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Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall

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<h3> CHAPTER VI </h3> <h4> THE ENTERING WEDGE </h4> Since Ruth Fielding had first met Helen Cameron—and that was on the very day the former had come to the Red Mill—the two girls had never had a cross word or really differed much on any subject. Ruth was the more yielding of the two, perhaps, and it might be that that was why Helen seemed so to expect her to yield now. "Of course, Ruthie, we can't disappoint Miss Cox," she said, with finality. "And after she was so kind to us, too." "Are you sure she did all that out of simple kindness, Helen?" asked the girl from the Red Mill, slowly. "Why! what do you mean?" "Aunt Alviry says one should never look a gift-horse in the mouth," laughed Ruth. "What do you mean?" demanded her chum. "Why, Helen, doesn't it seem to you that Mary Cox came out deliberately to meet us, and for the purpose of making us feel under obligation to her?" "For pity's sake, what for?" "So that we would feel just as you do—that we ought if possible to attend the meeting of her society?" "I declare, Ruth Fielding! How suspicious you have become all of a sudden." Ruth still laughed. But she said, too: "That is the way it has struck me, Helen. And I wondered if you did not see her attention in the same light, also." "Why, she hasn't asked us to join the Upedes," said Helen. "I know. And neither has Miss Steele——" "You seem to have taken a great fancy to that Madge Steele," interrupted Helen, sharply. "I think she is nice looking—and she was very polite," said Ruth, quietly. "Well, I don't care," cried Helen. "Miss Cox has shown us much more kindness. And I promised for us, Ruth. I said we'd attend her club this evening." "Well," said her chum, slowly. "It does look as though we would have to go with Miss Cox, then. We'll tell Miss Steele——" "I believe your head has been turned by that Madge Steele because she's a Senior," declared Helen, laughing, yet not at all pleased with her friend. "And the F. C.'s are probably a fussy crowd. All the teachers belonging to the club too. I'd rather belong to the Upedes—a real girls' club without any of the teachers to boss it." Ruth laughed again; but there was no sting in what she said: "I guess you have made up your mind already that the Up and Doing Club is the one Helen Cameron wants to join." "And the one Ruth Fielding must join, too!" declared Helen, in her old winning way, slipping her arm through Ruth's arm. "We mustn't go separate ways, Ruthie." "Oh, Helen!" cried Ruth. "Don't talk like that. Of course we will not. But let us be careful about our friendships here." "What do you mean?" "I mean," said Ruth, smiling, "that we must be careful about joining any crowd of girls until we know just how things are." "Well," said Helen, dropping her arm and walking to the other end of the room for no reason whatsoever, for she walked back again, in a moment, "I don't see why you are so suspicious of Mary Cox." "I don't know that I am," laughed Ruth. "But we have no means of comparison yet——" A mellow bell began to ring from some other building—probably in the tower of the main building of Briarwood Hall. "There!" ejaculated Helen, in some relief. "That must be to announce supper." "Are you ready, Helen?" asked Ruth. "Yes." "Then let us go." There was a card on which were printed several simple rules of conduct tacked to the door. The chums had read them. One was that rooms should be left unlocked in the absence of the occupants, and Ruth and Helen went out into the corridor, leaving their door open. There were other girls in the passage then, all moving toward the stairway. Some of them nodded kindly to the Infants. Others only stared. Ruth saw Miss Steele in advance, and whispered to Helen: "Come, dear; let us speak to her and tell her we cannot accept her Invitation for this evening." But Helen held back. "You can tell her if you like," she said, rather sullenly. "But, let us be nice about it," urged Ruth. "I'll tell her we overlooked the fact that we were already engaged for the meeting of the Up and Doing Club. I'll explain." Helen suddenly seized her chum's arm more tightly. "You are a good little thing, Ruthie," she declared. "Come on." They hurried after the Senior and caught up with her at the foot of the stairs. She was not alone, but Ruth touched her arm and asked to speak with her. "What's the matter, Infants?" demanded the Senior, but smiling at them. Helen flushed at the expression, but Ruth was too earnest in her intention to smooth over the difficulty to notice so small a thing. "Oh, Miss Steele," she said, "I am sorry to beg off from the kind invitation you gave us. We cannot go with you this evening. It seems that it was already understood with Miss