by Ann Shorey
“I’ll keep your secret.” Luellen smiled and turned back to the mirror to slip a silk net over the coil of braids at the back of her head. “After breakfast, would you like to accompany me to the Normal School? I need to make residence arrangements as soon as possible. At two dollars a night here, I’ll run through my savings in no time.”
“The very thing I planned to do myself.” Belle faced Luellen, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I’m so pleased we met. I want to be a teacher in the worst way, but must confess to being frightened at leaving home.”
Looking at her, Luellen felt older than her years. “You’re fortunate to obtain your schooling while you’re still so young.”
“Twenty-one’s not young. Most girls my age are married.”
At Luellen’s surprised expression, she continued, “It’s this round face of mine. People treat me like a child. I worry that I won’t be able to enforce discipline when we do our practice teaching—that’s a big part of the training here.”
Luellen’s stomach tightened. “Right now, I’m worried about all of it. The course listing mentions zoology and botany—they weren’t taught in my school.”
Belle tilted her head. “Do you understand algebra?”
“A little.”
“We’ll help each other. If we register together, perhaps they’ll allow us to share a room.” The brown curls at the back of her neck bounced as she opened the door and preceded Luellen down the stairs to breakfast.
The campus of Allenwood Normal School spread over a broad grassy area. Graveled pathways formed a T in front of a four-story red brick building that dominated the landscape. Maple trees grew at regularly spaced intervals across the lawn, their leaves showing the first tints of autumn. At one end of the path stood a broad two-story building. The school chapel, a square edifice with a cross atop the bell tower, faced Chestnut Street.
The words “Allenwood Hall” were carved into the stone frieze above the double front doors of the administration building. A bronze plaque set into the brick entry read The highest object of education must be that of living a life in accordance with God’s will.
“The drawings in the brochure didn’t do justice to the size of this place,” Luellen said, awed.
“The state capitol at home in Springfield isn’t this tall, but it’s much grander. I’ve visited there with my papa more than once.”
Surprised, Luellen glanced at her new friend. Perhaps they had less in common than she first believed.
After the two women entered Allenwood Hall, they followed an arrow pointing toward the registrar’s office. Their footsteps echoed along the passageway.
“It’s quiet here. I wonder if we’re the first students to arrive,” Belle said.
“Maybe. We’re a week early. I wanted plenty of time to get settled.” Luellen clutched her acceptance letter, hoping her moist palms wouldn’t smear the ink.
A young man looked up from a desk covered with papers. “New students, or returning?”
“New.” A wave of joy swept over Luellen. She was really here, registering for school. “Here’s my acceptance.” She thrust the wrinkled envelope at him.
“Here’s mine,” Belle said. “I’m new too.”
“The registrar will see you one at a time.” He smoothed his sparse moustache and lifted Luellen’s letter. “You may go first. Take this with you. Dr. Alexander’s office is directly to your left.”
The registrar rose when she entered. His height and his wiry hair reminded her of Uncle Matthew. “Welcome. You’re the first student to register for this term, Miss—” He took the envelope, removed the contents, and scanned the first page. “Miss McGarvie.”
She dropped her gaze, feeling a flush rise in her cheeks at his use of her maiden name. Two more weeks to wait. If Brendan failed to appear, which Mr. Stebbins believed to be likely, the circuit court would grant her petition.
The registrar’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Please sit.”
Luellen glanced around. The chairs were piled with books. She hesitated, then lifted a stack onto the floor and settled in a chair facing his desk.
“You’ve had a secondary education in Bryant County, I see.”
“Yes.” She locked her fingers together to keep her hands from trembling.
“It’s our policy to test all students who come to us from the rural areas. I trust you’re prepared to take a placement examination this morning?”
Luellen tried to hide her dismay. Nothing in the acceptance letter had mentioned a qualifying test. The trembling in her hands spread through her body. “Yes, sir. I’m prepared.”
“Excellent.” Dr. Alexander stood and walked to the door. “Down the hall to your right, you will see a room marked ‘Testing—Do Not Disturb.’ Just go on in. Mrs. Hale is waiting—she will be the proctor. Once your examination is reviewed, if your scores are acceptable, we’ll complete the registration process.” His stern face cracked into a smile. “Don’t look so frightened. Most applicants do very well.”
As she walked through the anteroom, she met Belle’s questioning gaze. “I have to take a placement test.”
Belle gasped. “Oh my word. Do you suppose he’ll make me take one too?”
“Depends on where you went to school,” the young man at the desk answered. “Small towns, yes. Cities, no.”
Luellen tried to focus on the test packet, but her eyes kept drooping shut. She wanted nothing more than to lay her head on the table and sleep. An hour to go. She unbuttoned the first two buttons on her bodice and fanned herself. If it weren’t so hot in the room, she knew she’d be better able to concentrate. Mrs. Hale had a book open on her desk, but more than once Luellen caught her nodding off.
The clock ticked toward noon. Luellen turned the next page in the booklet. No. Not zoology. She flipped to the next section. Botany. Swallowing hard, she turned the page again. Literature. She could answer those questions. Relieved, she wrote until the bell in the church steeple tolled twelve.
