Gloria Doane really felt defiant. Boarding school always represented restrictions to her inexperienced reasoning, and restrictions were never a part of her chosen schedule. A sense of freedom was necessary to her happiness.
At her Barbend home she scarcely respected the wildest coast storm, and often thought it a lark to help life guards shoot out their boats or rig up a buoy. But last year Gloria was “due” to go to this exclusive school and she had not done so. In fact, circumstances wove such a net about her that the meshes represented a most unusual story, told in the first volume of this series called, “Gloria: A Girl and Her Dad.” But now the net was flattened out, stretched to dry on regulation lines, and Gloria had emerged like a fairy mermaid, changed back to an earth maiden, and was doing such ordinary things as going to boarding school.
All this she pondered as voices roused her and a step near her door threatened invasion.
“Trixy!” she called lightly. The step halted.
“Did you get your trunk? It’s downstairs and you will want to change your dress before dinner, or maybe it’s supper,” surmised Trixy Travers, the girl from Sandford, who decided to come to Altmount because Gloria begged her to do so. Trixy was quite as fond of freedom as was Gloria, so, ultimately, they both decided “it wouldn’t kill them to try it for a year.” And there they were, ready to put the test to their resolve.
“Trunks,” murmured Gloria, indifferently. “I saw one that looked like mine——”
“In the first hall? Get that bean pole they call Sam, to lug it up for you before the others come in. Then we can dress in our prettiest and flabbergast the crowd.” A pulled face, quite unlike Trixy’s usual countenance, put a period to this threat.
“Brilliant idea. I’ll go straight for the bean pole. Just hook up that gorgeous drapery and our rooms will constitute a suite. So glad we are together. If you were down the hall I’d surely sit on your door mat like a faithful poodle. I just couldn’t risk trying out this exciting life without the protection and guidance of your wisdom. I noticed Miss Alton herself paused in a speech as you towered over her.”
“Glo, get your duds; you’ll feel better when you are out of those dusty things,” interrupted Trixy. “I’ll go down to that cute little room where Miss Alton holds court, and see about a telephone to mother. She will want to know we got here safely.”
The next item of note was the entrance of the bean pole, Sam, bearing a shiny new trunk.