For a time Elizabeth strove to live up to her lofty position. The fear of even yet being sent back to Mary's class, which Miss Hillary held over her as an incentive1 to working fractions, drove her to make desperate efforts even to learn spelling. Rosie helped her all she could, and Rosie was a perfect wonder at finding royal roads to learning. If you could spell a word over seventeen times without drawing your breath, she promised, you would be able to repeat it correctly forever after. Elizabeth tried this plan with "hieroglyphics," but reached the end of her breath, purple and gasping3, with only fourteen repetitions to her credit. She attributed her failure to spell the word the next day to this, rather than to the fact that, in her anxiety to accomplish the magic number, she had changed the arrangement of the letters several times.
But as the days passed, and the danger of being returned to the Third class disappeared, Elizabeth relaxed her efforts and returned to her habitual4 employment of drawing pictures on her slate5 and weaving about them rose-colored romances. Another danger was disappearing, too. Miss Hillary, finding that Forest Glen School was not hatching rebellion, gradually became less vigilant6, and there was in consequence much pleasant social intercourse7 in the schoolroom.
Of course Elizabeth, like the other pupils, found that one could not always be sure of the teacher. She might never notice a slate dropped upon the floor, provided one took care to drop it on a day when she didn't have a nervous headache. But on the other hand, if one chose one's occasion injudiciously, she might send one to stand for half an hour in the corner, even though one was a big girl, now going on twelve.
But Rosie found the key to this uncertain situation, also. Rosie's farm joined the Robertsons', where Miss Hillary boarded, and the small, observant neighbor discovered a strange connection between her teacher's headaches and the actions of a certain young gentleman from town. She explained it all to Elizabeth one day, behind their slates9, when the complex fraction refused to become simple.
Rosie was very solemn and very important. Martha Ellen Robertson had told her big sister Minnie all about it, and Rosie had heard every word. Miss Hillary had a fellow, only Elizabeth must promise for dead sure that she'd never, never tell. Because, of course, anything about a fellow was always a dreadful secret. This young man was very stylish11 and very handsome, and he lived in Cheemaun, and, of course, must be very rich, because everybody was who lived there. He came out nearly every Sunday in a top-buggy and took Miss Hillary for a drive. Minnie and Martha Ellen both said it was perfectly12 scand'lus to go driving Sundays, and the trustees ought to speak to her. The young man wrote to Miss Hillary, too, for every Wednesday she went to the post-office, and Mrs. Clegg said she 'most always got a letter. But sometimes she didn't; and the important point for themselves was just here—Rosie grew very impressive—they had to watch out on Mondays and Thursdays, if the young man didn't come, or if the letter failed, for then sure and certain Miss Hillary would go and get a headache and be awful cross and strict. Yes, it was true, because Jessie Robertson, and Lottie Price, and Teenie Johnstone, and all the big girls said so. And Jessie Robertson had promised to tell them so they could be careful, and Lizzie could just look out and see if she wasn't right.
Elizabeth did look out, and found as usual that Rosie was correct. Rosie was so wonderful and so clever that, though she was only half a year older than her friend, the latter lived in constant admiration13 of her sagacity. For, as far as worldly wisdom was concerned, Rosie was many, many years older than the precocious14 Elizabeth.
The young man of the top-buggy soon became a fruitful source of gossip in the schoolroom, especially amongst the older girls. Jessie Robertson, who lived right at the base of supplies, issued semi-weekly bulletins as to whether they might expect a headache or not, and Forest Glen conducted itself accordingly.
So, having settled exactly the periods of danger, and finding that often Mondays and Thursdays were days of happiness and license15, Forest Glen settled down securely to its intermittent16 studies.
Elizabeth soon ceased to trouble much even over spelling, and she and Rosie gave themselves up to the fashion of the hour. And every hour had its fashion. For like most rural schools, amongst the girls at least, Forest Glen was a place of fads17 and fancies.
