Ann Crosses a Secret Trail Read online

  CHAPTER XII

  THE SCRIBBLERS’ CLUB ORGANIZES

  The box which Mrs. Sterling had sent to Ann was full of fruit, withsome other things which the girls could enjoy after Mrs. Sterling hadgone. The janitor of the Castle opened it for Ann and the fruit wasseparated, to be put in one of the closets as the coolest place; forthe rooms were kept comfortably heated. But Ann did not investigate theother packages while her mother remained, for there was much going on,and Ann read her French to her mother, a pleasant way of studying it.Mrs. Sterling made a fine French dictionary, Ann said, for all but sometechnical terms which she had forgotten. At Mrs. Sterling’s bidding,Ann also studied her other lessons on Friday evening, looking up oncein a while to “gloat” over her mother’s being there, and expressing herfeelings in that fashion.

  “I shall never be able to complain about not being appreciated, Ann,”said her mother.

  “Indeed not, and wait till poor Dad arrives! He is just merely existingtill Christmas, I know.”

  The girls, at Miss Tudor’s suggestion, hastily put together a littleentertainment for Saturday night. There were some other visitors forthe Thanksgiving week end, for whom the girls wanted to do something.Among so many organizations it was not hard to find something to do.One of the senior girls had written a clever one act play for herEnglish class. To be sure it must be committed by the actors in recordtime, but what could not be remembered in the way of the speeches couldbe what the girls called “faked,” by bright girls who knew the point oftheir remarks. It had been done before and this was not Shakespeare,whose lines must be just right!

  Aline rushed in Saturday morning to call for Ann’s help. “Ann, _would_your mother mind if you play for the orchestra? We’ve simply got tohave you. Our regular pianist, you know, is away, also the substitute,and there isn’t a girl who can do it as you can!”

  “Do not hesitate on my account, Ann,” promptly said Mrs. Sterling. “Ishall be glad to have you help.”

  “All right, then, Aline,” Ann promised. “I am only too thankful not tobe called on to help with the play. Thank fortune there are plenty ofgirls for that.”

  “Don’t be too sure, Ann,” joked Aline. “I’ll remember you if they needany one!”

  “Just remember, too, please,” laughed Ann, “that I could scarcely bein the orchestra and on the platform at the same time.”

  “Will you mind, Mother?” Ann asked after Aline had gone.

  “Not a bit. To tell the truth, Ann, I enjoy all this. We used to do allsorts of things when I was in school. I remember the fun and excitementof it all. It was different in those days, but this takes me back topleasant memories. Then, too, these girls are so attractive and do suchclever things that I expect to enjoy the whole thing thoroughly.”

  “I think that it is Jane Price who has written the play, and if it is,it will be too funny for words! Jane is a dear, though, and very smart!”

  “Will you have anything but the play?”

  “Yes; Dots showed me the program when I was around there. She isthe sophomore on the committee. First there will be an orchestralnumber,--ahem! They will probably choose something hard for me to play.Then the glee club will sing. Next comes the play, and we shall play an‘overture.’ The girls want us to ‘jazz’ one of the real overtures tolight opera if we can, and we are to play appropriately during part ofthe play it seems.”

  “Soft suggestions in music,” inserted Mrs. Sterling.

  “That is it,” said Ann. “We burst into melody between scenes, too, andthe Glee Club will sing again, and I think that Aline is to have aviolin solo. If we can get one of the senior girls to sing, she has alovely thing, with orchestral accompaniment, from one of the operas.But she has a cold and we don’t know whether she will be equal to itor not. There will be plenty to fill in with, I’m sure. And we’ll alldress up in our spuzziest clothes. You will think that you are in theMetropolitan, I know!”

  “I expect to enjoy it as much,” laughed Mrs. Sterling.

  “Now I wonder how she means that,” said Ann, looking off into space, atwinkle in her eyes. “With all the practicing, I’m afraid that I shallhave to leave you a good deal to-day, Mother.”

  “I will finish fixing up your clothes, child. Then I want to talkwith Miss Tudor about arranging for your studies, in case we do takeyou with us to Florida. I feel sure that if your father goes, he willrefuse to go without you.”

  “Good for Dad! But what a change from the stern mentor who says thatlessons must go on!”

