DULL AND PROSY
It is to be hoped that those who read this story will not run off with the idea that I am trying to set Miss Preston’s school up as a model in every sense of the word, for I am not. I am simply trying to tell a story of boarding-school life as it really was “once upon a time.” And I think that I ought to be able to tell it pretty correctly, having seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears many of the pranks related. The methods followed and the results obtained may be believed or not; that rests with the individual reading. Long ago, in my own childhood days, our “old Virginy” cook used to say to me: “La, chile, dey’s a heap sight mo’ flies ketched wid ’lasses dan vingegar,” and I have come to the conclusion that she had truth on her side.
The girls were by no means saints. Saints, after all, are rather ethereal creatures, and Miss Preston’s girls were real flesh and blood lassies, brimful of life and fun, and, like most lassies, ready for a good time.
As Ruth had said, there were no rules; that is, the girls were never told that they must not do this, or that they must do the other thing. A spirit of courtesy dominated everything, and a subtle influence pervaded the entire school, bringing about desired results without words. The girls understood that all possible liberty would be granted them, and that their outgoings and incomings would be exactly such as would be allowed them in their own homes, and if some were inclined to abuse that liberty they soon learned where license began.
No school turned out better equipped girls, and none held a higher standard in college examinations. A Sunny Bank diploma was a sure passport. When the girls worked they worked hard, and when playtime came it was enjoyed to the full. Naturally, with so many dispositions surrounding her, Miss Preston often in secret floundered in a “slough of despond,” for that which could influence one girl for her good might prove a complete failure when brought to bear upon another. Never was the old adage, “What is one man’s meat is another man’s poison,” more truly illustrated.
But Miss Preston had a stanch friend, and trusted Him implicitly. Often, when perplexed and troubled, a half-hour’s quiet talk with Him close shut behind her own door would give her wisdom and strength for the baffling question, and when she again appeared among them the girls wondered at her serene expression and winning smile, for in that half-hour’s seclusion she had managed to remove all trace of the soil from the “slough,” and, refreshed and strengthened by an unfailing help, could resume her “Pilgrimage.”
She often said, in her quaint way: “The hardest work I have to do is to undo,” and that was very true. Many times the home influence was of the worst possible sort for a young girl, or else there was just none at all. Such girls were difficult subjects. Many had come from other schools, as in Toinette’s case, where distrust seemed to be the key-note of the establishment, and then came Miss Preston’s severest trials. The confidence of such girls must be won ere a step could be taken in the right direction. It was a rare exception when Miss Preston failed to win it.
“You feel such a nasty little bit of a crawling thing when you’ve done a mean thing to Miss Preston,” a girl once said. “If she’d only give you a first-class blowing up—for that’s just what you know you deserve all the time—you could stand it, but she never does. She just puts her arm around you and looks straight through you with those soft gray eyes of hers, and never says one word. Then you begin to shrivel up, and you keep right on shriveling till you feel like Alice in Wonderland. You can’t say boo, because she hasn’t, and when she gives you a soft little kiss on your forehead, and whispers so gently: Don’t try to talk about it now, dear; just go and lock yourself in your room and have a quiet think, and I’m sure the kink will straighten out. I could lie flat on the floor and let her dance a hornpipe on me if she wanted to.”
It was not to be expected that all the other teachers would display such remarkable tact as their principal, but her example went a long way. Moreover, she was very careful in the choice of those in whose care her girls were to be given, and often said: “Neither schools nor colleges make teachers: it is God first, and mothers afterward.” And she was not far wrong, for God must put love into the human heart, and mothers must shape the character. When I see a child playing with her dollies, I can form a pretty shrewd guess of the manner of woman that child’s mother is.
Frolics and pranks of all sorts were by no means unknown in the school, and often they were funny enough, but what Miss Preston did not know about those frolics was not worth knowing. Her instructions to her teachers were: “Don’t see too much. Unless there is danger of flood or fire, appendicitis or pneumonia, be blind.”
Many of the girls had their own ponies and carriages, and drove about the beautiful suburbs of Montcliff. If the boys chose to hop up behind a trap and drive along, too, where was the harm? The very fact that it need not be concealed made it a matter of course. Friday evenings were always ones of exceptional liberty. Callers of both sexes came, and the girls danced, had candy pulls, or any sort of impromptu fun. Once a year, usually in February, a dance was given, which was, of course, the event of the season.
During the week the girls kept early hours, and at nine-thirty the house was, as a rule, en route for the “Land o’ Nod,” but exceptions came to prove the rule, and nothing was more liable to cause one than the arrival of a box from home. Upon such occasions the “fire, flood, appendicitis and pneumonia” hint held good.