No one ever knew just how or why a new craze arose, but there was always one on the tapis. At one time it was pickles19. No one could hope for any social recognition unless one had a long, green cucumber pickle20 in one's dinner-pail—the longer the pickle the higher one's standing21. Fads ranged all the way from this gastronomic22 level to the highly esthetic23, where they broke out in a desire for the decorative24 in the form of peep-shows. A peep-show was an arrangement of flowers and leaves pressed against a piece of glass and framed in colored tissue-paper. Every girl had one on her desk; even to dirty, unkempt Becky Davis. Elizabeth was not a success at such works of art. She was a wonder at inventing new patterns, and gained recognition from even the big girls by suggesting a design of tiny, scarlet25 maple26 leaves, green moss27, and gold thread. But when it came to construction, she left that to Rosie and took to drawing new designs on her slate. No one could compete with Rosie anyway. She had something new and more elaborate each morning.
But the craze for peep-shows was superseded28 early in Miss Hillary's reign29 by an entirely30 new fad18, such as had never manifested itself before in any marked degree in the school. Miss Hillary, quite unwittingly, started it herself.
It was a warm, languorous31 afternoon in October, and time hung as heavily over the heads of the pupils as the mists hung over the amethyst32 hollows and sunny hills of Forest Glen. It was Thursday and Miss Hillary was writing at her desk. Lottie Price, the biggest girl in school and the most curious and observing, wrote a note to Teenie Johnstone to say she bet anything the teacher was writing to her fellow. Lottie knew, because Miss Hillary often looked straight at you and didn't see you at all. That was a sure sign. In the back seat, John Gordon and the Pretender, as everyone now called Charles Stuart, were silently but busily whittling33 away, constructing part of a wonderful new kind of ground-hog trap. Elizabeth had filled one side of her slate with an elaborate picture of a castle on a hill, a stream, a lake, a ship, and an endless vista34 of town and road and church-spire stretching away into the distance. She had never heard of that school of artists that painted the classic landscapes, but she belonged to them as surely as any of the old Italian masters. She was now drawing Mrs. Jarvis in a trained gown standing on the steps of the castle, while Elizabeth Joan of Arc Jarvis Gordon, blowing a bugle35, came riding down a perpendicular36 mountain-path on a stiff-legged steed. Rosie had just housecleaned her desk for the second time that day. She had rubbed all the ink-spots off the top and put a new paper frill around the ink-well. She was re-arranging her books once more and had them in an unsteady pile on the edge of her desk, when Elizabeth leaned over to her side, to display her finished landscape. Rosie's arm came against the toppling pile of books, and they went crashing to the floor.
Miss Hillary looked up. The two culprits sat up very straight and made a frantic37 show of figuring on their slates. For Jessie had reported no letter that morning, and who knew what might happen? The teacher arose frowning, and Rosie made a desperate dive towards the truant38 books, but Miss Hillary stopped her. Then, to the amazement39 and relief of the two tremblers, she began to rebuke40, not Rosie, but Joel Davis! Joel was a big, sleepy, fat boy who sat opposite the two little girls, and the books had bounced over towards his seat. No boy was a gentleman, Miss Hillary stated, who would allow a lady to pick up anything that had fallen. She was grieved, after all the lessons she had given in manners and morals, to find that one of her pupils could be so lacking in refinement41. Joel would, therefore, please gather up Rosie Carrick's books, and put them on her desk, as a gentleman should always do for a lady.
Joel scratched his shaggy head in perplexity, and gazed sleepily at his teacher, then at the debris42 of books and pictures and tissue-paper squares that littered the floor. He muttered growlingly43 that a kid like Rosie Carrick wasn't no lady anyhow; but he good-naturedly scooped44 up an armful of the fallen, and without moving himself unduly45 reached them out towards their owner. The school giggled46, poor Rosie blushed, and in a spasm47 of embarrassment48 strove to take them. Between them the books once more descended50 to the floor in an avalanche51 of gayly-colored cards and papers. Rosie stooped for them, so did Joel, and their heads bumped together. The young gentleman, now blushing as furiously as the young lady, grasped the books in a promiscuous52 heap and slammed them down upon Rosie's desk with, "There now, butter-fingers." The school laughed aloud, and Rosie curled up behind the pile of books and cried with vexation. Joel Davis was such a horrid53, horrid, dirty, fat boy that it was just real nasty mean of Miss Hillary to let him pick up her books, so it was. Elizabeth, all sympathy, patted her comfortingly, and twisted one of Rosie's curls round her fingers as she whispered soothing54 words.
