A Sweet Girl Graduate

“But it wasn’t a hoax; it was true. Come away, Miss Oliphant, do. Polly has got some lovely things.”

“I don’t think I even know who Polly is,” said Maggie. “She surely is not an inmate of Heath Hall?”

“No, no – of Katharine Hall. You must know her by sight, at least. A great, big, fat girl, with red hair and freckles.”

“Yes, now I remember. I think she has rather a pleasant face.”

“Oh, do you really? Isn’t she awfully common and vulgar-looking?”

“Common and vulgar-looking people are often pleasant, nevertheless,” retorted Maggie.

“You’ll come to her auction?” insisted Rose.

“I don’t know. She has no right to have an auction. Such a proceeding would give great displeasure to our Principals.”

“How can you tell that? There never was an auction at the college before.”

“How can I tell, Rose? Instinct is my guide in a matter of this sort.”

Maggie stepped back and looked haughty.

“Well,” said Rose, “the Principals won’t ever know; we are taking good care of that.”

“Oh! I hope you may be successful. Good-night.”

Maggie turned to walk away. She saw Priscilla standing not far off.

“Come, Prissie,” she said, affectionately, “you did admirably to-night, but you must have another lesson. You missed two of the best points in that last speech. Come back with me into the theatre at once.”

Rose bit her lips with vexation. She was wildly anxious to be at the auction. The sealskin might be put up for sale, and she not present. The corals might go to some other happy girl; but she had made a resolve to bring some of the very best girls in the college to this scene of rioting. Her reckless companions had dared her to do this, and she felt what she called “her honour” at stake. Nancy Banister had declined her invitation with decision; Constance Field had withered her with a look. Now she must secure Maggie.

“I wish you’d come,” she said, following Maggie and Prissie to the door of the theatre. “It will be an awful disappointment if you don’t! We all reckoned on having you.”

“What do you mean, Rose?”

“We thought you wouldn’t be above a bit of fun. You never used to be, you know. You never used to be strict and proper, and over-righteous, used you?” Priscilla was startled to see the queer change these few words made on Maggie. Her cheeks lost their roses; her eyes grew big, pathetic, miserable. Then a defiant expression filled them.

“If you put it in that way,” she said, “I’ll go and peep at the thing. It isn’t my taste, nor my style, but goodness knows I’m no better than the rest of you. Come, Prissie.”

Maggie seized Priscilla’s hand; her clasp was so tight as to be almost painful. She hurried Prissie along so fast that Rose could scarcely keep up with them.

They entered the hall. Maggie seized a hat for herself and another for Prissie from the hat-stand; then the three girls crossed the garden to Katharine Hall. A moment or two later they had reached the scene of the evening’s amusement.

Loud voices and laughter greeted them; they entered a large room crowded to overflowing. The atmosphere here was hot and stifling, and chaos reigned supreme. Pictures, ornaments of all kinds had been removed roughly and hastily from the walls; clothes, and even jewels, were piled on the tables, and a tall girl, standing on a chair, was declaiming volubly for the benefit of her companions. When Maggie, Rose, and Priscilla entered the room Polly was exhibiting the charms of a yellow silk dress somewhat the worse for wear. Laughter choked her voice; her bright blue eyes shone with excitement and amusement.

“Who’ll try this?” she began. “It has a double charm. Not only has it reposed round this fair and lovely form, but the silk of which it is made was given to me by my mother’s aunt, who had it from her mother before her. When I part with this, I part with a relic. Those who purchase it secure for themselves a piece of history. Who will buy, who will buy, who will buy? An historical dress going – such a bargain! Who, who will buy?”

“I’ll give you five shillings, Polly,” screamed a dark-eyed girl who stood near.

“Five shillings! This lovely dress going for five shillings!” proceeded Polly.

“And sixpence,” added another voice.

“This beautiful, historical robe going for five-and-sixpence,” said Miss Singleton, in her gay voice. “Oh, it’s a bargain – it’s dirt cheap! Who will buy? who will buy?”

The bids went up, and finally the yellow dress was knocked down to a rosy-faced country girl for the sum of thirteen shillings and ninepence.

