At Boarding School with the Tucker Twins

Dee gazed at her with an agonized expression on her face and I gave her many an appealing glance, but she merely made a face at me and went on with her sculpture. Where was it to end? Zero for that day's lessons and many preceding days; and not a single one prepared for next day. She seemed perfectly careless of the teacher who was keeping study hall, as though she invited reproval; but it so happened that Miss Sears, who was on duty that night, did not seem to notice Dum's behavior. When the study hall was over, the reckless girl picked up all her brownies and carried them carefully on her open book up to her room, right under Miss Sears's nose.

"She must be crazy," whispered Dee to me, "and Miss Sears must be in love or blind or something. She didn't see how Dum was cutting up."

"Well, Dum was certainly reckless. I thought every minute she was going to be called down. You've got to be either good or careful, and Dum was certainly neither."

Miss Sears beckoned to me and I fell back, and the Tuckers went on to 117.

"Page," said Miss Sears, "Miss Peyton is rather worried over Virginia Tucker. Of course I saw how she was conducting herself during study hall, but Miss Peyton has decided the best way to get hold of Dum is to let her alone for a while. The rest of the school is back in working order, but she is as wild as a deer. Miss Peyton asked me to take you into our confidence and see if you can help us some. Will you keep a pretty sharp eye on Dum?"

"You mean tell on her if she gets into scrapes?" I asked, flushing painfully.

"My dear girl, no. You would not be the kind we would go to if we wanted an informer. We want you to try to influence Dum to quiet down, and let her realize that she must get to work. Demerits seem to have no effect on her. I verily believe she enjoys getting as many as she can. You have lots of influence with those girls, and I believe a talk from you would do her more good than being brought up before the faculty," and Miss Sears looked at me very kindly.

"Well, I'll do my best but I can't promise that Dum will listen to me." I did not like to say that I had already done what I could, but I determined to try, try again.

Dum had her brownies ranged in a line on the bureau and under each she had tucked one of her visiting cards, on which she had written something. Dee looked sad and Dum defiant.

"I was just telling Dum," began Dee.

"Never mind what you were telling Dum," interrupted the outrageous girl. "It's none of your business nor is it Page Allison's if I get into scrapes. I reckon I'm old enough to take care of myself without the assistance of persons no older nor wiser than I am."

"So you are, but you owe a penny for interrupting Dee; that's twenty-five cents since the holidays," I said sternly.

"I don't care if I do. I don't intend to pay it. I need my money for other things besides this foolishness."

I looked at Dum in amazement. She and Dee often were rude to each other but in the three months that I had known them, neither one of them had been anything but scrupulously polite to me. I realized that silence would be the better part of valor in this encounter, so I prepared for bed without saying a word. I gave a warning glance at Dee, and she, ever tactful, held her peace. Dum was evidently disappointed, as she was simply "sp'iling for a fight."

We got to bed as lights out bell rang and in a moment everything was perfectly quiet. I did not go to sleep immediately but pondered over what Miss Sears had said. "How can I best help Dum?" I asked myself. I must keep an eye on her and still not let her know it. It was hard to take her rudeness without giving her as good as she sent, but I felt that a real loss of temper on my part would mean an equal loss of influence. I dropped off to sleep with Dum on my mind.

It must have been a little after midnight when I awakened, and something prompted me to glance at Dum's bed. It was a bright night, the moon not full, but big enough to make everything in the room visible. A light snow was on the ground, which aided the lighting powers of the moon by reflection.

Dum's bed was empty. Her nightgown was on the floor and her clothes which I had seen her throw on the chair near her bed were gone. I got up in an excitement that made my heart go like a trip hammer and found her hat and jacket gone, too. "Dee, Dee," I said in as quiet a voice as I could command, "Dum is gone!"

"Gone! Gone where?" said poor sleepy Dee.

"I don't know, but it is up to us to find out. Get into your clothes as fast as you can. I don't believe she has been gone long, her bed is so warm."

I had felt it as soon as I jumped out of mine. Dee shuddered at this announcement of mine. She said afterward it sounded like the report of a coroner's inquest.