But Miss Hillary was again talking, and she slid over to her own side of the seat and gave scared attention. It was time she gave another talk upon manners and morals, the teacher declared, and Elizabeth's heart sank. She knew she had no manners to speak of, and on Sundays she was often doubtful of her morals. And when Miss Hillary gave semi-monthly lectures on these two troublesome subjects they caused her acute misery55. But to-day the address was chiefly to the boys. Evidently it was only the masculine side of the school that was lacking in manners and morals. Miss Hillary declared she must strive to inculcate a spirit of chivalry56 in them, and teach them the proper attitude towards girls.
Elizabeth gave a sigh of relief. This was no concern of hers, except that she devoutly57 hoped it might make John and the Pretender stop pulling hair. So she gave her attention to softly taking down the longest words the little lecture contained. Miss Hillary had gone sufficiently58 far on the road of understanding to make this safe. She sometimes even glanced approvingly at her disciple's flying fingers when she uttered a polysyllable of more than usual distinction. Rosie came from behind her shelter of books, and, wiping away her tears, attempted to help Elizabeth. There was a word that Lizzie had missed, she cautioned. Something like "shivering"—a spirit of shivering or "shivaree." But Elizabeth, in the midst of "gallantry," shook her head. That was just chivalry. She knew all about that. It was a glorious word that took in Ivanhoe, and the ladye that went ower the border and awa', and Joan of Arc, yes—and Elizabeth herself. But there was no use trying to explain it to Rosie, for, though Rosie was the dearest dear that ever sat with anybody in school, there were many things that even she did not understand.
Meanwhile, the talk on manners and morals had drawn59 to a close and Elizabeth went back to her classic landscape and Rosie to her house-cleaning. But the effect of the lecture did not end there. Hector McQueen, who was the handsomest boy in the school, as well as the only one who was really well-behaved, gave Rosie Carrick the tin dipper before he drank himself, at the pump the next day. Wully Johnstone's Johnny followed by opening the gate for Sissy Clegg one morning, which was quite gratuitous60, for Sissy always climbed the fence anyway. Soon the older boys were vying61 with each other in acts of gallantry. The spirit of chivalry had been awakened62 and it took effect in a way the teacher had not anticipated.
For a time Elizabeth was all unconscious of the turn affairs were taking. John and Charles Stuart were not the kind who attracted attention by acts of elaborate politeness, and other boys did not enter into her world. So it was a great surprise to her one morning, when Rosie whispered, as she packed away her latest peep-shows in the desk, that the girls were not going to make any more; they were going to have beaux instead.
"Bows?" queried63 Elizabeth absently, all absorbed in a winding64 river, a moat, and a drawbridge. "Aunt Margaret won't let me have one, I know. Will they wear them on their hair?"
Rosie dived down behind her slate and her curls shook violently with convulsive giggles65. Elizabeth had no idea what the joke was, but laughter was always contagious66, and she got behind her slate and giggled, too; so loud, indeed, that Miss Hillary—it was Monday and the top-buggy had not come out from Cheemaun—rapped sharply on her desk and looked very severe. The giggles subsided67 immediately, but when a safe interval68 had elapsed Rosie explained the nature of the bows, and another spasm ensued.
"What are they going to have them for?" asked Elizabeth, drying her eyes on her pinafore. She could understand one desiring a bow on the hair, but what would be the function, either useful or ornamental69, of the kind Rosie indicated was hard to understand.