Polly’s various other possessions were one by one brought to the hammer, some of them fetching fairly large sums, for they were most of them good and worth having, and there were wealthy girls at the college, who were not above securing a bargain when it came in their way.

At last the prize on which all Rose’s hopes were set was put up for sale. Polly’s magnificent sealskin jacket was held aloft, and displayed to the admiring and covetous gaze of many. Rose’s face brightened; an eager, greedy look filled her eyes. She actually trembled in her anxiety to secure this prize of prizes.

Maggie Oliphant, who was standing in a listless, indifferent attitude near the door, not taking the smallest part in the active proceedings which were going forward, was for the first time roused to interest by the expression on Rosalind’s face. She moved a step or two into the crowd, and when one or two timid bids were heard for the coveted treasure, she raised her own voice, and for the first time appeared eager to secure something for herself.

Rose bid against her, an angry flush filling her blue eyes as she did so. Maggie nonchalantly made her next bid a little higher – Rose raised hers. Soon they were the only two in the field; other girls had come to the limit of their purses, and withdrew vanquished from the struggle.

Rosalind’s face grew very white. Could she have knocked Maggie Oliphant down with a blow she would have done so at that moment. Maggie calmly and quietly continued her bids, raising them gradually higher and higher. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten pounds: Rose had come to the end of her resources. She stepped away with a bitter smile on her face. The sealskin jacket was Maggie Oliphant’s property for ten guineas.

Maggie laid it carelessly on a table near, and returning once more to her position near the door, watched the sale proceed. One by one Polly Singleton parted with her dresses, her pictures, her furniture. At last, opening a case, she proceeded to dispose of some trinkets, none of which, with the exception of the pink coral set, was of very high value. This, which consisted of necklace, bracelets, and earrings, and some pretty pins for the hair, was most eagerly coveted by many. Several girls bid for the coral, and Maggie, who had not raised her voice since she secured the sealskin jacket, once more noticed the greedy glitter in Rosalind’s eyes.

“I can’t help it,” she said, turning and speaking in a low voice to Priscilla, who stood by her side – “I can’t help it, Prissie; I don’t want that coral a bit – coral doesn’t suit me: I dislike it as an ornament. But something inside of me says Rose Merton shall not wear it. Stay here, Prissie, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Miss Oliphant moved forward; she was so tall that her head could be seen above those of most of the other girls.

The bids for the coral had now risen to three pounds ten. Maggie at one bound raised them ten shillings. Rose bid against her, and for a short time one or two other girls raised their previous offers. The price for the coral rose and rose. Soon a large sum was offered for it, and still the bids kept rising. Rosalind and Maggie were once more alone in the field, and now any onlooker could perceive that it was not the desire to obtain the pretty ornaments, but the wish for victory which animated both girls.

When the bids rose above ten guineas Rosalind’s face assumed a ghastly hue, but she was now far too angry with Maggie to pause or consider the fact that she was offering more money for the pink coral than she possessed in the world. The bids still went higher and higher. There was intense excitement in the room; all the noisy babel ceased. No sound was heard but the eager voices of the two who were cruelly fighting each other, and the astonished tones of the young auctioneer. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen pounds were reached. Maggie’s bid was fourteen pounds.

“Guineas!” screamed Rose, with a weak sort of gasp.

Maggie turned and looked at her, then walked slowly back to her place by Priscilla’s side.

The coral belonged to Rose Merton, and she had four guineas too little to pay for it.

Chapter Eighteen

A Black Self and a White Self

“It is quite true, Maggie,” said Nancy Banister. “It is about the auction. Yes, there is no doubt about that. What possessed you to go?”

Maggie Oliphant was standing in the centre of her own room with an open letter in her hand. Nancy was reading it over her shoulder: —

“Katharine Hall, —

“December 3.

“Miss Eccleston and Miss Heath request Miss Oliphant and Miss Peel to present themselves in Miss Eccleston’s private sitting-room this evening at seven o’clock.”

“That is all,” said Maggie. “It sounds as solemn and unfriendly as if one were about to be tried for some capital offence.”

“It’s the auction, of course,” repeated Nancy. “Those girls thought they had kept it so quiet; but someone must have ‘peached,’ I suppose, to curry favour. Whatever made you go, Maggie? You know you have never mixed yourself up with that Day, and Merton, and Marsh set. As to that poor Polly Singleton, there’s no harm in her, but she’s a perfect madcap. What could have possessed you to go?”

