Peggy Stewart at School

by Gabrielle E. Jackson

In the ensuing weeks Peggy and Polly slipped very naturally into their places. In her own class and in the West Wing Natalie Vincent had always been the acknowledged leader, for, even though the daughter of the Principal, not the slightest partiality was ever shown her and she was obliged to conform as strictly to the rules as any girl in the school. She was full of fun, eternally in harmless mischief, and, of course, eternally being taken to task for her misdeeds.

By the usual order of the attraction of opposites Marjorie Terry and Natalie had formed a warm friendship. Marjorie the quiet, reserved, rather shrinking girl from Seattle. She never joined in any of Natalie's wild pranks, but on the other hand was a safe confidant, and if she could not follow her more spontaneous friend's lead, she certainly never balked or betrayed her. The other girls had christened them Positive and Negative and they certainly lived up to their names.

The girls whom Peggy and Polly had discussed so frankly the night after their arrival all roomed in the West Wing. Stella in her own large, handsome room, for her father was manager of an immense railroad system in the middle West. Rosalie Breeze and oh "cursed spite!" Isabel Boylston—"Is-a-bel," as she pronounced it,—roomed together and squabbled incessantly. At least, Rosalie did the squabbling, Is-a-bel affected the superior, self-righteous air which acted upon Rosalie's peppery temper as a red rag upon a bull. It was Miss Sturgis, of course, who had advised placing them together. Isabel was a great favorite of Miss Sturgis, and Rosalie was the reverse.

Mrs. Vincent had not entirely approved the arrangement, but the school was unusually crowded this year and two of the girls' parents had insisted upon single rooms for their daughters. Juno Gibson, from New York, had announced very positively that unless she could have a room to herself in Columbia Heights School she would pack her three trunks and go elsewhere, and Papa Gibson was not in the habit of disputing his daughter's will or wishes unless they conflicted with his own. In this matter he didn't care a straw, so Miss Juno was not compelled to have "a dozen girls eternally under foot and ruining my clothes by crowding the closets full of theirs."

Lily Pearl, "Tootsy-wootsy," as her companions had dubbed her, roomed with Helen Gwendolyn Doolittle, "Cutie," and a sweet, sentimental pair they made, though Helen spent every possible moment with the latest object of her adoration, Stella Drummond, for whom she had instantly conceived an overwhelming infatuation; a pronounced school-girl "crush."

Of the other girls in the school only a passing glimpse need be given.

Saturday afternoons were always perfectly free at Columbia Heights, and the girls could do practically as they chose. There was one rule, or rather the absence of it, which had appealed very strongly to Mrs. Harold and gone a long way toward biasing her choice in favor of the school. If the girls wished to go into the city—that is, the girls in the Sophomore, Junior and Senior grades—to do shopping or make calls, they were entirely at liberty to do so unattended by a teacher, though Mrs. Vincent must, of course, know where they were going. With very rare exceptions this rule had always worked to perfection. The very fact that they might do as they chose, and were put upon their honor to uphold the reputation and dignity of the school, usually acted as an incentive to them to do so, whereas the eternal surveillance and suspicion of the average school acts as a mighty inspiration to circumvent all regulations.

Another pleasant feature of Saturday afternoons were the long riding excursions through the beautiful surrounding country, with a groom accompanying the party and with one of the girls acting as riding mistress. Besides Peggy and Polly, Stella was the only girl who had her own horse at Columbia Heights, the others riding those provided by the school. They were good horses and the riding-master, Albert Dawson, was supposed to be a good man, conscientious, painstaking, careful. He was conventional to a degree. He taught the English seat, the English rise, the English gait, and his horses were all docked and hogged in the English fashion. Dawson would doubtless have taught them to drop their H's as he himself did, had he been able to do so.

When Shashai and Silver Star arrived upon the scene, manes and forelocks long and silky as a girl's hair, tails almost sweeping the ground and flowing free, poor Dawson nearly died of outraged conventions, though he was forced to admit that the Columbia Heights stables held no horseflesh to compare with these thoroughbreds.

"But oh, my 'eart, look at that mess o' 'air and mind their paces. They lopes along for all the world like them blooming little jackals we used to 'ave bout in Hindia when I was in 'is Lordship's service. They'd ruin my reputation if they was to be seen in the Row," he deplored to Jess, who was grooming his pets as carefully as old Mammy would have brushed Peggy's hair.