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Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School

<h1>Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School</h1> <h3>OR</h3> <h2>The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshmen Girls</h2> <h3>By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M.</h3> <h4>Author of Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School, Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School, Etc.</h4> <h4>PHILADELPHIA HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY Copyright, 1910</h4> <hr style="width: 45%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i001.jpg" alt=""/></div> <h3>A Troop of Black-Robed Figures Were Stealthily Approaching.</h3> <hr style="width: 45%;" /> <h2>CONTENTS</h2>  CHAPTER I. The Accident of Friendships CHAPTER II. The Sponsor of the Freshman Class CHAPTER III. Mrs. Gray Engages a Secretary CHAPTER IV. The Black Monks of Asia CHAPTER V. Anne Has a Secret CHAPTER VI. The Sophomore Ball CHAPTER VII. All Hallowe'en CHAPTER VIII. Miss Leece CHAPTER IX. Thanksgiving Day CHAPTER X. Grace Keeps Her Secret CHAPTER XI. Mrs. Gray's Adopted Daughters CHAPTER XII. Miriam Plans a Revenge CHAPTER XIII. Christmas Holidays CHAPTER XIV. A Midnight Alarm CHAPTER XV. Tom Gray CHAPTER XVI. The Marionette Show CHAPTER XVII. After the Ball CHAPTER XVIII. A Winter Picnic CHAPTER XIX. Wolves! CHAPTER XX. The Gray Brothers CHAPTER XXI. The Lost Letter CHAPTER XXII. Danger Ahead CHAPTER XXIII. In the Thick of the Night CHAPTER XXIV. The Freshman Prize Other Books Published by HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY  <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> A Troop of Black-Robed Figures Were Stealthily Approaching. "Miss Pierson, Do You Recognize This Figure?" "Give That Back! It Is Not Yours." Tom Gray Escapes from the Wolves <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School</h2> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER I</h2> <h3>THE ACCIDENT OF FRIENDSHIPS</h3> "Who is the new girl in the class?" asked Miriam Nesbit, flashing her black eyes from one schoolmate to another, as the girls assembled in the locker room of the Oakdale High School. "Her name is Pierson; that is all I know about her," replied Nora O'Malley, gazing at her pretty Irish face in the looking glass with secret satisfaction. "She's very quiet and shy and looks as if she would weep aloud when her turn comes to recite, but I'm sure she's all right," she added good naturedly. For Nora had a charming, sunny nature, and always saw the best if there was any best to see. "She is very bright," broke in Grace Harlowe decisively. "She went through her Latin lesson without a mistake, which is certainly more than I could do." "Well, I don't like her," pouted Miriam. "I never trust those quiet little things. And, besides, she is the worst-dressed girl in——" "Hush!" interrupted Jessica Bright, touching a finger to her lips. "Here she is." A little, brown figure entered the room just as Miriam finished speaking. But Jessica was too late with her warning. The young girl had, without doubt, heard the cruel speech and her face flushed painfully as she pinned on a shabby old hat, slipped her arms into a thin black jacket and stepped out again without looking at the crowd of schoolmates who watched her silently. "Miriam, I should think you'd learn to be more careful," exclaimed hot-tempered Nora, her soft heart touched by the appealing little stranger. "Well, what difference does it make?" replied Miriam. "If Miss Pierson doesn't know already that she's the shabbiest girl in school, it's high time she found it out. I have a suspicion her mother takes in washing or something, and I mean to find it out right now. We can't invite a girl like that to our class parties and entertainments. She would disgrace us." "Miriam," said Grace quietly, "I believe we are all privileged to invite whom we please to our homes. I intend to give a class tea next Saturday, and I mean to follow Miss Pierson right now and ask her to help me receive." The two girls looked into each other's faces for a moment without speaking. Grace was quiet and contained, Miriam flushed and furiously angry. They had been rival leaders always at the Grammar School, but the rivalry had never come to open battle until now. Miriam was the first to drop her eyes. She did not reply, but from that moment she was the sworn enemy of Grace Harlowe and her two friends, Nora and Jessica. "Well, we had better hurry," said Jessica, trying to calm the troubled scene. "Nobody knows exactly where Miss Pierson lives and she will be out of sight before we can catch her." The three girls ran lightly out of the basement of the fine old building that was the pride of Oakdale. It was large and imposing, built of smooth, gray stone, with four huge columns supporting the front portico. A hundred yards away stood the companion building, the Boys' High School, exactly like the first in every respect except that a wing had been added for a gymnasium which the girls had the privilege of using on certain days. A wide campus surrounded the two buildings, shaded by elm and oak trees. Certainly no other town in the state could boast of twin high schools as fine as these; and especially did the situation appeal to the people of Oakdale, for the