Part 13 (1/2)

A large, beautiful building attracted her attention. There were handsome grounds about it, and girls playing some game with a ball and curious webbed implements across a net of cords. Elizabeth drew her horse to the side of the road, and watched a few minutes. One girl was skilful, and hit the ball back every time. Elizabeth almost exclaimed out loud once when a particularly fine ball was played. She rode reluctantly on when the game was finished, and saw over the arched gateway the words, ”Janeway School for Girls.”

Ah! This was Philadelphia at last, and here was her school. She would go in at once before she went to her grandmother's. It might be better.

She dismounted, and tied the horse to an iron ring in a post by the sidewalk. Then she went slowly, shyly up the steps into the charmed circles of learning. She knew she was shabby, but her long journey would explain that. Would they be kind to her, and let her study?

She stood some time before the door, with a group of laughing girls not far away whispering about her. She smiled at them; but they did not return the salutation, and their actions made her more shy. At last she stepped into the open door, and a maid in cap and ap.r.o.n came forward. ”You must not come in here, miss,” she said imperiously. ”This is a school.”

”Yes,” said Elizabeth gravely, smiling. ”I want to see the teacher.”

”She's busy. You can't see her,” snapped the maid.

”Then I will wait till she is ready. I've come a great many miles, and I must see her.”

The maid retreated at this, and an elegant woman in trailing black silk and gold-rimmed gla.s.ses approached threateningly. This was a new kind of beggar, of course, and must be dealt with at once.

”What do you want?” she asked frigidly.

”I've come to school,” said Elizabeth confidingly. ”I know I don't look very nice, but I've had to come all the way from Montana on horseback. If you could let me go where I can have some water and a thread and needle, I can make myself look better.”

The woman eyed the girl incredulously.

”You have come to school!” she said; and her voice was large, and frightened Elizabeth. ”You have come all the way from Montana! Impossible!

You must be crazy.”

”No, ma'am, I'm not crazy,” said Elizabeth. ”I just want to go to school.”

The woman perceived that this might be an interesting case for benevolently inclined people. It was nothing but an annoyance to herself.

”My dear girl,”--her tone was bland and disagreeable now,--”are you aware that it takes money to come to school?”

”Does it?” said Elizabeth. ”No, I didn't know it, but I have some money. I could give you ten dollars right now; and, if that is not enough, I might work some way, and earn more.”

The woman laughed disagreeably.

”It is impossible,” she said. ”The yearly tuition here is five hundred dollars. Besides, we do not take girls of your cla.s.s. This is a finis.h.i.+ng school for young ladies. You will have to inquire further,” and the woman swept away to laugh with her colleagues over the queer character, the new kind of tramp, she had just been called to interview. The maid came pertly forward, and said that Elizabeth could not longer stand where she was.

Bewilderment and bitter disappointment in her face, Elizabeth went slowly down to her horse, the great tears welling up into her eyes. As she rode away, she kept turning back to the school grounds wistfully. She did not notice the pa.s.sers-by, nor know that they were commenting upon her appearance. She made a striking picture in her rough garments, with her wealth of hair, her tanned skin, and tear-filled eyes. An artist noticed it, and watched her down the street, half thinking he would follow and secure her as a model for his next picture.

A woman, gaudily bedecked in soiled finery, her face giving evidence of the frequent use of rouge and powder, watched her, and followed, pondering. At last she called, ”My dear, my dear, wait a minute.” She had to speak several times before Elizabeth saw that she was talking to her.

Then the horse was halted by the sidewalk.

”My dear,” said the woman, ”you look tired and disappointed. Don't you want to come home with me for a little while, and rest?”

”Thank you,” said Elizabeth, ”but I am afraid I must go on. I only stop on Sundays.”

”But just come home with me for a little while,” coaxed the wheedling tones. ”You look so tired, and I've some girls of my own. I know you would enjoy resting and talking with them.”

The kindness in her tones touched the weary girl. Her pride had been stung to the quick by the haughty woman in the school. This woman would soothe her with kindness.