Girls of Highland Hall: Further Adventures of the Dandelion Cottagers

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Girls of Highland Hall: Further Adventures of the Dandelion Cottagers Page 6

by Carroll Watson Rankin


  CHAPTER V

  NEW ACQUAINTANCES

  The French teacher, Madame Celeste Bolande, was easily the mostinteresting of all the teachers. She afforded the girls a vast deal ofamusement as well as much annoyance. As a topic of conversation she wasinexhaustible. She was truly wonderful to look at but the snapshots thatthe Miller girls took of her failed to do her justice.

  "Doctor Rhodes must have ordered her by mail," said Cora Doyle, afterher first French lesson with the new teacher. "Phew! I'm glad to getoutdoors. She was fairly drenched with perfume."

  "Yes," agreed Debbie Clark. "Doctor Rhodes couldn't have seen her firstor he never would have taken her. What's that stuff about a pig in apoke? Well, that's how he got her. I'm sure _she_ isn't a relative, evenby marriage."

  Madame Bolande was really amazing to look at and if the girls spoke ofher disrespectfully it was not surprising. No properly brought up littlegirl _could_ have respected that astonishing lady. Nature had been kindto her; she might have been entirely pleasing to the eye, but forseveral reasons she was not. She had quantities of black hair,apparently all her own, but it was always greasy and untidy as if itwere never washed or brushed or combed. It hung about her face in oilyloops that had a way of breaking loose at odd moments, at which timesMadame would pin them carelessly in place and go on with the lesson.

  Sometimes she wore so-called laced shoes, sometimes buttoned ones.However, most of the time they were neither laced nor buttoned. Whethershe wore black stockings with large holes in them or soiled white ones,they were constantly coming down. It was a perpetual joy to the girls tosee her reach down, casually, to haul the slipping stocking back intoplace. As Madame sat at a small table in the center of the class room,with the girls on a long bench against the wall, this amusing operation,though it took place beneath the table, was always plainly visible.

  Buttons were missing from her tight-fitting black frock, showing manyhued undergarments not supposed to be seen. Bits of ragged petticoatsalways dangled below the bottom of her skirt. Her neck, her ears and herfinger nails were visibly dirty.

  Madame's face, however, was quite a different matter. Her shapelycountenance, from ear to ear, from brow to chin, was carefully plasteredwith powder, her cheeks and lips were rouged and a dab of blue decoratedeach eyelid. But, with the exception of her rather handsome face, herwhole person was woefully neglected.

  As a horrible example, Madame proved decidedly useful. No girl _could_look upon that lady and fail to bathe. No girl _could_ note that lady'sdangling petticoats of green or cerise silk or soiled white cotton withtorn lace and fail to fasten her own neat underskirt securely intoplace. Even Mabel, it was noticed, began at once to take pains to braidher own troublesome locks more tidily.

  "It isn't because she's _poor_," said Henrietta. "I've seen lots of poorpeople right in France and most of them are just as neat as wax; and soclever about making the most of what they have. And it isn't because shedoesn't have _time_ to mend her clothes or to bathe or wash her hair.She has all her afternoons and evenings, except when she has papers tocorrect--_that_ doesn't take so very much of her time."

  "She's just naturally that way," said Anne Blodgett, sagely.

  "She bathes in perfume," explained Sallie.

  "It's the one thing she does bathe in," breathed Anne.

  "Well," laughed Sallie, "she has enough to fill a _small_ bathtub. Thereare ten bottles on her dresser and you know how horribly she smells ofthe stuff. Isn't she just awful! She never makes her bed or hangs up herclothes and she smokes cigarettes--they're all over the place. Shedoesn't even do that like a lady."

  "Oh, she _isn't_ a lady," said Henrietta. "Was she here last year?"

  "No," returned Sallie, "she's as new as you are."

  Henrietta and the French teacher were enemies from the beginning.Henrietta, having lived in France and having had an excellent Frenchgoverness for a number of years, could chatter in French like a littlemagpie. Madame chattered too and Henrietta made a discovery. Madame'sFrench was ungrammatical. Madame was distinctly uneducated and decidedlylower class--no fit instructor for a girls' school. Yet at first Madamebehaved circumspectly; although she told fascinating tales of life inParis, there was much that she did not tell. She barely hinted atromantic incidents in her own life. Her husband had been a milliner.They had come to the States where after two years death had descendedupon her so noble Alphonse, and it had become necessary for Madame toteach "in some pig of a school" in order to earn money so that she mightin time return to her so beautiful France.