Fire engine horses could not have sprung into their harness quicker than Dee and I did into our clothes. In a twinkling we were wrapped in our warm sweaters and had donned hats and rubbers, the last not only because of the snow but to deaden our footsteps down the long corridors. I got ready a moment sooner than Dee and I struck a match and read one of the cards Dum had stuck under the little clay brownies: "To Miss Peyton as a parting token of appreciation of her discipline." I gasped with astonishment. Dum was crazy surely, perfectly daft.

"What is on the card?" asked Dee anxiously.

"Oh, just some of Dum's nonsense! Hurry!" I did not think I had better tell Dee. It sounded like a last farewell.

We found the front door unlocked. She had certainly gone out recently, as the watchman made his rounds every hour and it was then 12:20 by the big clock in the hall. I know the wisest thing for us to have done would have been to warn the watchman and let Miss Peyton know, but somehow I felt that we could cope with Dum by ourselves; and I also knew that the offense that Dum was guilty of was a very serious one and might mean that she would be expelled from Gresham.

"The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,Gave a luster of midday to objects below."

So, thank goodness, the prints of Dum's tennis shoes were quite plain to us. I was relieved to see that they went toward the village. I had had a nameless fear of the lake. On we sped! Once we saw where poor Dum had evidently paused and then turned back for a few yards. That encouraged me more than anything we had found out yet. She was softening and relenting.

"What do you suppose she means to do, Page?" panted Dee.

"She is trying to make that 12:40 train to Richmond. There she is!"

We had turned a sharp corner and there about a hundred yards ahead of us was Dum. She had almost reached the crossing where Captain Leahy had his unique abode. One minute more would land her at the station, and already we could hear the far-off whizzing of the approaching express. There was a light in the little gatehouse and just at that moment the dear old man emerged and began to let down his gate.

"Well, Saints preserve us! And what maid travels so late? Why, if she isn't one of the sponsors of Oliver." Dum stopped stockstill in the road.

"Captain Leahy, I'm going to take that midnight train to Richmond. Will you flag it for me?"

"And sure I'll do anything to please the ladies, but aren't ye young and tinder to be after taking such a thrip at this toime o' night?"

"But I have to go. I could never go back to Gresham now, and it would be best for me to go straight to my Father."

Dee and I had advanced silently, thanks to our rubber shoes, and we now came up behind the old Irishman and Dum.

"Come on, Dum, you can get back to Gresham before the watchman makes his one o'clock rounds if you hurry."

Dum looked at me aghast. "Page, you here, and Dee!"

"Where should I be but with my twin? We have never spent a night apart yet, Dumplingdeedledums." Dee's tact had won the day. That was Mr. Tucker's pet name for Dum, and Dee using it at such a time brought Dum to her senses. "What would Zebedee think and say of this escapade?" was what came to Dum's mind.

"Good-night, Captain, I reckon I won't go to Richmond to-night. We'll have to hurry to get in before one. That's the 12:40 now whistling for the crossing." And before the old man could get his breath, we had scurried away over the light fall of snow like so many rabbits.

It was uphill most of the way back to Gresham, but we made short work of it. If I had not been so desperately afraid the watchman would discover that the front door was unlocked before we got back and perhaps raise an alarm, I would have enjoyed our run immensely. The moon went behind a great black cloud, but we knew our way well enough not to be dependent on her light. Not one word did we speak, but saved our breath for this real fox-trot.

At the school at last! I tried the great door, almost afraid to breathe. It yielded to my push and we were in the dark hall. I had just sense enough left to lock the door, and then we flew up the steps and were safe in our room without having encountered the watchman.

"Quick work!" I gasped, falling on my bed. "Down to the station and back in forty minutes!"

But safety was not ours yet. We heard a door open down the corridor and light-slippered steps approaching 117.

"In bed with you, quick!" exclaimed Dum; and without the formality of night dresses, we jumped into bed, only taking the precaution to remove our hats. Diving under the covers with only our noses sticking out, we were to all appearances as lost to the world as the seven sleepers.

It was a teacher who had evidently heard a suspicious noise and had come out to investigate. She stopped a minute in front of our door and then gently turned the knob. "All quiet along the Potomac!" She stood a minute listening to Dum's "gently taken breath" and Dee's lifelike snore, and then quietly retired on tiptoe; and in a moment we heard her door close at the end of the corridor. If we got dressed like engine horses going to a fire, we got undressed like boys seeing who can get into the swimming hole first.