“My evil genius,” repeated Maggie, in a gloomy tone. “You don’t suppose I wished to be there, Nancy; but that horrid little Merton girl said something taunting, and then I forgot myself. Oh, dear, Nancy! what shall I ever do with that other self of mine? It will ruin me in the end. It gets stronger every day.”

Maggie sat down on the sofa. Nancy suddenly knelt by her side.

“Dear Meg,” she said, caressingly, “you’re the noblest, and the sweetest, and the most beautiful girl at St. Benet’s! Why can’t you live up to your true self?”

“There are two selfs in me,” replied Maggie. “And if one even approaches the faintest semblance of angelhood, the other is black as pitch. There, it only wastes time to talk the thing over. I’m in for the sort of scrape I hate most. See, Nancy, I bought this at the auction.”

She opened her wardrobe, and taking out Polly Singleton’s magnificent eighty-guinea sealskin jacket, slipped it on.

“Don’t I look superb?” said Maggie. She shut the wardrobe-door, and surveyed herself in its long glass. Brown was Maggie Oliphant’s colour. It harmonised with the soft tints of her delicately rounded face, with the rich colour in her hair, with the light in her eyes. It added to all these charms, softening them, giving to them a more perfect lustre.

“Oh, Maggie!” said Nancy, clasping her hands, “you ought always to be dressed as you are now.”

Maggie dropped her arms suddenly to her sides. The jacket, a little too large for her, slid off her shoulders, and lay in a heap on the floor.

“What?” she said, suddenly. “Am I never to show my true and real self? Am I always to be disguised in sham beauty and sham goodness? Oh, Nancy, Nancy! if there is a creature I hate – I hate– her name is Maggie Oliphant!”

Nancy picked up the sealskin jacket, and put it back into the wardrobe.

“I am sorry you went to the auction, Maggie,” she repeated, “and I’m more sorry still to find you bought poor Polly Singleton’s sealskin. Well, it’s done now, and we have to consider how to get you out of this scrape. There’s no time for you to indulge in that morbid talk of yours to-day, Maggie, darling. Let us consider what’s best to be done.”

“Nothing,” retorted Maggie. “I shall simply go to Miss Heath and Miss Eccleston, and tell them the truth. There’s nothing else to be done. No hope whatever of getting out of the affair. I went to Polly Singleton’s auction because Rosalind Merton raised the demon in me. I tried to become the possessor of the sealskin jacket because her heart was set on it. I won an eighty-guinea jacket for ten guineas. You see how ignoble my motives were, also how unworthy the results. I did worse even than that – for I will out with the truth to you, Nancy – I revenged myself still further upon that spiteful little gnat, Rosalind, and raised the price of her coveted coral to such an extent that I know by her face she is pounds in debt for it. Now, my dear, what have you to say to me? Nothing good, I know that. Let me read Aristotle for the next hour just to calm my mind.”

Maggie turned away, seated herself by her writing bureau, and tried to lose both the past and the present in her beloved Greek.

“She will do it, too,” whispered Nancy as she left the room. “No one ever was made quite like Maggie. She can feel tortures, and yet the next moment she can be in ecstasy. She is so tantalising that at times you are almost brought to believe her own stories about herself. You are almost sure that she has got the black self as well as the white self. But through it all, yes, through it all, you love her. Dear Maggie! Whatever happens, I must always – always love her.”

Nancy was walking slowly down the corridor when a room door was gently opened, and the sweet childish innocent face of Rosalind peeped out.

“Nancy, is that you? Do, for Heaven’s sake, come in and speak to me for a moment.”

“What about, Rosalind? I have only a minute or two to spare. My German lecture is to begin immediately.”

“Oh, what does that signify? You don’t know the awful trouble we’ve got into.”

“You mean about the auction?”

“Yes – yes; so you have heard?”

“Of course I’ve heard. If that is all, Rosalind, I cannot wait to discuss the matter now. I am very sorry for you, of course, but as I said to Maggie, why did you do it?”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to Miss Oliphant? Thank goodness she’ll have to answer for her sins as well as the rest of us.”