Rosie twisted one of her curls coyly. "Oh, just because," she explained. "All the girls are getting them."
Elizabeth became interested. "Have you one, Rosie?" she whispered, and Rosie tossed her curls and giggled, but gave no answer. Elizabeth looked puzzled. Often Rosie seemed so old and wise and far away, making her feel as if she were Jamie's age.
"How do you get one?" was the next question.
"Oh, my goodness!" giggled Rosie. Such ignorance did not admit of any enlightenment. "They just—come," she explained vaguely70.
The Junior Fourth class was being called forward and there was no more opportunity for explanations. But, as they passed up the aisle71, Elizabeth noticed Rosie flirt72 her curls and glance towards Hector McQueen's seat, and Hector's admiring eyes followed Rosie all the way to her class. "Is yours Hector McQueen?" Elizabeth whispered as soon as they reached their scat again, and Rosie nodded radiantly. Elizabeth was both proud and pleased. She did not know much about boys, apart from John and Malcolm and the Pretender. All outside this list were classed in her mind as "other boys," and were an unknown waste. But Hector McQueen, everybody knew, was quite the nicest boy in school. It was just like Rosie to carry off the prize.
As the days went on, Elizabeth, now fully73 awake to the fashion of the hour, noticed that Rosie had been quite right—"all the girls" had beaux. Even big, untidy Becky Davis was receiving attentions from Noah Clegg, Junior. She furthermore discovered that your beau brought you apples and butter-nuts to school. That you trimmed his hat with colored maple leaves at recess74, and always chose him as your partner in games; that he wrote you notes in school, when Miss Hillary was answering her Wednesday letter, and you wrote back; and, above all, that the other girls wrote your name and his side-by-side on a slate, struck out all the common letters, and over the remainder chanted, "Friendship, Love, Hatred75, Marriage." If the result on both sides was satisfactory, there was nothing more to be desired.
Elizabeth noticed all this commotion76 and felt rather forlorn. Personally she would have preferred very much not to have a beau. It was something quite unnecessary; but then one hated to be different, and she was the only girl in her class, except Eppie Turner, who was too shy to speak to a boy, who was in a beauless state. Rosie, in her loyalty77, felt Elizabeth's undesirable78 condition and strove to better it.
"I'll tell you, Lizzie," she advised one day. "You pick out a boy and I'll cancel your names and then you can have him for your fellow."
Elizabeth looked about her reluctantly. This was a most distasteful task. Yet, when pickles were the fad, though green cucumbers made her deadly sick, she had always had one in her desk; so surely a beau could not be worse. Rosie followed her eyes trying to assist. "You must have somebody older than yourself," she admonished79, as her chum's eyes rested fondly on the row of little fellows in Archie's class. Elizabeth sighed; to have Rosie's little, curly-headed brother Dicky for one's beau would have been perfectly lovely. She glanced further down the aisle. Rosie indicated those who were "taken." The rights of property were strictly80 observed and there were no flirts81 in the Forest Glen School.
Suddenly Rosie exclaimed joyfully82: "Why, I know who you'll have, Lizzie, Charles Stuart MacAllister, of course. Nobody's took him or your John, but you couldn't have your brother." But Elizabeth shook her head hopelessly. No, never, never. She would go down to history as the only unbeaued girl in Forest Glen School forever and ever before she would have Charles Stuart. Why, she had tried him. Yes, she really, truly had, long ago last summer. He'd been her beau for most nearly an hour. But it hadn't worked at all. He had told her she had green eyes right after she had promised to marry him, and she didn't like him anyway. Rosie looked disappointed. Couldn't she just cancel their names anyway? But Elizabeth was obdurate84. No, she couldn't. Besides there was one boy whom she liked just a teenty, weenty bit, if Rosie would promise really, truly she'd never, never tell. Rosie snuggled up to her joyfully, making wholesale85 promises that sure certain, cross her heart, she'd never think of it again. Well—Elizabeth made her confession86 hesitatingly—it was—Charlie Peters.
