Part 24 (1/2)
”Ten guineas.”
”Was that, in your opinion, a fair price for the jacket?”
”The jacket was worth a great deal more. The price I paid for it was much below its value.”
Miss Eccleston made some further notes in her book. Then she looked up.
”Have you anything more to say, Miss Oliphant?”
”I could say more. I could make you think even worse of me than you now think, but as any further disclosures of mine would bring another girl into trouble I would rather not speak.”
”You are certainly not forced to speak. I am obliged to you for the candor with which you have treated me.”
Miss Eccleston then turned to Miss Heath and said a few words to her in a low voice. Her words were not heard by the anxiously listening girls, but they seemed to displease Miss Heath, who shook her head; but Miss Eccleston held very firmly to her own opinion. After a pause of a few minutes, Miss Heath came forward and addressed the young girls who were a.s.sembled before her.
”The leading spirit of this college,” she said, ”is almost perfect immunity from the bondage of rules. The princ.i.p.als of these halls have fully trusted the students who reside in them and relied on their honor, their rect.i.tude, their sense of sound principle. Hitherto we have had no reason to complain that the spirit of absolute trust which we have shown has been abused; but the circ.u.mstance which has just occurred has given Miss Eccleston and myself some pain.”
”It has surprised us; it has given us a blow,” interrupted Miss Eccleston.
”And Miss Eccleston feels,” proceeded Miss Heath, ”and perhaps she is right, that the matter ought to be laid before the college authorities, who will decide what are the best steps to be taken.”
”You do not agree with that view, do you, Miss Heath?” asked Maggie Oliphant suddenly.
”At first I did not. I leaned to the side of mercy. I thought you might all have learned a lesson in the distress which you have caused us, and that such an occurrence could not happen again.”
”Won't Miss Eccleston adopt your views?” questioned Maggie. She glanced round at her fellow-students as she spoke.
”No-- no,” interrupted Miss Eccleston. ”I cannot accept the responsibility. The college authorities must decide the matter.”
”Remember,” said Maggie, stepping forward a pace or two, ”that we are no children. If we were at school you ought to punish us, and, of course, you would. I hate what I have done, and I own it frankly. But you cannot forget, Miss Eccleston, that no girl here has broken a rule when she attended the auction and bought Miss Singleton's things; and that even Miss Singleton has broken no rule when she went in debt.”
There was a buzz of applause and even a cheer from the girls in the background. Miss Eccleston looked angry, but perplexed. Miss Heath again turned and spoke to her. She replied in a low tone. Miss Heath said something further. At last Miss Eccleston sat down and Miss Heath came forward and addressed Maggie Oliphant.
”Your words have been scarcely respectful, Miss Oliphant,” she said, ”but there is a certain justice in them which my friend, Miss Eccleston, is the first to admit. She has consented, therefore, to defer her final decision for twenty-four hours; at the end of that time the students of Katharine Hall and Heath Hall will know what we finally decide to do.”
After the meeting in Miss Eccleston's drawing-room the affair of the auction a.s.sumed enormous proportions. There was no other topic of conversation. The students took sides vigorously in the matter: the gay, giddy and careless ones voting the auction a rare bit of fun and upholding those who had taken part in it with all their might and main. The more sober and high-minded girls, on the other hand, took Miss Heath's and Miss Eccleston's views of the matter. The principles of the college had been disregarded, the spirit of order had been broken; debt, which was disgraceful, was made light of. These girls felt that the tone of St. Benet's was lowered. Even Maggie Oliphant sank in their estimation. A few went to the length of saying that they could no longer include her in their set.
Katharine Hall, the scene of the auction itself, was, of course, now the place of special interest. Heath Hall was also implicated in it, but Seymour Hall, which stood a little apart from its sister halls, had sent no student to the scene of dissipation. Seymour Hall was the smallest of the three. It was completely isolated from the others, standing in its own lovely grounds on the other side of the road. It now held its head high, and the girls who belonged to the other halls, but had taken no part in the auction, felt that their own beloved halls were lowered, and their resentment was all the keener because the Seymour Hall girls gave themselves airs.
”I shall never live through it,” said Ida Mason, a Heath Hall girl to her favorite chum, Constance Field. ”Nothing can ever be the same again. If my mother knew, Constance, I feel almost sure she would remove me. The whole thing is so small and shabby and horrid, and then to think of Maggie taking part in it! Aren't you awfully shocked, Constance? What is your true opinion?”
”My true opinion,” said Constance, ”is this: it is our duty to uphold our own hall and our own chums. As to the best of us, if we are the best, going away because a thing of this sort has occurred, it is not to be thought of for a moment. Why, Ida,” Constance laughed as she spoke, ”you might as well expect one of the leading officers to desert his regiment when going into battle. You know what Maggie Oliphant is, Ida. As to deserting her because she has had one of her bad half hours, which she frankly confessed to, like the brave girl she is, I would as soon cut off my right hand. Now, Ida, my dear, don't be a little goose. Your part, instead of grumbling and growling and hinting at the place not being fit for you, is to go round to every friend you have in Heath Hall and get them to rally round Maggie and Miss Heath.”
”There's that poor Miss Peel, too,” said Ida, ”Maggie's new friend-- that queer, plain girl; she's sure to be frightfully bullied. I suppose I'd better stick up for her as well?”
”Of course, dear, you certainly ought. But as to Miss Peel being plain, Ida, I don't think I quite agree with you. Her face is too clever for that. Have you watched her when she acts?”
”No, I don't think I have. She seems to be very uninteresting.”
”Look at her next time, and tell me if you think her uninteresting afterward. Now I'm off to find Maggie. She is sure to be having one of her bad times, poor darling.”