Mrs. Hale stood. “Time. Be back here at two. We’ll have the results for you.”
7
Luellen stumbled out of Allenwood Hall without waiting to find Belle. She knew the blank sections in her test would send her back to Beldon Grove on the next train. But now all she could think of was sleep. She’d never been so tired.
An omnibus and several carriages passed by on College Avenue as she hurried toward Mrs. Hawks’s house. Once there, she climbed the stairs to her room and opened her trunk. Her Rose of Sharon quilt lay atop books and clothing. She hugged it to her and stretched out on the bed.
Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. All her plans, her dreams, seemed to lie beyond her reach. Why hadn’t she asked about requirements? She’d assumed an acceptance letter was a guarantee. Luellen rolled on her side, heedless of the wrinkles she was causing in her skirt. She pulled the quilt next to her face and felt the scratchy edge where the fire had singed Mama’s embroidery. How appropriate. Singed was just how she felt.
A fly crawling over her cheek awakened her. She brushed at it, but the annoying insect flew in a circle and landed on her face again. How long had she slept? Luellen sat up, dizzy, and settled her glasses back on her nose. Her quilt had fallen to the floor, adding to the clutter in the room. She studied her surroundings for a moment. Enough self-pity. She didn’t get this far by giving up and she wouldn’t quit now.
Opening her reticule, she checked to be sure the bank draft she’d brought to pay for the first term was safely inside. After tucking it under her handkerchief, Luellen smoothed her skirt, folded the quilt across the end of the bed, and straightened her scattered belongings. She tied her bonnet under her chin and closed the door behind her.
Halfway along College Avenue, she heard the bell toll two o’clock. Picking up her pace, she hurried the last blocks to the school. The corridor in Allenwood Hall felt blessedly cool after the heat outside. She strode toward Dr. Alexander’s office.
The young man at the front desk loo
ked up. “Miss McGarvie. You’re expected. Go on back.”
She lifted her head, remembering with a smile Franklin’s friend, Lieutenant Calder. Hold your chin up and look everyone in the eye, he’d said. Somewhere in his life he must’ve had reason to put his own advice into practice, or he wouldn’t know it worked.
Dr. Alexander stood until she’d seated herself, then lifted her test papers from a stack on his desk. His eyes met hers. “I’m sure you must realize your answers in many places were insufficient. In addition to practice teaching in our Model School, our students are expected to reach high standards academically. You cannot teach what you do not know. Allenwood is not organized to compensate for the failures of secondary schools.”
His words stung. Luellen had been at the top of her class every year. She’d read all the books her school offered, and purchased as many others as she could afford. She rose, resting her fingertips on the edge of his desk.
“May I propose a bargain? Admit me for this term and allow me to study the areas I don’t yet know. I’m certain Allenwood’s library can provide the materials. Then let me take the test again. If my answers are still inadequate, I’ll leave. If I succeed, enroll me in the following term without reservations.”
Dr. Alexander studied her, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough. I must say, with that attitude you’re several steps ahead as far as classroom control is concerned.”
He gestured toward the chair. “Please sit. I need to enter your name in the registry.” An oversized ledger lay open beside his right hand. “You’re aware of our fees?”
“The acceptance letter spelled them out quite clearly. Ten dollars for the term, and thirty-five for room and board on campus—is that correct?” She placed her hand over her reticule.
“Yes. You will lodge in the Ladies Hall. You may have noticed the building to the left when you entered.”
She nodded.
“Matron Bledsoe will assign your room.” He held out his hand. “On receipt of satisfactory fees, you may have your possessions delivered there at any time.”
Luellen passed the draft across his desk.
He hesitated.
“Isn’t that the correct amount?”
“It is, but since last month’s bank panic in New York, local bankers have put severe restrictions on even routine transactions. I’m reluctant to accept a draft. Would you be able to pay in specie? Gold or silver coin?”
A headache squeezed her temples. Where would she get forty-five dollars in coin? Were her savings in Bryant County Bank at risk? “I could go to the railroad depot and telegraph my father.” Her voice wobbled. “Even if he’s able to help, it will take time.”
Dr. Alexander cupped his hand over his mouth and studied her. A compassionate expression crossed his face. Again, he reminded her of Uncle Matthew. “Let me see what our bursar advises.” He made a notation in the ledger. “Meantime, feel free to occupy a room in the Ladies Hall. Classes will start next Monday. My assistant has the schedule.”
She stood and extended her hand. “Thank you, Dr. Alexander. For everything.” Luellen left the office, her head spinning. She’d been allowed to register, but for how long? Could a bank failure in New York affect her savings in Illinois?
Belle called a greeting from the parlor when Luellen entered the rooming house. “Come sit with me.” She waved her hand at a pitcher and two glasses on a serving table between upholstered chairs. “Mrs. Hawks has treated us to lemonade.”
“That sounds delightful.” Luellen struggled to act nonchalant. No doubt Belle hadn’t had the same experience she did at school that day. Guilt at passing herself off as Miss McGarvie, worries about additional studies on top of regular classes, and now financial concerns left her feeling drained. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Are you unwell?”
“Just tired. Too much in one day.”