Dum kissed us both good-night, or rather good-morning, but said never a word about what her intentions had been nor the reasons for her flitting. We were asleep in a minute and the next morning I had to pinch myself to see if it had not been a dream. Our damp skirts and overshoes and each girl's hat under her bed was all that made me realize that we had been on that mad chase at midnight after the irrepressible Dum.

"Girls, you are both bricks!" exclaimed Dum, rubbing her eyes as the relentless rising bell tolled out. "Just think! If you had not come for me, I would have been in Richmond by this time and poor old Zebedee disgraced for life. There is nothing I can do to make it up to you – "

"Yes, there is," chorused Dee and me, "get to work again."

"I wasn't quite through what I was saying, but I am not going to impose the fine that you owe for interrupting, and I am going to pay my fine that amounts to a quarter now. I was awfully ashamed of not paying it last night, but you see I just did have enough money to get me to Richmond if I traveled on a day coach, so I had to let my debts of honor slide. I have been a bad, rude, unreasonable girl and I am just as sorry as I can be. I deserve to be expelled.

I don't know what has been the matter with me but I believe I have been getting ready to go to the home for the criminally insane. I hated the school; I hated the teachers; I hated lessons and rules; I just wanted Zebedee. He was the only person I wanted and I wanted him so bad I was just going to have him." Dum got out one of the gentlemen's handkerchiefs that she and Dee used and wept copiously. "Do you reckon we'll be found out?"

"Not a bit of it," I reassured her. "The blessed snow that was in that black cloud hiding the moon last night has covered up all our rabbit tracks, and when we take our walk this afternoon I am going to slip out of line long enough to warn Captain Leahy not to tell on us. Now, Dum, you get back to bed and stay there all day. I am going to tell Miss Peyton you don't feel quite up to snuff, which is certainly so. You jump in and study all your back lessons that you have missed and catch up with your classes. It will take a day of diligent work to do it because you have loafed ever since we got back to school, and by to-morrow morning you will feel reconciled to life and take your place again."

"Well, that would be kind of pleasant, but bring me up enough breakfast, 'cause I am not too ill to eat; and before you go down, hand me those brownies I made last night," and Dum reduced the inoffensive little works of art to Limbo with one squeeze of her hand. "I was leaving one of them for each teacher. I wanted to make them into devils but thought maybe that would be a little too sassy. I don't feel a bit that way now. I may model some angels to-day if I can get time after I have mastered all my back work."

Miss Peyton was easily persuaded by me that a day in bed would restore Dum to health and reason. She said she had hoped I could do something with the refractory twin and she was going to trust to me, since I was a doctor's daughter and no doubt had inherited some skill as a healer.

That afternoon, when we took our walk, Dee and I got permission from the teacher in charge to stop a moment at the crossing, presumably to call on Oliver and see how much he had grown.

"Captain Leahy," I cried, "you won't tell anyone about our being down here last night, will you?"

"And phwat do ye take me for?" he asked. "Didn't I see that ye were after saving the little twinlet and that she was crazy with homesickness? I mind too well the time many years ago when I got off of that very express just as Miss Peyton, then a wee slip of a maid, was after boarding it; and I took her by the hand and led her back to Gresham, she weeping bitterly all the toime. She was half mad for the sight of her folks and had run away from school."

"Miss Peyton!" we exclaimed in one breath. "Not Miss Peyton, the principal?"

"The same," he answered; "and this is the first toime, so help me, that I have mintioned it to a livin' sowl."

"Well, we'll never tell, Captain," I said, grasping his hand.

"And don't I know that? Would I be divulging the loiks to ye if I did not know the stoof ye are made of? I just tell ye so ye can know that I'll keep the little twinlet's secret as long as I have Miss Peyton's. If I iver tell it, it will be when she cannot be hurt by it, and some other poor little lamb can be oop-lifted."

"You want us to tell Dum, don't you?" asked Dee.

"For sure! And all of you come have tea with me soon and bring Miss Peyton."