  “If you stay for any length of time, your lessons will go on. If youare there only a short time, however, we are to let you get the benefitof the Florida experience.”

  “Well, that is pretty nice for me. I supposed that you and Father wouldhave our part of the affair thought out.”

  “Yes,--as usual. What Aunt Sue’s family does remains to be seen. But wehave not been discussing that lately. I think that it will all turnout for the best.”

  “Bless your heart, Mother, you always say that!”

  “And doesn’t it?”

  “Certainly, but it takes some ‘turning,’ on our part.”

  “Of course it does. ‘Even so faith apart from works is dead.’ What Ishould have done, Ann, instead of worrying myself sick, during thoseyears, was to go to Mother and have everything explained. Instead, Iwaited for my dear daughter to show me what could be accomplished inthe line of ‘works.’”

  Surprised and pleased by her mother’s appreciation of her efforts andsuccess in uncovering the reasons for Grandmother’s misunderstanding,Ann was rendered speechless for a moment. “Why, aren’t you nice,Mother, to say this to me?” she finally said. “And aren’t we having agood visit?”

  “_I_ am. Come here and give me a good hug and then run off to yourpracticing!”

  * * * * *

  All too soon the Thanksgiving vacation ended. The absent girls cameback; the places at table were all full again; Ann’s mother went home;Suzanne, who was unable to persuade her mother to a longer visit,appeared with the rest of the girls, and, for a wonder, in the bestof spirits. In a few days lessons and school work had assumed theirproper place and everything was in full swing. Only the weather wasdepressing. It had turned a little warmer, with rain, which melted thesnow into a miserable slush. This was immediately cleaned from thewalks, but not without an interval during which careless girls withoutovershoes acquired wet feet and sore throats. Ann, sad to say, wasamong these. She escaped tonsilitis and going to the little hospitalwhich was full for a few days; but she gargled and took medicine andhad her throat swabbed, to her great disgust. One week end she spent agreat part of her time in bed and had her meals sent over.

  “You never are sorry enough for people that are sick, Marta,” shephilosophized one evening, when she was sitting in her bath robe bytheir table studying. “Not until you are sick yourself. And then, assoon as you are well, you forget it! I don’t think much of human naturemyself.”

  “Neither do I,” Marta agreed.

  “Still, you do find out how many friends you have, and how kind peoplecan be. Maybe human nature isn’t so bad after all.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” said Marta.

  “Marta Ward! You would agree with anything! I believe that you don’tknow what I’m talking about!”

  Marta looked at her dreamily, raising her eyes from her book.“Something about human nature, wasn’t it?”

  Ann threw back her head and laughed. “Never mind. You wanted to bepolite, but your room-mate would persist in talking about her ownexperiences while you were studying. Now you will never know the wisephilosophy you have missed. Go on back, Marta. Where were you?”

  “In London,” said Marta, who was reading history.

  “It’s almost time for the bell. Let’s investigate the packages in thatbox when you get through with your history. I don’t know what I wouldhave done without those oranges while I was sick. They were all Iwanted.”

  “Let me finish
this chapter, Ann. Then we’ll drag out the box.”

  Ann, who was through with lessons, or all that she felt equal to doing,threw her tired head back against the rocking chair in which shesat and closed her eyes. She knew now how girls felt when they werenot strong, and she wondered if she had ever really appreciated herhealth. She was feeling well now, except for a little weakness and a“scratchy” throat. She opened her eyes a little to look at Marta, whowas concentrating on that last chapter of her lesson. Her blue eyeswere glued to the page of the book, which she held in one of the stronghands that could do so much with the piano keys.

  Finally Marta closed the book with a bang and laid it on the table.“There!” she exclaimed. “I guess that is in my cranium, long enough torecite it at least. I never _could_ remember history!” She ran herfingers through her already much ruffled brown locks. “Have an orange,Ann?”

  “Thanks, Marta; I can wait on myself now, though. If you are ever sick,Marta, I’ll show my gratitude!”

  “I shall not get sick for the benefit of your gratitude, Miss Sterling.”

  “I hope not, Marta. I’ll have to show it in some other way.”

  “Haven’t I eaten as many oranges as you, besides all the good dessertsthat they sent and you couldn’t eat?”