“Maggie is my friend, so you need not abuse her, Rosalind.”

“Lucky for her that she has got one true friend!” retorted Rosalind.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Maggie is making such a fool of herself that we are all laughing at her behind her back.”

“Indeed? I fail to understand you.”

“You are being made a fool of, too, Nancy. Oh, I did think you’d have had more sense.”

“How? Speak. Say at once what you want to say, Rosalind, and stop talking riddles, for I must fly to my work.”

“Fly, then,” retorted Rosalind, “only think twice before you give your confidence to a certain person. A person who makes a fine parade of poverty and so-called honesty of purpose, but who can, and who does, betray her kindest and best friend behind her back. It is my private belief we have to thank this virtuous being for getting us into the pleasant scrape we are in. I am convinced she has tried to curry favour by telling Miss Heath all about poor Polly’s auction.”

“You mean Priscilla Peel?” said Nancy, in a firm voice. She forgot her German lecture now. “You have no right to say words of that kind. You have taken a dislike to Prissie, no one knows why. She is not as interesting nor as beautiful as Maggie, but she is good, and you should respect her.”

Rosalind laughed bitterly.

“Good? Is she? Ask Mr Hammond. You say she is not beautiful nor interesting. Perhaps he finds her both. Ask him.”

“Rosalind, I shall tell Maggie what you say. This is not the first time you have hinted unkind things about Priscilla. It is better to sift a matter of this kind to the bottom than to hint it all over the college as you are doing Maggie shall take it in hand.”

“Let her! I shall only be too delighted! What a jolly time the saintly Priscilla will have.”

“I can’t stay any longer, Rosalind.”

“But, Nancy, just one moment. I want to put accounts right with Polly before to-night. Mother sent me ten pounds to buy something at the auction. The coral cost fourteen guineas. I have written to mother for the balance, and it may come by any post. Do lend it to me until it comes! Do, kind Nancy!”

“I have not got so much in the world, I have not really, Rosalind. Good-bye; my lecture will have begun.”

Nancy ran out of the room, and Miss Merton turned to survey ruefully her empty purse, and to read again a letter which had already arrived from her mother: —

“My Dear Rosalind —

“I have not the additional money to spare you, my poor child. The ten pounds which I weakly yielded at your first earnest request was, in reality, taken from the money which is to buy your sisters their winter dresses. I dare not encroach any further on it, or your father would certainly ask me why the girls were dressed so shabbily. Fourteen guineas for coral! You know, my dear child, we cannot afford this extravagance. My advice is to return it to your friend, and to ask her to let you have the ten guineas back. You might return it to me in a Postal Order, for I want it badly. It was one thing to struggle to let you have it in the hopes that you would secure a really valuable garment like a sealskin jacket, and another to give it to you for some rather useless ornaments.

“Your affectionate mother, —

“Alice Merton.”

Chapter Nineteen

In Miss Eccleston’s Sitting-Room

Miss Eccleston was a dark, heavy-looking person; she was not as attractive either in appearance or manner as Miss Heath. She was estimable, and the college authorities thought most highly of her, but her character possessed more hardness than softness, and she was not as popular with the girls and young lecturers who lived in Katharine Hall as was Miss Heath with her girls.

When Maggie entered Miss Eccleston’s sitting-room that evening, she found the room about half-full of eager, excited-looking girls. Miss Eccleston was standing up and speaking; Miss Heath was leaning against the wall; a velvet curtain made a background which brought out her massive and grand figure in full relief.

Miss Eccleston looked excited and angry; Miss Heath’s expression was a little perplexed, and a kind of sorrowful mirth brought smiles to her lips now and then, which she was most careful to suppress instantly.

As Maggie made her way to the front of the room she recognised several of the girls. Rosalind Merton, Annie Day, Lucy Marsh, were all present. She saw them, although they were standing hidden behind many other girls. Prissie, too, was there – she had squeezed herself into a corner. She looked awkward, plain, and wretched. She was clasping and unclasping her hands, and trying to subdue the nervous tremors which she could not conceal.

Maggie, as she walked across the room, singled Prissie out. She gave her a swift glance, a brilliant and affectionate smile, and then stood in such a position that neither Miss Eccleston nor Miss Heath could catch a glimpse of her.