Rosie drew back with a gasp2 of dismay and bit her lip. Now every girl in Forest Glen School knew that when another girl took her lower lip between her teeth and looked sideways, girl number one had done or said something requiring a deadly reproof87. Elizabeth was startled. "Why not?" she asked anxiously.
Rosie looked at her helplessly. Lizzie was so queer about some things. Poor, dirty Charlie Peters! What in the world had possessed88 her? He was a quiet, sickly boy, who came from a place away back in the swamp where his father worked a portable saw-mill. He was always unkempt and ragged89; his long, straight hair clung round his pale face and his right sleeve hung empty, his arm having been cut off in the mill when he was quite little. Elizabeth could not explain the fascination90 that poor Charlie's empty sleeve had for her, nor the great compassion91 his pale face and his pitiful efforts to write with his left hand raised in her heart. But he aroused far more interest in her mind than all the "other boys" put together. Rosie argued the matter, but at last consented. A dirty, ragged sweetheart was perhaps after all better than none. "Besides it doesn't matter much," she concluded practically. "'Cause it's only to tease you about, and cancel your names." She added cautiously that Lizzie had better not tell anybody else, it would be a secret between them, thus loyally saving her friend from public disgrace.
Elizabeth consented, and Rosie wrote Elizabeth Jarvis Gordon and Charles Henry Peters on her slate and performed the necessary ceremony. It turned out quite satisfactorily, and Rosie's next duty was to chant the usual incantation over the buttons of her friend's pinafore:
"Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,
Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief."
There were just eleven buttons, which brought the ominous92 result, "beggar man." Rosie gave herself up to renewed dismay, but Elizabeth grew more joyful83 every moment. It would be very romantic to marry a beggar man, and likely poor Charlie would have to be one, seeing he was so sick and had only one arm. It would be just like the story in the Chronicle, of the lovely Lady Evelina, who ran away with the coachman, and he turned out a count! She accordingly set to work at her slate, and drew a picture of herself riding up in all her grandeur93 of velvet94-cloak, armor, and spear to rescue a ragged, one-armed boy from an enemy's camp. Elizabeth's instincts were right, the touch of self-sacrifice she dimly divined was necessary to make an act of perfect heroism95.
For the next few days Rosie lived in distress96, lest Elizabeth's unfortunate love affair became public and both she and her chum be disgraced. But, before disaster could descend49, Elizabeth's clouded destiny changed to one of dazzling splendor97 in the most miraculous98 way.
One morning there appeared in school, with Noah Clegg, Junior, a new boy; a wonderfully handsome boy, in a black velvet suit and broad white collar, altogether such a magnificent creature as had never before been seen in Forest Glen.
He had not been in school ten minutes before everybody knew all about him, Hannah Clegg proudly giving the information. He was from Cheemaun. His name was Horace Oliver, and his father was a rich lumberman. The Cleggs had supplied Mrs. Oliver with fresh butter and eggs for years, and Hannah herself had been at their house, which was a very magnificent mansion99 on the hill overlooking the lake. He had a sister older than himself, whose name was Madeline, and she had four silk dresses besides dozens of other kinds. And this Horace had been sick, so when Hannah's father and mother went into town with the butter and eggs on Saturday they had brought him back with them to stay on the farm and drink plenty of milk until he should get strong again.
The new boy was the center of interest during the morning. The girls were all admiration, and the Cleggs rose in popular favor, to be the envied of all the school. Enthusiasm amongst the boys was much milder. John Gordon and Charles Stuart MacAllister were scarcely enthusiastic at all. John privately100 informed his friend that any fellow of twelve—and he must be that if he wasn't thirteen—who would wear a white collar and velvet rig-up like that to school must be a baa-lamb, and ought to stay home and sit on his mother's knee. The Pretender discovered, to their further disgust, that the stranger could play a piano. This innocent accomplishment101 raised a strange feeling of irritation102 in the breast of Charles Stuart. He mentally resolved to watch the new boy, and if he showed signs of becoming too popular he would take him out behind the woodshed and settle him.