  “I don’t know about that, Marta.”

  “But I do. Please ‘say no more’ about gratitude. But, Ann, there is toomuch in this box to drag it out without spoiling the floor or the rugor something.” Marta was in one of the closets now.

  “All right,--we’ll investigate, then.”

  Ann rose and joined her room-mate, who was ready to “stagger out,” asshe said, with an arm full of bundles. “I didn’t realize myself thatthere was so much. Mother said that she put in some sugar for fudge andsome other things.”

  The bell was ringing for the close of study hours as the girls piledthe bundles on the table and searched, through the papers and othermaterial with which the articles had been packed, for any otherpackages. And still those “dulcet sounds” filled the air when a seriesof knocks came at their door, beating a tattoo which stopped at Ann’s,“Come right in.”

  Their guests proved to be Eleanor and Aline, now as frequent visitorsas any of the Jolly Six. “What in the world?” inquired Eleanor, as sheviewed the table covered with packages.

  “That is just what we are saying,” said Ann. “We took a notion to findout what else was in the box that mother brought, or had sent, rather.She said that there was some sugar for fudge, and if all that is sugarwe’ll have enough for the rest of the year, I take it.”

  “Those big square packages are sugar, I suspect,” said Marta, “but thatis all. Why so much conjecture? Let’s open up. Sit down, ladies, andmake yourselves at home. I strongly suspect, from the feel thereof,that _this_ big package contains nuts.”

  Eleanor and Aline sat down in the chairs that Marta and Ann had vacatedand watched while the packages were opened.

  “Nuts they are,” said Ann, untying the large paper sack. “Georgia papershell pecans! Yum-yum!”

  A large paper box, opened, disclosed English walnuts, almonds, filbertsand Brazil nuts, and a flat package within contained a nut-cracker andnut picks. These Ann immediately passed around and offered both box andpaper sack to the guests.

  “Wait till I pass around the silver dishes, Ann,” warned Marta. “Theywill have to hold the nuts in something, for the shells at least.”Hastily Marta selected clean papers, from those which had been used inpacking, and handed them, as the “silver dishes,” to the guests. “Wehave some plates in the closet somewhere,” she said, “but I am surethat they are dusty from disuse.”

  “We haven’t had a feast for some time, have we?” queried Eleanor,cracking a huge pecan.

  “Scarcely since you girls were all rushing for the sororities and theOwls.” This was Aline, who remembered several delicious feasts at thatgay time.

  “That makes me think of what I came to see you about, girls,” saidEleanor. “Ann, how would you like to be a famous authoress?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, Eleanor,” said Ann, who was strugglingwith a refractory cork in a bottle of olives, contents of anotherinteresting package. One more tug and it was out. Ann flew to thelavatory to get rid of the liquid and was back to answer Eleanor’squestion.

  “Have an olive, Eleanor. No, I confess I hadn’t thought of entering thefield of literature. But no telling what any of us may do under Bunny’straining. I’ll try ’most anything, Eleanor, to become famous. What isthe immediate danger?”

  “Joining the Scribblers’ Club. Ever heard of such a thing?”

  “No; not at Forest Hill.”

  “There isn’t any; but I thought that we might organize one. Honestly,Ann, I’d like to have one. Scribbling is the only thing outside ofsinging that I really like to do.”

  “You do write fine themes, Eleanor. I was quite envious when Bunny hadyou read the last one and praised it so before the class.”

  “You never have any reason to be envious, Ann. That is one reason thatI thought you would be a good one to start it. Getting praised forwhat I’ve written, though, is what started me to liking composition, Iguess. Nothing like a little encouragement once in a while, is there?”

  “No,--yes--what is the right answer to that? And it’s precious littleencouragement that Bunny ever gives. She never praised anything ofmine.”

  “She probably thought that I needed it.”

  “No, Eleanor. That theme deserved it.”

  “And I never wrote anything so quickly. I liked the subject andhappened to know something about it. I wrote it right off, just in theorder that came to me, and then, boiled it down and corrected it andcopied it. Well, what do you say, girls, do we have a scribblers’ clubor don’t we?”

  “With the Owls and the Bats,” said Marta dubiously, “I don’t see that Ihave much more time for outside things.”