ten level acres surrounding the two buildings gave ample space for the various athletic fields, and the doings of the high schools formed the very life of the place. But we must return to our three girls who were hurrying down the shady street, followed in a more leisurely and dignified fashion by Miriam and her friends. The shabby figure of the little stranger had just turned the corner as the girls left the High School grounds. "Come on," cried Grace breathlessly, leading the way. Having once made up her mind, she always pursued her point with a fine obstinacy regardless of opinion. When they had come to the cross street they saw their quarry again, now making her way slowly toward the street next the river. This was the shabbiest street in Oakdale, though no one knew exactly why, since the river bank might have been the chosen site for all the handsomest buildings; but towns are as incorrigible as people, sometimes, and insist on growing one way when they should grow another, without the slightest regard for future appearances. And so, when little Miss Pierson stopped in front of one of the smallest and meanest cottages on River Street, the girls knew she must, indeed, be very poor. The house, small and forlorn, presented a sad countenance streaked with tear stains from a leaky gutter. An uneven pavement led to the front door, which bore a painted sign: "Plain Sewing." They paused irresolutely at the gate, and were taking counsel together when Miriam Nesbit passed with her friends. She pointed at the door and laughed. "Really, that girl's conduct is contemptible!" exclaimed Grace, giving the wooden gate a vigorous push. "I simply won't tolerate her rudeness. She is an unmitigated snob!" Grace knocked on the door rather sharply to emphasize her feelings. It was opened almost immediately by Miss Pierson herself, still in her hat and coat; and in her surprise and embarrassment she almost shut the door in their faces. But Jessica's gentle smile reassured her, and Grace, who was a born leader, took her hand kindly and plunged at once into the subject. "You left school so quickly this afternoon, Miss Pierson, that I didn't have a chance to see you. I have something very particular I want to ask you to-day." "Won't you come in?" said the other, opening the door into the parlor, which had an air of refinement about it in spite of its utter poorness. "Anne!" called a querulous voice down the passage. "Yes, mother, I'm coming," answered the girl, hurrying out of the room with a frightened look in her eyes. In a few moments she was back again. "Please excuse me for leaving you," she said. "My mother is an invalid and needs my sister or me with her constantly." "Her name is Anne, then," thought Grace. "I shall call her so at once and break the ice." "Anne," she said aloud, "I think you know my friends, don't you—Jessica Bright and Nora O'Malley? And I am Grace Harlowe." "Oh, yes," replied Anne, brightening at the friendly advances of the others. "I remember your names from the roll call." "Of course," replied Grace. "But I think we should all be more to each other than roll-call acquaintances, we freshmen. I am very ambitious for our class. I want it to be the best that ever graduated from Oakdale High School, and for that reason, I think all the girls in it should try to be friends and work together to advance the cause. I'm going to start the ball rolling by giving a tea to our class next Saturday afternoon. Will you come and receive with Jessica and Nora and me?" Anne clasped her hands delightedly for a moment. Then her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled so that the girls were afraid she might be going to cry. Tender-hearted Jessica turned her face away for fear of showing too much sympathy. "I'm sorry," said Anne at last, rather unsteadily, "but I am afraid I can't accept your delightful invitation. I——" "I beg your pardon," said a voice at the door, "I didn't mean to intrude on your visitors, Anne, but I couldn't help overhearing Miss Harlowe's invitation." A small woman, much older than Anne, but very like her in face and figure, appeared at the door. "This is my sister," said Anne, taking the other's hand affectionately. "Anne imagines she can't go, but she certainly can," went on the older Miss Pierson, calmly, not in the least embarrassed by the strange young girls. "Of course, she must go. I can arrange it easily." "But, Mary——" protested Anne. "Never mind, little sister," interrupted Mary, "it will be all right. Miss Harlowe, what time must she be there?" "At four o'clock," answered Grace, rising to go, "and I am delighted that she can come. Remember, Anne, I'm counting on you to pour the lemonade. The other girls are going to help with the sandwiches and ice cream. By the way," she added, as they went down the steps, "be sure and come to the basketball meeting at the gym this afternoon." And so it was arranged that Anne Pierson, the shabbiest and poorest girl in Oakdale High School, was to help receive at one of the prettiest and most charming houses in town. Miriam Nesbit's rudeness was to bring about a friendship between Anne Pierson and her three schoolmates that lasted a lifetime. After the half-past two o'clock dinner, which was the universal custom in Oakdale, the chums met again at the gymnasium in the Boys' High School. Wednesdays and