  Madame Bolande knew that Henrietta was aware of all her shortcomings asa teacher; for Henrietta frequently pointed out Madame's sometimeslaughable errors. Naturally, the Frenchwoman both hated and feared "Thatso bad Mees Henrietta," and that young person was quite unable torespect her teacher; so there were lively sessions in class when mockingHenrietta goaded Madame so nearly to frenzy that Madame fairly shriekedwith rage. All this resulted in exceedingly bad marks for Henrietta, whoreally deserved good ones for her French and very bad ones for herconduct; but Madame did not discriminate. She gave her the very blackestmarks she could fish from the depths of her ink bottle.

  Miss Woodruff, on the other hand, bathed frequently in real water, woreher smooth hair in the neatest of knobs and was undoubtedly a welleducated woman; and, in some ways, an excellent teacher. She taughtEnglish and mathematics, for instance, in a way to inspire respect forher deep knowledge; but her manner of doing it was frequentlyunpleasant. The girls frankly hated her at times because she heapedridicule upon them when they failed. She was often cold and cuttinglysarcastic when a little sympathy would perhaps have accomplished more.

  Day after day, Bettie, who was stupid anyway in mathematics, quailedunder the large lady's biting sarcasm and grew more and more confused asto numbers; until, as she put it afterwards, she didn't know whether shewas shingling a ceiling or plastering a roof with nineteen quarts of icecream picked from twenty-seven apple trees, at three cents a yard.

  Maude Wilder, who liked Bettie, and who had suffered considerably on herown account, eyed Miss Woodruff balefully and plotted revenge.

  The girls loved Maude. She wasn't a pretty girl, but her pale brown eyeswith amber lights in them twinkled delightfully and the corners of hermouth crinkled easily into whimsical smiles. Almost anything amusedMaude and she was quite apt to become amused at the wrong moment. Alsoshe was able to amuse other persons.

  The pupils at Highland Hall were supposed to respond to roll call eachmorning with a French phrase--a different one each day. Miss Woodruffstood at her desk on the platform, listening intently; while all thepupils sat demurely at _their_ desks, also listening.

  Maude had one phrase--and _only_ one. She made it do the work of a greatmany. With a twinkle in her eye, day after day, Maude folded her handsdemurely and responded blandly: "_Nous avons des raisins blancs et noirsmais pas de cerises._" (We have white and black grapes but no cherries.)

  "But, Maude," Miss Woodruff would say, "that is very good but I shallexpect a different phrase tomorrow. You've used that one long enough."

  "Yes, Ma'am," Maude would reply, meekly.

  But the next morning, to the unfailing delight of all the pupils, thisincorrigible young imp would respond seriously and even more blandlywith the same timeworn and utterly foolish phrase.

  If Maude ever learned another word of French no one ever discovered it.Indeed, Maude was so busy being funny that she had little time forstudy.

  It was Maude, too, who daily stole a pie from the pantry window sillunder the front porch. Maude having discovered a hole in the latticework near the steps, crawled in one day to investigate. She foundnumerous pies cooling on the broad sill. She ate one hurriedly and itmade her ill. One pie, a large pie at that, was plainly too much for onegirl. After that she always took a companion under the porch with herand generously divided the stolen pie. Sometimes the companion wasHenrietta; sometimes it was Marjory, once it was Bettie--but Bettie'sconscience troubled her and she
wouldn't go again. Unhappily, the onlytime that one could be sure of capturing a pie was during the morningrecess, a matter of only fifteen minutes. As the pies were always redhot at that time it required courage to bolt them. The mince pies wereespecially trying, for there is nothing much hotter than a hot raisin.

  Maude never was discovered; but long afterwards the girls wondered ifshe hadn't made some secret arrangement with the cook. She was quitecapable of it for Maude was nothing if not resourceful. And the cook wasa good natured person.

 

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