  “But you take English, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Eleanor; I have several studies this year outside of my music.”

  “Very well, then. If you’d like to belong, you can offer anything thatyou have ever written for English. Those things go for the Owls, andthe Scribblers’ Club, too. I’ll tell you more about our plans when--andif--we organize.”

  Ann was doing some quick thinking. It would be an encouraging thingfor Eleanor, who was taking a new interest in her work, if this wentthrough. It would also be good for any one who took part. If the thingsone had to write in class could be used, well and good.

  “I’ll join, Eleanor,” said Ann, “if you will be content with my feebleefforts in the literary line. Suppose we have the organization heretomorrow some time. I’ll make some nut fudge to celebrate, or we canhave whatever else there is here.” Ann, who had stopped unwrapping toeat nuts, now investigated a heavy rectangular package. “Hurrah! Boxesof sardines! Imagine, _Mother_! But Mother is thinking of the days ofher youth!”

  “I’ll bring the bread, Ann,” Eleanor offered, “and we’ll havesandwiches.”

  “Butter, also, is necessary,” Aline reminded Eleanor, who added that toher charge.

  “You have some baker’s chocolate there, Ann,” said Marta, pointing towhere torn paper revealed the edges of several cakes. “I will sacrificemyself to the occasion and make chocolate for the crowd. What is thehour, Eleanor?”

  “I’m free after my practice hour, which ends at three.”

  “I have a last hour class,” said Ann.

  “Say four o’clock, then. We are always starved at that hour and nevercan wait for dinner. Let me take the sardines, then, Ann, and I’ll havethe sandwiches made by the time you come from class. It won’t take longto make the fudge and chocolate.”

  “All right, Eleanor.” Ann handed over the boxes of sardines, whileMarta, who would be at the suite before Ann, said that she would havethe fudge made without waiting for her.

  “Then we’ll all be here at four sharp, or as near to that as possible?”queried Eleanor.

  �
��Oh, yes, Eleanor,” called Marta, “how many shall we prepare for?”

  “Six or eight, I think.”

  * * * * *

  On the following afternoon, Ann was delighted when her teacherdismissed the last class a little early. She hurried to the Castle andher suite, where she found Marta busy, having the fudge done and thematerials for the chocolate ready. “I’ll go to make that while you aretalking over everything,” said Marta. “Eleanor has made a dandy lot ofsandwiches. She got some cold boiled ham, too, for some, and I madea few peanut butter sandwiches out of that jar that we found in thebox. If you will crack a dish of nuts, I think that the feast will becomplete.”

  “I wish that there were some of those grapes left.”

  “They would not have kept, even if we had not eaten them.”

  Scarcely had Marta said this when with a warning rap, Aline appearedbearing a china dish heaped with white and red grapes. This shedeposited upon the table and sat down to help Ann with the nuts; forthere were both the nut-cracker and the little hammer that accompaniedthe wooden nut bowl in which Ann was putting the nuts.

  “The organization of the Scribblers’ Club,” said Aline, “will be quiteeclipsed by the celebration.”

  “We shall be able to give our minds to it much better for not beingstarved,” said Ann. “Don’t those grapes look delicious! Where didEleanor get them?”

  “She ordered the things sent out, bread and butter and ham and grapes.”

  “Let’s make her the president of it.”

  “She ought to be. She has splendid ideas for it. I saw her a littlewhile at noon.”

  “Here they come!” Ann rose, looked around to see that there were enoughchairs and that the cushions were properly beautiful upon the couch.From the hall came sounds of talking and laughter from several girlswho were approaching the suite. Marta threw open the door as theyreached it, saying, “Welcome to the Sterling-Ward.”

  “Sterling ward, indeed?” queried Jane Price, senior, who was in thelead. “Is this where they welcome the insane followers of the pen?”

  “No,” said Ann, “this is the convalescent ward, where they serve allthe delicacies of the season.”

  There were several more girls than Ann had thought might come. It wasevident, then, that Eleanor had been able to interest the older girls.Having borrowed chairs from the other Jolly Six suite, there wereplaces for all to sit, and they settled down with gay chat as usual.

  “This looks more like a spread,” said Jane, “than the literaryatmosphere we were led to expect.”