Miss Eccleston, who had been speaking when Maggie entered the room, was now silent. She had a note-book in her hand, and was rapidly writing something in it with a pencil. Someone gave Maggie a rather severe prod on her elbow. Polly Singleton, tall, flushed, and heavy, stood close to her side.

“You’ll stand up for me, won’t you, Miss Oliphant?” whispered Polly.

Maggie raised her eyes, looked at the girl, who was even taller than herself, and began to reply in her usual voice.

“Silence,” said Miss Eccleston. She put down her note-book. “I wish for no conversation between you at the present moment, young ladies. Good-evening, Miss Oliphant; I am pleased to see you here. I shall have a few questions to ask you in a minute. Now, Miss Singleton, if you please, we will resume our conversation. You have confessed to the fact of the auction. I wish now to ascertain what your motive was.”

Poor Polly stammered and reddened, twisted her hands as badly as Prissie herself could have done, and looked to right and left of her in the most bewildered and unhappy manner.

“Don’t you hear me, Miss Singleton? I wish to know what your motive was in having an auction in Katharine Hall,” repeated Miss Eccleston.

“Tell her the truth,” whispered Maggie.

Polly, who was in a condition to catch even at a straw for support, said, falteringly —

“I had the auction in my room because of dad.” Miss Eccleston raised her brows. The amused smile of sorrow round Miss Heath’s mouth became more marked. She came forward a few steps, and stood near Miss Eccleston.

“You must explain yourself, Miss Singleton,” repeated the latter lady.

“Do tell everything,” said Maggie, again.

“Dad is about the only person I hate vexing,” began Polly once more. “He is awfully rich, but he hates me to get into debt, and – and – there was no other way to raise money. I couldn’t tell dad – I —couldn’t keep out of debt, so I had to sell my things.”

“You have made a very lame excuse, Miss Singleton,” said Miss Eccleston, after a pause. “You did something which was extremely irregular and improper. Your reason for doing it was even worse than the thing itself. You were in debt. The students of St. Benet’s are not expected to be in debt.”

“But there’s no rule against it,” suddenly interrupted Maggie.

“Hush! your turn to speak will come presently. You know, Miss Singleton – all the right-minded girls in this college know – that we deal in principles, not rules. Now, please go on with your story.”

Polly’s broken and confused narrative continued for the next five minutes. There were some titters from the girls behind her – even Miss Heath smiled faintly. Miss Eccleston alone remained grave and displeased.

“That will do,” she said at last. “You are a silly and rash girl, and your only possible defence is your desire to keep the knowledge of your extravagance from your father. Your love for him, however, has never taught you true nobility. Had you that even in the most shadowy degree, you would abstain from the things which he detests. He gives you an ample allowance. Were you a school-girl and I your mistress, I should punish you severely for your conduct.”

Miss Eccleston paused. Polly put her handkerchief up to her eyes and began to sob loudly.

“Miss Oliphant,” said Miss Eccleston, “will you please account for the fact that you, who are looked up to in this college, you who are one of our senior students, and for whom Miss Heath has a high regard, took part in the disgraceful scenes which occurred in Miss Singleton’s room on Monday evening?”

“I shall certainly tell you the truth,” retorted Maggie. She paused for a moment. Then, the colour flooding her cheeks, and her eyes looking straight before her, she began —

“I went to Miss Singleton’s room knowing that I was doing wrong. I hated to go, and did not take the smallest interest in the proceedings which were being enacted there.” She paused again. Her voice, which had been slightly faltering, grew a little firmer. Her eyes met Miss Heath’s, which were gazing at her in sorrowful and amazed surprise. Then she continued – “I did not go alone. I took another and perfectly innocent girl with me. She is a newcomer, and this is her first term. She would naturally be led by me, and I wish therefore to exonerate her completely. Her name is Priscilla Peel. She did not buy anything, and she hated being there even more than I did, but I took her hand and absolutely forced her to come with me.”

“Did you buy anything at the auction, Miss Oliphant?”

“Yes, a sealskin jacket.”

“Do you mind telling me what you paid for it?”

“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 candour 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 assembled before her.