Cox that we should go with her." "Oh!" exclaimed Madge Steele, a little stiffly, "you are already pledged, then?" "Yes, we are pledged to attend the meeting of the Up and Doing Club this evening. It was very kind of Miss Cox to invite us," said Ruth, calmly. "And it was kind of you to invite us to the F. C.'s, too. But we cannot attend both meetings—not in one evening." Madge Steele was looking at her earnestly and found that Ruth neither dropped her gaze nor appeared confused by her scrutiny. Helen was the one who seemed confused. "It is not our usage to interfere with those who are pledged to other school clubs," said Miss Steele, speaking distinctly. "I understand, then, that you are not pledged?" "Only to attend this meeting as visitors of Miss Cox," said Ruth, simply. "Very well, then," said Madge Steele, her pleasant face breaking into a smile again, "I shall hope to see you at some future meeting of the Forward Club. Here we are on the campus. It is cool and shady here, even in the hottest weather. We think it is a decidedly pleasant place." She walked beside them, conversing pleasantly. Helen recovered her good temper and ventured a remark about the fountain which graced the center of the campus. It was a huge marble figure of a sitting female, in graceful draperies and with a harp, or lyre, on the figure's knee. The clear water bubbled out all around the pedestal, and the statue and bowl were sunk a little below the level of the greensward, like a small Italian garden. "What is the figure supposed to represent, Miss Steele?" asked Helen. "You are allowed three guesses—and then you won't know," laughed the Senior. "You can see by the stains and moss on it that the fountain has been there a great many years. Long before Briarwood Hall was a school. But it is supposed to represent either Poesy, or Harmony. Nobody knows—not even Mrs. Tellingham." The bell stopped tolling with three, sharp, jerky taps. Madge Steele quickened her pace along the path and the newcomers followed her. Other girls were pouring into the building nearest to the main structure of Briarwood. A broad stairway led up to assembly rooms; but out of the lower hall opened a large dining room, in which were ten or twelve long tables, and at which the girls were already being seated by some sort of system. "I don't know where you will be seated," said Madge Steele, hastily. "I am at the second Senior table. Here comes Miss Picolet. She will attend to you Infants." "Oh, it's the little French teacher," said Helen. Ruth met the little lady with a smile. Miss Picolet nodded to them both and put out her tiny hand. She really was no taller than Helen. "I am glad, young ladies, to see you in such good company. Miss Steele is well worth cultivating," she said. "Come this way. You will be seated in the Junior division. It is probable that you will be placed in that grade permanently. Mrs. Tellingham will see you in her office in the next building immediately after supper." Ruth and Helen followed the doll-like teacher to their seats. The girl whom Mary Cox had called "Heavy" (and, indeed, it was a most appropriate name) was already seated, and was right at Ruth's elbow. "Oh, I hope they'll be seated soon," Ruth heard this over-plump girl murmur. "This is cup-custard night, and I'm so-o hungry." The tables were laid nicely. There were several waitresses, and besides Miss Picolet, there were at least four other ladies whom Ruth knew must be teachers. The hall was by no means filled. There were not more than a hundred and fifty girls present. The door at the far end opened and a handsome, white-haired, pink-cheeked lady entered. She mounted a slightly raised platform and stood for a moment overlooking the room. "It's Mrs. Tellingham," whispered the fat girl to Ruth, seeing the question in the latter's face. The Preceptress was a really handsome lady—perhaps forty-five, perhaps ten years older. Her perfectly white hair, thick and well arranged, seemed to have been the result of something besides age. Here face was quite free from any age-marks. There was a kind look in her eyes; a humorous expression about her mouth. Helen leaned toward Ruth and whispered: "I know I shall just love her, Ruth—don't you?" "And you won't be alone in that, Infant," said the girl on Helen's other hand. "Now!" Mrs. Tellingham raised her hand. The school arose and stood quietly while she said grace. Another motion of the hand, and they sat down again. The bustle of supper then began, with the girls talking and laughing, the waitresses serving a plain, hot meal, and everybody in apparent good-nature, and happy. Ruth could scarcely pay attention to the food, however, she was so much more interested in these who were to be her school-fellows. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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