  “Our guests this afternoon, supply the literary atmosphere,” Annreplied, bowing to Jane in mock dignity, her hand on her heart. Ann hadgrown well acquainted with Jane in sorority affairs this year.

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” laughed Jane, looking around the circle.

  Katherine Neville was the only one of the other Jolly Six suitepresent. Eleanor and Aline represented their suite, making fivesophomores in all. Jane Price and a bright “Sig-Ep,” called BettyHoward, were seniors whom Eleanor had interested, and two juniors, AlysLittle and Natalie Perkins completed the number.

  It is curious how little girls think of some of the enterprises whichthey launch, and yet, of how much influence upon them they often proveto exert, either as organizations, or because of the friendships formedin them. This new Scribblers’ Club was to become quite an importantpart of Ann Sterling’s school life, existing apart from any social tieslike those of the sororities, and based upon ability, in its functions.

  “If you girls think that business matters can proceed just as well,”said Ann, “I think that we are all quite ready for a little lunch totide us over that barren period between classes and dinner.” Ann stoodby the table and looked around inquiringly, to find out how the girlsfelt about it.

  “I am sure that I don’t know when anything has looked so good to me asthat table,” sighed Jane, clasping her hands and looking at the nutsand fudge. Marta had disappeared at once upon the arrival of the girlsand Ann knew that the chocolate was in process of preparation.

  “By your leave, then,” said Ann, “we will serve at once. Eleanor wasgood enough to make us some sandwiches. Marta is making the chocolate;so will you help me, Aline?”

  Ann passed a little tray, from which each girl took a paper napkin, aplate, a spoon and a nutpick. The sandwiches were passed next, and itwas not long before Marta came in with the chocolate.

  Steaming hot, a cup of chocolate on each plate made the first coursecomplete and sandwiches were passed more than once. The weather hadsuddenly changed to icy blasts, which made the walks a glare of ice andstarted the Forest Hill girls to planning for skating, when the lakeshould at last freeze over. It was pleasant to sip the hot chocolateand look out upon the wintry landscape.

  Not until the dessert, of nuts, grapes and fudge, was offered, did thegirls begin upon the main issue. Then it was put through quickly.

  “Who shall be the chairman of this meeting?” asked Eleanor. “I nominateJane Price.”

  Unanimously Jane was put into the chair. Without preface, she askedEleanor to present her proposition, the organization of a literary clubcalled the Scribblers’ Club. “Please tell how it is to differ from asociety like the Owls or the Addisons,” Jane requested.

  “There are similar clubs in different schools,” said Eleanor, “andit was because I heard about one of them that I wanted one for us.The idea is that only people especially interested shall belong andthat each one shall present some good piece of writing, passed on bya committee or the officers of the club, to make her eligible formembership. It may be something written for class or not. Many of ushave little time to write outside of what we do for English, so Ithought that it would be fair to accept anything original that isconsidered worthy. It should at least draw a B from Bunny!”

  The girls laughed at that. “I’m not so sure,” said Jane. “I presented agem of literature to Bunny, in my sophomore year, that carries a C, andI know that she begrudged that. Suppose that we leave acceptance to theofficers of the society, irrespective of what the teachers think?”

  “That is what I say,” said Katherine, “verses, for instance. Anyverse handed in to Bunny would be graded according to the standard ofTennyson or Browning,----”

  “Oh, no, Kit,” said Aline. “Browning never would get by Bunny. Shecould find flaws in any of ’em!”

  This conclusion seemed to be unanimous, laughingly conceded by thepresent or former pupils of Miss Bunn, the unpopular English teacher.

  Eleanor went on to explain that it would be best, in all probability,to have most of the officers from the two upper classes and that afterthis, sophomores could only enter after the first semester, when itwould be supposed that they could produce something worthy of admittingthem. They were to be encouraged to apply.

  After some discussion, following a motion to organize, Eleanor, withthe two seniors and the two juniors, were appointed as a committee todraw up a constitution and select a list of officers to be presentedat the next meeting. When these girls asked for instructions, itwas generally agreed that a senior should be president and that thecommittee to pass on members should be composed of juniors and seniors.“And sorority or society matters are never to be considered!” added Ann.

  “We can make that clear in the constitution,” said Eleanor, “thatnothing but merit and interest counts.”