Saturdays were nicknamed "ladies' days" by the High School boys, for on these afternoons the girls were permitted free use of the gymnasium. The meeting to-day was not for gymnastic exercises, however, but an important subject was to be discussed—the Freshman Basketball Team. Also the captain of the team was to be elected. Other club meetings were in full force when the girls arrived, and the great room vibrated with the hum of voices. The three freshmen, who knew better than to interrupt sophomores and juniors at their pow-wows, made their way quietly across the hall to the appointed place of rendezvous. Of course, the entire Freshman Class did not assemble to discuss this subject. Many members were not interested in basketball, except to look on. Girls who were overstudious, and not physically strong, could not at any rate play on the team, and therefore they seldom attended such meetings. Jessica Bright was one of these, nevertheless, she followed her two friends, who had always been foremost in athletics at the Central Grammar School. The election of a captain was the first business of the meeting. That over, the captain, after due and serious consultation with a friendly cabinet, chose the players and their substitutes. Undoubtedly Grace Harlowe had the coolest head in the class, and was the most to be relied upon at critical moments; yet Miriam Nesbit exerted a strange influence over her followers, who were almost her slaves. She was the richest of all the girls and wore the costliest clothes. The parties she gave, from time to time, in her mother's large and handsome home were the talk of the place. She was also the cleverest girl in the class, and had taken undisputed first place since she was a child. She was not a close student, but seemed to absorb her lessons in half the time that it took her friends to master them. Popular she certainly was, or rather she was feared by her schoolmates. Her masterful, overpowering spirit seemed to sweep everything before it. Grace Harlowe was quite as powerful in her way, but she had a noble, unselfish disposition and was much beloved by her friends. She stood well in her studies, but had never taken first place. Perhaps this was because she had interested herself so much in outdoor sports that she had not given enough time to study. Both girls were handsome—Miriam tall, dark and oriental-looking, with flashing eyes and an imperious curve to her lips; Grace was also tall, with wavy, chestnut hair, fine gray eyes, regular features, a full, generous chin and cheeks glowing with health. Miriam Nesbit had already done a good deal of lobbying when the three girls arrived on the scene. She wished to be elected captain of the team at any cost; but Grace's adherents were holding off, quietly waiting for her arrival. "Well, here you are at last!" said Marian Barber, who had been preparing the ballots for the coming election. Marian was the busy girl of the class, and always made herself useful. "Is everyone here?" demanded Nora, scanning the crowd of freshmen with a view to ascertaining what her chum's chances were. "All that intend coming," replied Miriam. "The softies stayed away, as usual." "Suppose we wait five minutes," said Grace, looking at her watch, "and then, if no one comes, we will cast the votes." "No, no," exclaimed Miriam impatiently. "I have an engagement and can't spare any more time. I vote that we have the election at once, without waiting another moment." "Very well," assented Grace. "I only suggested waiting because Anne Pierson promised to come, and, of course, every girl in the class has a right to vote at the class elections." "Anne Pierson?" cried Miriam, turning crimson with suppressed rage. "Yes," answered Grace calmly; "but, if everybody is agreeable, suppose we go ahead." "Agreed!" cried the others and the ballots were cast. There was not much parliamentary practice in these class elections. Each girl wrote the name of her choice on a slip of paper and dropped it in a hat. Four of the girls then counted the votes, and the one receiving the most slips was declared elected. The slips were dropped into the hat, amid the silence of the company. Some of the sophomores and juniors, perched on parallel bars, watched the scene with superior amusement, but no notice was taken of their half-whispered jeers. The four girls then retired to count the votes. "It's a tie," announced Marian Barber, returning presently; "a tie between Grace and Miriam. I wish some of the others would come and settle the matter." "Here's some one," cried Nora. "Here's Anne Pierson. Let her cast the decisive vote." Miriam's eyes blazed, but she held her peace. There was nothing to do but submit with an uneasy grace. But who could doubt what the outcome would be? However, she felt somewhat relieved when Grace said: "I think we should cast the votes over again, and, according to the rules we made last year, Miriam and I should not vote, since the election rests between us." The votes were cast again, Anne timidly dropping her slip in the hat with the others, and, as might have been expected, Grace was elected captain of the Freshman Basketball Team of the Oakdale High School. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER II</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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