Belle eyed her with sympathy. “I was sorry you had to take that test. You must have passed—you’re registered, aren’t you?”
“Just barely. Dr. Alexander is going to permit me to study independently and test again at the end of the term.”
“Extra studies? In what?”
“Botany and zoology, chiefly.” She removed her bonnet and smoothed her hair. “I need to locate the necessary textbooks in the school library.” Fatigue settled in her bones. She couldn’t have studied a nursery rhyme and made sense of it.
“I went to the Ladies Hall while you were occupied.” Belle handed Luellen a glass of lemonade. “Mrs. Bledsoe, the matron, said we couldn’t share a room, but she did assign us adjoining quarters. I’ve already made arrangements for a delivery man to take our things to the campus.”
“Oh, thank you! I’m grateful for your help. I’m feeling quite overwhelmed.” She sipped the tart beverage while calculating the amount of cash left in her reticule. “What will he charge?”
“I don’t know.” Belle waved a hand. “Not much, I shouldn’t think. My father told me not to worry about expenses. He’s a banker, so he knows all about money.”
The following Monday, Luellen woke early and dressed by lamplight. Breakfast in the ladies’ dining room would be served at seven. At eight the bell would toll for her first class as an Allenwood student.
Her eyes ached from studying late into the night. A zoology textbook lay open on the table under the window, and two more books were stacked on the rug next to the single bed. She fluffed her pillow, tucking it with her nightgown under the Rose of Sharon quilt. Her few garments hung inside a pine wardrobe next to a two-drawer chest that held her underthings. After living in her parents’ home in Beldon Grove, she felt confined in a space smaller than the bedroom she’d shared with Lily.
Luellen looked out at the approaching dawn, remembering how the prairie turned golden at daylight. Here all she saw were brick and stone buildings. She sighed. In due time, she’d take her certificate and return to the prairie to teach. Farmers’ children deserved more than the rod and rote memorization.
She blew out the lamp and stepped into the hallway, stopping at the next room. “Belle. Are you awake?”
The door opened. “I’ve been up for an hour. I heard you moving around in there.” Belle rubbed her hands together. “Let’s have breakfast and go to our lecture class early.”
“I’m glad geography is the first session,” Luellen said as they descended the stairs. “I’ve always done well with maps.”
“I don’t know south from west.” Belle giggled, dimples accenting her cheeks. “The good thing about maps is that little arrow at the top pointing north. Keeps me straight.”
After the meal, Luellen and Belle, along with other women boarders, headed across the campus toward the ladies’ entrance to the lecture hall. Male students joined them on the pathway, but according to the rules, no conversation between the sexes was allowed. Upon reaching the building, the men entered by a separate door.
Inside, tables were arranged in two columns with an aisle in the middle. Clerestory windows let in morning light and lamps were lit along the walls. The men sat on the right side of the hall. Luellen and Belle found seats among the other female students on the left.
Promptly at eight the instructor entered, stepped to the podium, and class began. After aiming at this goal for four years, Luellen wanted to pinch herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. She couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her face when she opened the textbook to the first page.
The week slipped by in a blur of studies. When Luellen hadn’t heard from the registrar about her financial status by Friday, she went to Allenwood Hall after her last class of the day.
“May I see Dr. Alexander, please?” she asked the young man in the anteroom.
“I remember you. You’re Miss McGarvie.”
“That’s right.” The lie pricked her conscience. God willing, in one more week it would be the truth. She took a closer look at him—sandy hair, pale gray eyes, wispy moustache, maybe midtwenties. “You must see doze
ns of students a day. I’m surprised you recalled my name.”
He stood and bowed in her direction, scattering papers on the floor as he did so. “You’re a striking woman, if you’ll pardon my boldness. I hoped I’d see you again.” A blush covered his pale cheeks.
She swallowed. His comments boosted her spirits, laid low after Brendan’s devastating departure. But unlike some of the girls on campus, she hadn’t come to Allenwood to find a husband. If she had, there’d be no shortage of men to choose from. Allenwood’s population appeared to be several men to every woman.
Realizing he was waiting for a response, she said, “Well, here I am. Now, is Dr. Alexander available?”
He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Forgive my impudence.” He bent and gathered up the dropped papers, clutching them in his right hand. “I’ll go—”
“Who’s out there, Mr. Price?” Dr. Alexander stepped out of his office. “Miss McGarvie. I was planning to send for you. Come in, please.”
She followed him, sensing Mr. Price’s gaze tracking her down the hallway. Dr. Alexander drew a chair out for her and took his place at his desk. A stack of paper rested on the open pages of a ledger. “I’ve heard from the bursar.”
Tension prickled over Luellen. She tightened her grip on the arms of the chair. “Yes?”
“Have you contacted your father yet?”
“No.” She looked down at her hands. “I hoped I wouldn’t have to.”
“I suggest you do. The bursar was able to negotiate your draft, but further financial problems have come to light.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Not with you personally. With the country in general. The reports from New York are not good.” His voice softened and took on a fatherly tone. “If you have funds in a bank in your hometown, it would be a good idea to convert them to gold as quickly as possible.”