Miss Ashton's New Pupil Part 21

_and all the members of the "Never Say Die Club."_

"What are those girls up to now?" Miss Ashton said with a pleasant laugh, as she read the invitation, but she accepted it without any delay, and when she was told by Miss Newton, the confidential helper of the whole school in any of their wants, that the parlor had been lent to the secret society for the evening, and no teacher was to be allowed entrance until eight o'clock, she smilingly acquiesced.

The club were excused from their recitations that afternoon, and it was amusing to see how much spying there was among the rest of the school to find out what was going on. All that could be seen, however, was the coming in of a big boxed article, unfortunately for the curious, so boxed that no one could even guess what it contained.

A general invitation had been given to the whole school, and before the appointed hour for opening the door, groups of girls in full evening dress began to fill the corridor and press close to the door.

When, punctual to the appointed moment, it was flung open, a burst of laughter followed.

Ranged around a covered object in the middle of the room stood twenty girls, dressed in gray flannel blankets made in the fas.h.i.+on of the penitential robes worn by nuns. They all wore stiff white hoods, with the long capes coming down over their shoulders, and each one carried in her hand a small tin pan filled to the brim with ashes.

They stood immovable until Miss Ashton entered the room, when the whole club sank upon their knees, bending their heads until they nearly touched the floor, dexterously placing the tin of ashes upon their backs.

No sooner had they a.s.sumed this position than a little flag was unfurled from the top of the covered object in the middle of the room, upon which was printed in large letters:--

"FORGIVE, AND ACCEPT."

Then the covering was slowly removed by some one hidden beneath it, and there stood an elegant writing-desk, on the front of which were the words:--

"A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MISS ASHTON THE MERCIFUL FROM HER GRATEFUL NEVER SAY DIE CLUB."

CHAPTER XXVII.

CHRISTMAS IN THE ACADEMY.

Marion, two days before Christmas, was once more left alone in her room. The Rock Cove cousins had given her the most cordial invitation to go home with them for the vacation, but she had declined. In doing so, she had a half-acknowledged feeling that she was to suffer just penance for her misdeeds at Belden, and a dread of what unknown trouble she might meet at Rock Cove. This Eastern world was so different from the whole-hearted, kindly one she had left behind her, that instead of wonting to it, she grew timid, diffident of herself, even among the girls, and shy about venturing abroad. So she made her mind up bravely to stay where she was, and spend her vacation in study.

Miss Ashton fully approved; for since Marion's sickness with her cold, she had shown an inclination to cough, and was often hoa.r.s.e in the morning. A stay by the seaside in winter would be to run a risk. It might be dull for her to remain, but she loved her books, and there was plenty for her to do in order to keep up with her advanced cla.s.ses; besides, there were twenty of the pupils whose homes were so distant they could not go there, and return, without taking more time than the vacation allowed, so they, also, were to remain, and Marion, though dull, need not be lonely.

All the teachers but Fraulein Sausmann were to be absent, and to her care Miss Ashton had to commit the young ladies during the vacation.

The wheels of the carriage that took her away from the academy had hardly ceased to be heard by the anxious listeners there, before Marion's door was opened just far enough to admit the Fraulein's good-natured face.

Never had her ample head of light hair looked so large, her blue eyes so blue, her nose so _retrousse_, or her thin lips so thin, to Marion, as now. Before she had time to welcome her, the Fraulein said in her high-pitched voice,--

"O Marione! Wir happiness time wir have der Christtag. Wir 'ave der Baum so high," holding up a plump little hand as high as she could reach. "Twenty, thirty das Licht! Christtag presented buful! You 'ave one, sieben, zwolf, four! You come happiness; nicht cry, nicht! nicht!

Lachen! so!" and a merry peal of laughter Marion found no trouble in echoing.

"You come parlor Christtag night, you see! I, Santa Claus! Merry Christtag. Catch you! Nicht cry! Lachen! Lachen!"

She shut the door softly, but Marion heard her laugh as she went down the long corridor, such a merry, contagious laugh, that it carried away with it the loneliness from Marion's room.

There was to be a gathering in the parlor then,--der Baum. Twenty, thirty das Licht, and what else? Of one thing Marion felt sure, if she was to receive, one, sieben, zwolf, four presents, she must give some in return, but what, and to whom?

She was not long in doubt. Lilly White was among those who remained, and the Fraulein had hardly gone when she made her appearance with four other girls at her door.

"Oui, Fraulein Marione! Ab alio expectes, alteri quod feceris.

"That's French, Latin, and German. I picked it out of"--

"Don't tell, Lilly White," broke in one of the girls. "See if Marion can translate it."

"Come in and let me try," said Marion, laughing. "Oui--yes; Fraulein--Miss Marion; Ab alio expectes, alteri quod feceris--If any one gives you a present, be sure you give one back."

"A literal translation," said the same girl. "Miss Jones always said you were her best Latin scholar. Practically, however, it translates,--

"Come with us to Lilly White's room, and we'll show you a thing or two. But we mustn't all go together. If we do, the Fraulein will be popping down on us to be sure no mischief is brewing."

"I'll tell you what I will do; I will write in German 'No Admittance'

on a big placard, and put it outside my door. What is the German, girls?" "Nicht Zula.s.sung," said one of the girls promptly. "Write it, Lilly, in a big, bold hand."

They went together to Lilly's room; and she took a large square of pasteboard, and, without deigning to ask how the words were spelled, she printed in big letters:--

"NOTTZ ULLARSG."

"There!" she said, turning it triumphantly for the others to read.

Then she hung it on the outside of the door, moved a table to the door, planted a chair upon it, mounted into the chair, and peeped down through the transom to watch for the Fraulein's coming.

The others watched her, and all business for the time was suspended.

Pretty soon they heard the pattering of the Fraulein's little feet along the corridor, then the sudden halting before their door.

Lilly, with a beet-red face, and frantic gestures of two big red hands, motioned them to be still. They heard,--

"N--O--T--T--Z." A significant grunt; then again, "N--O--T--T--Z;" a pause. Again, "N--O--T--T--Z U--L--L--A--R--S--G."

"Hindoostanee? No; Indianee: Marione Parkee!" Then a little laugh, followed by,--

"Marione! Marione! Ope die Thur! What you mean, Nottz Ullarsg?"

"No admittance," said Lilly White through the transom. "Why, Fraulein, don't you know your own German?"

"Know my own German?" repeated the Fraulein slowly. "Know--my--own--German?

Nein! Nein! German, Lilly White! Nein Vater Land.

"Lilly White, open die Thur, quickest! My own German! Nein! Nein!

Nein!

"Marione Parke's Indianee!"

It was some moments before Lilly, the chair and the table, could be removed from the door, the Fraulein keeping up a series of impatient knockings while she waited.

Then Marion, as the one in whom she would feel the greatest confidence, was pushed to the small opening allowed, and told to say,--