't like to go against that old man's wishes. So he and I will be on hand by the twenty-first of June and I expect can get put up somewhere, though I'm ignorant as to what they do with negroes in Canada.

  "Faithfully, "JIM."

  "Negroes! Negroes? Why, is that Ephraim a negro?"

  "Yes, indeed. As black as ink, almost, with the finest white head--ofwool! Not quite so thick and curly as your 'barristers' wear, buthandsome, I think. It represents so many, many years of faithfulservice. That dear old man has taken care of Aunt Betty ever since shewas a child, and does so still. Nobody knows his real age, but it'sone proof of his devotion to her that he'll take this long journeyjust because he remembers what's 'fitten,' even if she has growncareless about it. You see, it's Uncle Seth's death that must havechanged her so," said Dorothy, musingly, with her eyes on the floor.

  The other two exchanged pitying glances, and it rose to Winifred'slips to say:

  "But she let you come alone in the fall and he wasn't dead then;" butshe refrained. She knew, for Dolly had told her, that all that winterDorothy's home letters had not seemed quite the same as they had used,during other separations from her aunt; and that many of them hadbeen written for Mrs. Calvert by various friends of the old lady's,"just to oblige." Never before had the sprightly Mrs. Betty shrunkfrom writing her own letters; and, indeed, had done so often enoughduring the early winter to prevent Dorothy's suspicion of anythingamiss.

  "Auntie dear, is so old, you know girls, that of course she does needme. Besides she's been all over the world and seen everything, sothere's really 'nothing new under the sun' for her. That's why thisjunketing around we'd planned so finely, doesn't appeal to her as itdoes to us," said Dorothy, at last, lifting her violin to her shoulderand rising to her feet. "Shall we try it again, Win? And, Gwen, dear,have you finished your picture yet for the exhibition?"

  "Just finished, Dolly. And I forgot my errand here. Miss Muriel sentme to tell you girls that the dressmaker was in the sewing-room,giving last fittings to our frocks. She wants us to go there rightafter practice hour, for we must not lose our turn. I wanted to wearthat beautiful one Mamma sent me from Paris but 'No' was the word.'There will be no change in our custom. Each girl will wear a plainwhite lawn Commencement frock, untrimmed, and with no decorationexcept a sash of each Form's colors.' So there we are, same ol
dsix-pences, and dowds I think, every one of us."

  But when those few days intervening had passed and great Oak Knowewas alight with its hundreds of daintily robed girls, there was not asingle "dowd" among them; nor one, whether unknown "charity" scholaror otherwise who felt envy of any difference between themselves orothers.

  "What a glorious day! What crowds are here and coming. Assemblyand all the rooms near it will be packed closer than ever! Oh!I'm so happy I can't keep still! No more lessons, no moreearly-to-bed-and-rise business for three delightful months! There'sfather! There he is--right in the front row of guests' seats. Rightamongst the 'Peers,' where he belongs by right!" cried Winifred,turning Dorothy's head around that she might see the object of her owngreat excitement. "See, see! He's looking our way. He's discoveredus! And he's awfully disappointed about you. He never forgave MissTross-Kingdon that she wouldn't let you take that Ice Palace tripwith us, just because you'd broken a few rules. But never you mind,darling. Though this is the end of Oak Knowe for us together, it isn'tthe end of the world--nor time. Father shall bring me to you, heshall, indeed! Just think how it would help my education to visitthe States! But, hark! The bugle is blowing--fall into line!"

  From their peep-hole in the hall Dorothy, also, could see the gueststaking seats; and clutching Winifred's sleeve, whispered:

  "Look! Look! Away there at the back of Assembly, close to thedoor--that's Jim! That's Ephy! Oh! isn't it good to see them? For nomatter now, I'm not without my own home folks any more than the restof you. After banquet I'll introduce you if I get a chance."

  Then they fell into the line of white clad girls, and to the strainsof a march played by the Seventh Form graduates, three hundred brightfaced maidens--large and small--filed to their places in Assembly fortheir last appearance all together.

  It was a Commencement like multitudes of others; with the usual eagerinterest in guessing who'd be prize winners. The most highly valuedprize of each year at Oak Knowe was the gold medal for improvement inconduct. Who would get it? Looking back the "Inseparables" could thinkof nobody who'd shown marked advance along that line; Winifredremarking, complacently:

  "I think we're all about as good as can be, anyway. 'Cause we're notallowed to be anything else."

  "I know who's improved most, though. I hope--Oh! I hope she'll getit!"

  And when the announcement was made she did! Said the Bishop, whoconferred the diplomas and prizes:

  "The Improvement Gold Medal, the highest honor our faculty can bestow,is this year awarded to--" Here the speaker paused just long enough towhet the curiosity of those eager girls--"To the Honorable GwendolynBorst-Kennard. Will she kindly advance and receive it?"

  Never was "honor girl" more deeply moved, surprised, and grateful thanthis once so haughty "Peer," now humble at heart as the meekest"Charity" present, and never such deafening cheers and hand-clapsgreeted the recipient of that coveted prize.

  Other lesser prizes followed: to Winifred's surprise, she had gained"Distinction" in physical culture; Florita in mathematics; and a new"Distinction" was announced for that year--"To Miss Dorothy Calvertfor uniform courtesy," and one that she valued less: a gold star foradvancement in music.

  "Two prizes, Dolly Doodles! You ought to should give poor Gracie one,you should. 'Tis not nice for one girl to have two, but my AuntiePrin, she couldn't help it. She told the Bishop you'd always been abeautiful behaver, an' she must. Now, it's all over, and I'm glad.I'm so tired and hungry. Come to banquet."

  After all it was the same as most Commencements the world over, withits joys and its anticipations. What of the latter's realization? InDorothy's case at least the telling thereof is not for this time orplace; but all is duly related in a new story and a new volume whichtells of "Dorothy's Triumph." But there was that year one innovationat the banquet, that farewell feast of all the school together. Forthe company was but just seated when there stalked majestically intothe great hall an old negro in livery.

  Pulling his forelock respectfully toward the Bishop, bowing andscraping his foot as his Miss Betty had long ago taught him, hemarched straight to his Miss Dorothy's chair and took his stand behindit. He took no notice when turning her head she flashed a ratherfrightened smile in his direction, nor did either of them speak. Butshe glanced over to the head of the table and received an approvingnod from her beloved Bishop; whose own heart felt a thrill of happymemory as he beheld this scene. So, away back in boyhood's days, inthe dining-room at beautiful Bellevieu, had this same white-headed"boy" served those he had loved and lost.

  To him it was pathetic; to other observers, a novelty and curiosity;but to Dorothy and Ephraim themselves, after that first minute, a merematter of course. Looking over that great table, the girl's face grewthoughtful. She had come among all these a stranger; she was leavingthem a friend with everyone. The days that were coming might be happy,might be sorry; yet she was not alone. Old Ephraim stood behind her,faithful to the end; and out in the hall waited James Barlow, alsofaithful and full of the courage of young life and great ambition.No, she was not alone, whatever came or had come; and, after all, itwas sweet to be going back to the familiar places and the familiarfriends. So, the banquet at its end, by a nod from the Bishop, shedrew her violin from under the table and rising in her place playedsweetly and joyfully that forever well loved melody of "Home, SweetHome."

  One by one, or in groups, the company melted away. Each to her newlife of joy or sorrow or as general, both intermingled.

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  Transcriber's note:

  Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words andintent.