We joined the line of blue-coated girls after a sharp run and then had to make up things to say about Oliver, because we had forgot even to ask about him.

Miss Cox spoke to me on the way to supper that evening. She looked worried and her face was crookeder than ever, but her eyes had a very kind light in them.

"Did I wake you last night, Page, when I opened your door?"

"Oh, was that you?" I involuntarily exclaimed.

"I had an idea some of you were awake," and the kindly woman smiled at my ingenuous acknowledgment. "I was afraid to knock, hoping you were asleep, so I tried the door and peeped in. I did not mean to be spying, but I have been very uneasy about Dum lately. I was afraid she needed some friendly advice. I had been writing late and had not been able to get to sleep, and I was almost certain I heard the front door open and shut. I simply could not rest without making sure that you three girls were safe in your downies. I had thought I heard something some forty minutes before but tried to make myself think I was just a foolish, nervous old maid."

I felt very foolish during this talk and could hardly look kind Miss Cox in the eye, but I did not consider it to be my secret and I said nothing. Mammy Susan always said: "The saftest thing in fly time is ter keep yo' mouf shet," and I felt that this was fly time for me.

"I have written to Mr. Tucker," Miss Cox continued. "I don't want the twins to know it, but I felt it was my duty as an old friend of both their parents to let him know how miserable Dum is."

"Oh, I have written, too!" I cried. "I wish I could stop my letter now, but it is too late. Poor Mr. Tucker will think things are in a terrible way with Dum. I believe she is herself again now after a day in bed, but I just felt I must let him know that an early visit from him would be advisable. I wouldn't let Tweedles find out for a million that I have done it."

"Well, you keep my secret and I'll keep yours. I am glad the Tuckers, father and daughters, have such a wholesome friend as you," and Miss Cox pressed my hand warmly.

CHAPTER XXII.

MORE LETTERS

From Miss Jane Cox to Mr. Jeffry Tucker

My dear Jeff:

I feel it my duty to write you in regard to your daughter Virginia. I told you I would look after your girls and I have tried to, but since the holidays Dum has been very difficult and the teachers hardly know how to cope with her. My private opinion is that the child is longing so for you that she is in a fair way to be made sick by it. A vacation of three weeks seems to be very upsetting and a great many of the pupils find it hard to get back into line, but Dum does not even want to, so far as I can see.

I do not mean to complain of Dum. You surely understand that, but I want to let you know the state of affairs. I am writing entirely on my own hook as your friend and the friend of the other little Virginia, companion of my youth. I fancy Miss Peyton would not approve of my doing it, as she feels able to master poor Dum by kindness; but I have studied her closely and feel that I understand her temperament better than our beloved principal. I have been afraid the child might take it into her head to run away from school. It is not that she does not like Gresham. I believe she likes it very much. She is popular with the whole school and has many friends. She is a good student and has done well up to the time she returned from Richmond. Since that time her marks have been zero.

Page Allison, who has a very good influence on all the girls with whom she comes in contact, is looking after her and she may be able to bring her to reason; but in the meantime, my dear Jeff, I want you to write to Dum very often, – of course not mentioning the fact that you have heard from me, – and give her hopes of a visit from you in the near future. That would mean everything to her.

Of course, an attempt to run away from school would be a very serious fault if discovered, because of the effect on the rest of the pupils. I don't want to alarm you, but I feel that I would be a poor friend indeed if I did not let you know of the trouble your little daughter is in a fair way to get herself into. Dee is back at work and doing finely, although as a rule she is not a better student than Dum. I am told that during study hall this evening Dum made no effort to concentrate on her lessons, but spent the whole time modeling grotesque little figures in colored clay.

