Part 24 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXII.

IN MOTLEY RAIMENT.

That was a strange trip we took to Richmond, catching that early train.

No one had had any sleep, but we meant to have some naps on the train.

Dear old Captain Leahy was as good as gold to us. He left us to keep house for him, as he put it, while he went back to the school with the wheelbarrow to get Annie's trunk. Annie was the only one who had a trunk now and grateful indeed she was to the Tuckers for saving it for her.

She kept her clothes in her trunk as a rule, all of the best ones, at least, so she really had suffered almost no loss from the fire.

The rest of us had to do some twisting and turning to get sufficiently clothed to travel. There were no hats at all in the company. Annie had a summer hat packed in her trunk, but no hat at all was better than a summer hat the middle of March. At that date the style of wearing your summer hat in winter and beginning on your winter hat in early fall had not yet penetrated to Gresham.

Mary had fared worse than any of us and all her voluminous skirts had perished in the flames. At least, we thought they had at the time but we heard later that some of the Gresham darkeys were seen dressed in them.

Thomas Hawkins reported this to us. He said he knew Mary's clothes and could not be mistaken.

Mary's home lay in a different direction from Richmond and Mary thought she must leave us and go immediately to her mother, but we persuaded her to call up her mother on long distance and put it up to her that since she was burnt out and had no clothes she had better go to Richmond with us and purchase more.

Mrs. Flannagan thought so, too, and was not a bit grouchy over being called up at five o'clock in the morning to decide. She even said she might come to Richmond herself and superintend the purchasing. We wanted to meet Mary's mother, but we were itching to have charge of the selection of Mary's clothes, certain, in the arrogance of youth, that we could do much better than Mrs. Flannagan.

I am pretty sure that that was the first time school girls had ever left Gresham on that early train with a proper breakfast. Captain Leahy hustled and bustled, and with the a.s.sistance of the girls had a delightful little repast cooked on his doll baby stove. The coffee was not of the finest grade, but it was of the finest make. The toast was piping hot and the fried eggs were beyond reproach. The girls who had been taken to the hotel did not fare so well as we.

Before train time Miss Plympton came to bid us good-bye. She was looking terribly hara.s.sed, having so many girls to attend to. I was glad to see she had changed her pink pajamas for a more suitable attire, also glad that she had remembered to bring my coat back to me.

I had had a little talk with Tweedles while Mary and Annie were 'phoning Mrs. Flannagan, and we had come to the conclusion that we would 'fess up to Miss Plympton about how I got the sprained ankle.

”I'll write to her, if you girls don't mind,” I said. ”I never felt sneakier in my life than when she bit so easily. I would have told her then but I did not want to get you into a sc.r.a.pe, too.”

”Oh, forget it! Forget it!” they tweedled.

We had not expected the honour of a visit from her, as we had got her permission to take the first train home and thought that would be the last of it.

She would not sit down at first, but stood a few minutes in the tiny house, looking curiously around at the Captain's arrangements. We had finished breakfast and Dum and Annie were clearing off the table preparatory to was.h.i.+ng the dishes, although the host insisted on their leaving them.

”We've half an hour to train time and might just as well put it in usefully,” insisted Dum.

”You look that tirred, lady,” said the Captain, ”if ye will excuse an ould man, I think if ye take a coop of coffee 'twill be the savin' of ye.”

She did take one and very grateful she was. I began to feel that Miss Plympton was much more human than I had ever deemed her. It wasn't easy to begin my confession, however, as there were so many present and Miss Plympton tired and broken was still Miss Plympton.

”I have something to tell you,” I faltered, after she had inquired almost tenderly after my ankle. ”I--I--sprained my ankle in the fire drill, not in the fire. Tweedles--I mean Caroline and Virginia--and I, you remember, beat all the girls out of the building. We did not come out the regular way, but slid down the sheets out of our window. There were not enough sheets in our rope then to touch the ground and I had to jump about six feet--and my ankle turned. I did not mean to let you think it was in the fire I had hurt it, but you just took it for granted.”

I waited in great anxiety to see how this confession would strike our august princ.i.p.al. She looked at me curiously and then choked on her coffee and laughed and laughed until the little kittens in Bett's basket came out to see what was the matter. No one had ever seen Miss Plympton really laugh before. Finally she was able to speak.

”After all, I did not say in my instructions to the school what route they were to take to get out of the building when the alarm rang, and if you chose to come by the window perhaps it was none of my business. At any rate, I don't see what is to be done about it now. Certainly demerits would be a farce.”

”Well, I never thought of that!” exclaimed Dum. ”Somehow I've been having a feeling that demerits could never be a farce.”

”They are a farce now. There is something I want to say to you girls--all five of you. I might as well get it over with. I have not understood you and feel that there have been times when I have been unjust. I want you to accept my apology.”

Miss Plympton stood up and held out her hand like a perfect gentleman.