As if in memory of cool places, Sidney drew her light scarf closer around her shoulders. But the breeze from Lake Michigan’s waters was blowing more strongly just now.
“To change the subject, Sidney,” said Fleta Race, “what plans have you for the Double Three this year, and what must we have in senior doings? How about the elections and everything? What’s our play going to be and how are we going to work it diplomatically with you know whom, to have what we really want instead of working at something we’ll hate?”
Sidney smiled a little, though she was annoyed. It was like Fleta to blurt everything out, she thought. She dropped her eyes, playing with the end of her gay scarf. “Why ask me, Fleta?” she asked.
“Because you have the most influence of anybody in school, and because you are the president of the Double Three,” Fleta replied. “I’m sure that you have some little ideas. What’s been floating around in the little old brain this summer while you have been climbing and sailing and swimming and everything?”
“Don’t push our president, Fleta,” gently said Edith, who sat next to Sidney. She tapped Sidney’s proud little shoulder with a soft finger as she continued. “Of course, Sidney has ideas, but let her have a chance to work them out. If she has any plans she will tell us fast enough. This isn’t a formal meeting anyhow. It just happened.”
Edith’s remarks made Sidney feel in a more responsive mood. Fleta’s compliment, too, was not unacceptable. She had no objection to an addition to the idea, either, and said in a low tone, as if some listening spirit might be near, “What do you think, girls,—the dean spoke to me about Miss Gibson this morning. I was talking to her about several things and she said, ‘By the way, Sidney, I noticed that a number of the girls were making it hard for Miss Gibson last year. I wish that you would use your influence among them. Your scholarship is uniformly so high and your courtesy is always so irreproachable that I am sure you will want to help Miss Gibson. She was new last year, you will remember, but her knowledge and standing are such that I expect loyalty from my girls!’
“Excuse my repeating a compliment to myself, girls, but I just had to say the whole speech as she said it. Moreover, was it so much of a compliment as trying to get me to do something? I did not tell her that I detested Miss Gibson, of course, and it wasn’t the time to tell her how autocratic and disagreeable Miss Gibson is. Indeed, there were people waiting to see the dean. All that I said in reply to the dean was, ‘Yes, Miss Irving,’ though I looked attentive, and inquiring, at the proper places. Why should I tell the dean what I was thinking? Most certainly none of us intend to do any thing that is not in good form, like a few of the girls. You remember what happened in the junior English last year that time. At the same time, I do not think that they should have retained a teacher who is so objectionable to many of the best girls.”
Sidney Thorne naturally included herself and her companions among the “best girls” of the school, as she spoke in her most dignified way, with careful choice of words. If Sidney ever fell into the modern carelessness of school girl speech, it was not because she had not been trained from childhood in the best English, chiefly from having always heard it from her parents.
“I got a good deal out of my work with Miss Gibson last year, Sidney,” said a girl who had not spoken during these interchanges, though she had joined in smiles or laughter. She was not a particularly pretty girl, but had a pleasing face, one of high intelligence. A pleasant mouth and a firm, though not prominent chin, clear blue eyes, a nose as straight as Sidney’s and a broad brow, such of it as could be seen, presented a wholesome combination. Some day, when Hope Holland cared a little more about her looks, she would make a handsome young woman, but at present she was far more interested in other things. Today she wore the simplest of dark blue georgette dresses over a dark slip. Not a ring, a pin or a string of beads decorated her. Her small hands were clasped around her knees, as her heels went back under the bench to a cross bar there. Her silk hose were black and her shoes, while neat, were not as new as those of the other girls. Hope could have had them, but had not bothered.
The rest of the girls wore light dresses, with all the pretty accompaniments, though these were all in good taste and surely not out of style. No girl who had been at least a year in this school was ever seen to be over-dressed, for with the lessons from books, other lessons were taught about the fine arts of living. Whatever their private tastes, and it would be odd if no girl ever attended the school whose personal ideas were different, while here the atmosphere prevailed and had its present and often permanent influence.