Many times in her life would her Indian knowledge of the woods save her in emergencies of this sort, so in another moment she remembered that an Indian never runs away from his pursuer, but hides until his enemy has passed. Behind a low clump of laurel bushes the girl hid herself, crouching low and expecting each instant to see a tramp or an armed gamekeeper, whose business it was to keep intruders out of private property, savagely on the lookout for her.
Her pursuer did come on without hesitation and finally arrived just opposite Olive’s hiding place, but then it was the girl in hiding who suddenly sprang to her feet, startling the newcomer. For the enemy she had so dreaded was only another girl like herself with a smile on her face and a bundle of books under her arm. She was ten years older perhaps, yet she looked not unlike Jacqueline Ralston before her illness; her eyes were blue instead of gray, but she had the same bright bronze hair and firm line to her chin and the same proud way of holding up her head.
“Who or what are you?” she asked Olive, “a wood nymph living in this underbrush, for your clothes are of so nearly the same color that I did not see you at first.”
Olive, who was wearing a dark olive-green coat suit and a tam-o’-shanter of velvet of the same shade, shook her head. “I am one of the new girls from Primrose Hall and I have been out for a walk, but as I am not very familiar with these woods, I am not just sure where I am. Would you mind—” Her request came to an abrupt end because of the expression of surprise and disapproval on the older girl’s face.
“A student from Primrose Hall and outdoors alone at this hour of the morning! How on earth did Miss Winthrop happen to give you permission?” she asked in the positive fashion that Olive was to learn to know so well later on.
The first consciousness of possible wrong-doing now swept over the truant. Could it be that in taking a walk without asking permission she had broken a rule of her new school? The idea seemed ridiculous to Olive, and yet—were not all things different than in the old days? “I am so sorry, but no one gave me permission to take a walk. Was it necessary to ask?” she inquired. “You see, we only arrived at Primrose Hall yesterday and we—I—why, we often stay out hours before breakfast at home, riding over the plains!”
Olive’s innocence of offense and her distress were so plain to the older girl that straightway she slipped her arm through hers and without delay hurried her along toward school, talking as she went.
“I am Jessica Hunt, the teacher of English and elocution at Primrose Hall, and I have been spending the night with some friends.” Jessica gave a reassuring pressure to the hand in hers. “You must not be frightened, child, if Miss Winthrop seems rather terrifying on your return. I used to be a pupil at Primrose Hall before I started in with the teaching and I’m really very fond of her. Miss Winthrop isn’t so severe as she looks, but I expect I had better tell you that it is after breakfast time now and, as the school girls are never allowed to go out alone and never without permission, why she may scold you a bit.”
If only she might at this moment have dropped down in the path to weep like a naughty child about to be punished for a fault, Olive would have felt it a great relief, and only the thought of her age prevented her doing this. Could she ever live through the embarrassment of facing fifty strange girls, more than half a dozen teachers and Miss Winthrop while she was being reprimanded. Why, yesterday just on being introduced to Miss Winthrop, with Ruth and Jean and Frieda with her for protection, had she not felt as tongue-tied and frightened as a silly baby? And now must she face this stern woman alone and under the shadow of her displeasure?
Never as long as she lived (and the circumstances of Olive Ralston’s life were always unusual and romantic) would she ever forget the next half hour’s experience at Primrose Hall, nor the appearance of the great hall as she entered it, with girls and teachers grouped about, and towering above everything and everybody, the tall, commanding presence of its principal, Miss Katherine Winthrop.