Hoping you will take this information as it is meant, not thinking that I am a "tattle tale tit," but that I have the welfare of the children of my old friends very much at heart, and that it would be a cowardly and selfish act for me to hold back for fear of being misunderstood, I am,

Your sincere friend,Jinny Cox.From Mr. Jeffry Tucker to Miss Jane Cox

Jinny dear:

You always were a trump, and I can never express to you the gratitude I feel for the letter you have written me about my poor little headstrong Dum. She was particularly docile about returning to school, but as I told her good-by at the station she had a kind of smoldering look in her eyes that bodest no good. She has the most generous and kind heart in the world, but has always been the more difficult of the twins to manage. The matter is she has an artistic temperament, but I have been trying to conceal this fact from her all her life, as I think when a person once discovers he has an artistic temperament, he can commit any crime in the name of his temperament and feel that the world must forgive him. I want my little Virginia to understand that it is up to her to behave just as well as the ordinary folks who have no temperament to speak of. I am writing to her by this mail, but of course she is never to know you wrote to me. I am coming up to Gresham for a little visit just as soon as my strenuous duties will permit, and then I hope we can have another Lobster Quadrille.

I am very thankful that Tweedles has such a delightful companion as Miss Page Allison. She has improved them more than all the schooling in the world would. I am also thankful beyond measure that they have found such a friend as you are, dear Jinny. Keep on being good to them and if Dum shows further signs of insubordination, please telegraph me. I'll come, if no newspaper is published from this office for a month! Thanking you again, dear friend, in my name and also for the little Virginia, companion of your youth,

Very truly yours,Jeffry Tucker.From Page Allison to Mr. Jeffry Tucker

Dear Mr. Tucker:

I can't bear to worry you, but I think you ought to know that Dum wants to see you mighty bad. She has been very restless since we got back to Gresham; and while she is quieter now and says she is going to study hard and be a model pupil henceforth, I am afraid she will break down because she has so many demerits to work off. Miss Peyton has been very kind and patient, but of course it would not be fair to the other students to let up on Dum; and I believe she has enough demerits to keep her in bounds for about three weeks.

Now please don't think I am bossy, but if you could write her and tell her that you think you might get up to Gresham in about three weeks, that would give her some ambition to work off those marks and not get any others. You see, if she is in bounds when you come, she can't see much of you.

I don't want Tweedles to know I am writing this to you, but if you should mention having got a letter from me, you can call it a "bread and butter letter."

You were so kind to me on my visit to the girls. I had about the gayest and best time I ever had in my life, and I do want to thank you for it.

Very sincerely,Page Allison.Miss Page Allison, from Mr. Jeffry Tucker

My dear Miss Page:

Your word is law! In three weeks' time I will be in Gresham. I don't consider you a bit bossy but very sweet and kind and wise. Thank God, my poor little Dum has made such a friend. I wish I could flatter myself that I could call you friend as my girls can. I thank you from my soul for your interest in Tweedles.

Most gratefully,Jeffry Tucker.Mr. Jeffry Tucker to his daughters, Virginia and Caroline

Dearest and best beloved Tweedles:

Surely "'tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good!" Know you that there has been a big shooting scrape up in the mountains, and it is of such importance that I have decided to cover the trial myself instead of sending a reporter. This trial comes off in a little over three weeks, and as Gresham is on the way, I am going to stop off to see my babies, and hope they will be glad to have their old Zebedee with them for a day or so. I'll manage to get there on Saturday afternoon and stay until Monday night. Be good girls until then, so you will not have any hateful demerits to work off.

I miss you so much, more than I did at first, but I'm trying to be a very good boy and stick to business. I can hardly wait to see you. Give my kindest regards to Miss Page, and tell her not to get any demerits between now and the time of my visit, as she must do whatever the Tuckers do on that visit.

Your own Zebedee.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ZEBEDEE'S VISIT

Mr. Tucker's promise of a visit did all that I knew it would for Dum. She worked off her demerits without a murmur; studied her lessons diligently; soon caught up in her classes; and was altogether an exemplary Dum.

If his promise of a visit worked such wonders, his visit completed the miracle. We had already come through our mid-year examinations, some with flying colors and some with tattered banners like the poor Confederate flags that you see in the Valentine Museum in Richmond, – but the thing was that we were through and none of our little crowd of cronies had failed. Annie Pore carried off the honors in Latin, thanks to the drilling she had been brought up on by the severe Oxford graduate. Dum was easily first in mathematics. Dee seemed to know the physiology off by heart. History was Mary Flannigan's forte and not a date from Noah's flood to the San Francisco earthquake could stump her. Literature was what most interested me, and it would have been silly not to get an honor when it did seem so easy.