"Oh!" breathed Tabitha, recalling with alarm Miss Pomeroy's words on the stairs. "Do they ever send them away after they have begun school here?"
"I—don't—know. Why, yes, sometimes. There was a girl here last year who cheated and took things that didn't belong to her and was real saucy to the teachers; and when she went home at Christmas time she never came back. She told us that she didn't want to, but I think Miss Pomeroy wouldn't let her. There goes the signal for assembly. We always meet just after tea each evening for chapel services."
"Chapel services?"
"Yes. We sing a hymn or two and listen to a short talk from one of the teachers before going up to our rooms for study. Likely Miss Pomeroy will speak tonight, as this is the first evening. Sit anywhere you wish. Here's a hymn-book."
Tabitha accepted the book, slipped into a vacant seat in the corner, and marvelled at the sudden hush that fell over the noisy throng as the silvery-haired principal arose to address them. This wise lady was not given to sermonizing, but talked in a confidential, motherly fashion, telling them of her hopes and expectations for the school year lying before them, explaining the few rules it had been found necessary to lay down for the governing of so many active little bodies, and filling each girlish heart with inspiration and a desire to win this dear woman's approval.
"It is not our aim to make our school a prison," said the sweet voice to the attentive throng, drinking in every word. "We want our girls to be happy and light-hearted and gay; we hope to fill every hour with sunshine and music and laughter. We are anxious that each one of you shall love Ivy Hall with your whole heart—not merely because of the merry days you enjoyed inside its walls, but because of the lasting help you shall have gained here, for we are gathered under this roof to study, you know, and not to idle away the golden hours, but you will find there are many lessons to be learned in boarding school that are not contained in books. You are all away from home and its influences, many of you for the first time in all your lives; and it is the duty of this little band of teachers to train and instruct the minds and bodies intrusted to our care. This is a pleasant task for us, and we shall do our best for each individual girl, but in return we shall expect you to do your best for us.
"Our lives are like gardens; our faults are the weeds, our good traits the flowers, and we are the gardeners. If we are careless and do not try to overcome the faults, they flourish and grow stronger each year, and in the end will choke out all the flowers. While if we honestly seek to cultivate the good qualities we all possess, and to weed out the unworthy acts and thoughts, our gardens will grow beautiful and will be a pleasure to all our friends, as well as to ourselves. I hope my girls will all try to root out the weeds in your lives—the hot tempers"—Tabitha thought the kindly eyes looked straight at her as these words were spoken—"thoughtless words, selfish habits, envy, jealousy, and the countless other things that make so many lives unhappy. Cultivate kind thoughts, gentle words, good deeds, unselfishness and sunny dispositions. Don't let bickerings or harsh speeches or unkind acts mar the spirit of harmony we want in our school. Take for your motto the Golden Rule, and treat all your companions as you would like them to treat you. Be the best girl you know how to be."
From her corner of the room Tabitha sat glowering at Chrystobel opposite, trying to absorb the teacher's helpful words, while in her heart she was blaming her room-mate for the scene of the previous hour, and wondering how she could get even with the enemy. Chrystobel returned the sour looks with interest, even making a wry face occasionally behind her hand when Miss Pomeroy chanced to be looking in the other direction, for this spoiled maid was equally as sure that Tabitha was the sole cause of the disturbance.
But when the girls were all in bed that night, the lights turned out and the great building silent, Tabitha's anger abated, Miss Pomeroy's words kept repeating themselves in her mind, Jessie's unconscious warning filled her with uneasiness, gentle Mrs. Vane's motherly lectures came back to haunt her, and Mr. Carson's advice of long ago suddenly sprang into memory and would not let her rest. When she closed her eyes they rose before her inner vision in such a provoking fashion that sleep refused to come to soothe the tired, aching body.
"I have been hateful and horrid," sighed the weary girl at last, giving up the struggle and facing the accusing conscience. "No one will like me if I behave like that. I promised Mrs. Vane to be good and just see what a beginning I have made! A scolding already and I haven't been here a day. Oh, dear! Chrystobel was selfish, but maybe if I had been good, she would have given up that drawer and the hooks without any fuss. I acted like a perfect—cat! Because she was selfish and—mean, yes, I think she was mean—that was no reason for my being hateful. Oh, it is such hard work to be good! I wonder if it will ever be any easier. Carrie doesn't seem to have any trouble that way at all, and her room-mate is a spoiled darling, too. If she can put up with Cassandra, I ought to be able to deal with Chrystobel. I suppose—I—ought to—tell her I am sorry. I hate to think of doing such a thing, for maybe she will be a—cat. Perhaps I needn't tell her, but just explain to Miss Pomeroy how bad I feel to think I made such a scene—no, I didn't fight with Miss Pomeroy, and apologizing to her won't make Chrystobel feel any better toward me. Oh, dear, I suppose I must do it! Well, here goes—I've got the shivers clear to my toe-tips already, thinking of what she may say. Chrystobel!"