to the floor, gently laid him down. John followed close behind, announcing:
“’Tis Robin, Dame, our bonny Robin of the Glen. The heart of the mother will break. He – ”
“Help here. Hot water, please. More light. An old sheet for bandages. Don’t dally. Undress him, Lady Jane.”
“But, doctor, I’m afraid!” objected that lady who, partly from curiosity, partly to avoid the rain, had followed the physician into the house.
Indeed, all the motoring party had now swarmed into the kitchen, intending to be quiet yet really chattering noisily, and some of them sniffing covetously the odors from a great pot of soup, steaming away on the stove. But nobody was quite ready to respond to the doctor’s appeals for help, even Mrs. Gilpin being confused and stupid before these strangers who had taken possession of her home.
As for old John, he could simply stand and stare at the unconscious lad on the bed, too dazed and grieved to be of any use whatever.
Not so Dorothy, who had entered with the rest and who noticed Dr. Winston’s impatience – who knew that a hospital was where his patient should be and not this ill-equipped cottage. Throwing off her dripping jacket, she cried:
“I’ll help.”
A teakettle was singing beside the soup-pot on the stove and a dishpan was hanging near. To empty the kettle into the pan and to carry it to the chair beside the bed was an instant’s task. Then, seizing the upper sheet and using her teeth for scissors, she swiftly tore it into strips; and by this time the dame had regained her own presence of mind.
Without troubling to ask who Dorothy was or how she came to be there, she now took charge of things, saying:
“You’ll find clean towels in that chest of drawers. Fetch the doctor a pile. Shears are yon in that work-basket. You’re spry on your feet as I can’t be, but I do know how to take the clothes off this poor Robin. My, what’s this he clenches so tight in hand? One of them telegraph letters ’tis his errand to deliver. All over the countryside the laddie rode on his wheel to earn the bit money would pay his mother’s rent. Brave, bonny lad that he was!”
Gently releasing the telegram from his fingers, Mrs. Gilpin held it up for the doctor to see.
“For Oak Knowe. Open it, little girl, and read if it’s important.”
She obeyed, but her voice trembled as she read. It was the belated message that announced her own coming and the hour of her arrival. It explained why she had not been met at the station, but she felt both shocked and guilty as she exclaimed:
“Oh! it is my fault! It’s all my fault that he is killed! Just about me it happened! What shall I do – what shall I do?”
“Stop that sort of talk and see how your dead boy stares at you! Look well, Robin, you see a real live Yankee girl!”
CHAPTER II
UNFORTUNATE BEGINNINGS
Even the most cultured Lady Principals do not enjoy being roused from their slumbers, an hour after midnight, by the tooting of a motor car beneath their bedroom windows. It was annoying to have to dress again and descend to a dimly-lighted reception room to receive a new pupil who had missed a train, on the route, and misdirected her telegram. Nor was there anything prepossessing about this especial girl, whose clothes steamed with moisture and whose travel-soiled cheeks were streaked by raindrops and tears. So it was small wonder that Dorothy’s reception by Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon was decidedly cool and crisp.
“This is really unprecedented, Miss Calvert. I cannot understand how any young lady, whose friends consider her intelligent enough to travel alone, could have made such stupid blunders, as you have. At the point where you knew you were to change trains, why did you not keep watch and inquire for direction?”
“Well, you see there was a military parade and the soldiers looked so queer in their red uniforms and their funny little caps on the sides of their heads that – that – that I forgot. I mean the timetable told the right hour, course, but the first train was behind and so – and so – ”
It was a very lame excuse and Dolly knew it. But it was the truth and as such she gave it.
Miss Tross-Kingdon made no reply. Inwardly she was commenting upon Dorothy’s pronunciation of certain words, which was wholly at fault according to English custom, and realizing that here was the first fault to be corrected in her new pupil.
Dorothy’s heart sank. Uncle Seth’s last advice to her had been:
“Whenever you feel blue, just wave your flag of high courage and march ahead. Don’t stop to think! March, march, march – toward the better time that will surely come.”
But that high-courage flag hung limply now and she felt she could never again wave it at all. But, fortunately, the Lady Principal now rose to terminate the interview. Touching an electric bell for the maid on night duty, she said:
“It is very late and you are tired. Dawkins will show you to your cubicle and assist you in undressing. You may omit your bath, to-night, and are allowed an extra hour of sleep in the morning. Where are your suit case and hand bag?”
Dorothy rose, as the lady did, but a fresh feeling of guilt made her eyes fall as she murmured:
“I – don’t – know.”
“Don’t know!” echoed the Lady Principal, in amazement. Then directing Dawkins to supply what was needed, she returned to her interrupted repose, while Dorothy wearily followed the stern-faced maid; being cautioned, meanwhile:
“Do not dare to make a noise and arouse the young ladies.”
Yet arrived at the cubicle, or small division of the great dormitory which had been assigned her, Dorothy realized that Dawkins was kinder than she looked. For presently she was being undressed, her face and hands sponged with cool water, and herself reclothed with the freshest of gowns. Then she was bodily lifted into the dainty little bed as if she were a baby.
This unexpected gentleness touched her heart and, flinging her arms about the maid’s neck, she sobbed:
“Oh! do be good to me! I am so desolate!”
“Whist, child! We must no be wakin’ the troublesome girls around. And sure the lonesomeness’ll pass, like the dew afore sun, once you get a good sleep and meet up with your mates. Good night, child, and sleep well.”
Then, since there was nobody to witness her unusual demonstration, maid Dawkins stooped and kissed the tired eyes of her new charge, and went quietly away.
But there had been one observer of this caress. Peeping from her own compartment stood a girl whose keen eyes had noticed everything, and who felt she could scarcely wait until morning to spread the news. Creeping back to her own bed, she lay long awake, thinking the matter over. For this schoolgirl, who rejoiced in the title of the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard, had a deal of curiosity that was wholly roused now.
“Never saw old Dawkins kiss anybody. Dawkins, of all creatures! Never knew a new girl come at this time of night – and she certainly was new. And she hadn’t any clothes, I know, because that was one of the school hampers Dawkins had. Must be somebody very poor. I wonder who! Maybe – for goodness sake! Maybe she’s some relation to old Dawk! Else why should she kiss her? Humph! I thought this was a school for young ladies, not for the poor relations of servants. There’s