But to the school, as a whole, the new boy was all that could be desired. Even Miss Hillary shared in the popular adulation and smiled upon him at every chance. He was such a nice boy, no teacher could resist him. He had evidently been brought up on morals and manners, for when Miss Hillary dropped her brush he sprang from his seat and handed it to her before she could stoop for it.
Altogether things went very pleasantly that first day, so pleasantly that in the afternoon Lottie Price dared to hold up her hand and ask if they mightn't have a spelling match. Now no one had ever heard of such a thing on any day but Friday, and Jessie Robertson and Teenie Johnstone nudged each other. Lottie Price was the most disagreeable girl in Forest Glen School; indeed, all the Prices were noted103 for their capacity for making mischief104. Lottie had not spoken to the girls in her class for three days, and her two chief rivals understood this move for a spelling match. Jessie whispered to Teenie that it was just like Lottie Price. She was the best speller in the school and wanted to show off before the new boy.
To the surprise of most, Miss Hillary smilingly granted the request. Jessie, however, nodded her head significantly. She wasn't surprised, not she. Why, the top-buggy had come early in the morning yesterday and stayed both to dinner and tea, and she thought it was just horrid mean of Lottie Price, so she did. She had done it just because she knew Jessie couldn't spell.
Meanwhile, the spelling match was being arranged. Of course, Lottie was sent as captain to one side, and then Miss Hillary asked would the school choose a boy for captain on the other side. A swarm105 of hands went up, and almost unanimously the new boy was chosen.
This was indeed a triumph for Lottie, and as the two took their places she swept a glance of disdain106 towards a seat where two young ladies sat gazing with averted107 faces far out of the window.
Rosie was "mad at" Katie Price, so she also stared in the opposite direction. But Elizabeth never had time nor opportunity to quarrel with anyone, and she gazed at Lottie with frank admiration, and wished she could spell half so well. It seemed such a pity that the grand stranger should find out so soon how stupid she was. She was always chosen the very last in a spelling match, except when Mary or Rosie happened to be a captain and selected her for private reasons.
The captains were in place, and Miss Hillary smilingly nodded to Lottie. Since the age of chivalry had dawned, the girl-captain in a spelling match was always given the first chance to select. Lottie hesitated. She had her beau, but he could not spell, and her bosom108 friend, but they had vowed109 never to speak again so long as they both should live. Miss Price was too wise to allow sentiment to injure her campaign, but too bad-tempered110 to permit any magnanimity to assist it. Therefore, she called Hannah Clegg. No one ever quarreled with the Cleggs, not even the Prices; they were too good-natured. Besides, Hannah was a fair speller.
Miss Hillary nodded approvingly and turned to the boy, who was standing regarding the sea of strange faces in a puzzled manner. He had been relying upon Hannah as first choice. Miss Hillary came to his aid. "Now, Horace, you are in a rather difficult position, as you do not know who are our best spellers. So you may call up anyone you like who will help you in your further selection." The visitor's face brightened. He looked right across the school and electrified111 everyone by calling out, "Elizabeth Jarvis Gordon."
The owner of the name could not believe her ears. She had to be poked112 twice by Rosie before she finally arose and took her place beside the velvet boy, overcome with wonder. It was as though one had suddenly been called out to be a Joan of Arc without any warning. Lottie Price giggled. Everyone knew Lizzie Gordon couldn't spell c-a-t without a couple of mistakes, and she saw her victory assured.
But there was one thing Elizabeth could do, and that was name all the spellers in the room. Who knew them as well as she, when each one was a reproach to her? When the velvet boy's turn came, he looked at her and she proved a fine support. Rosie came first, of course, but then Rosie not only knew every word in the Complete Speller, but was a Complete Speller herself in curls and a pink pinafore. John and Charles Stuart were next. Elizabeth was devoutly thankful she could ask them with a clear conscience. She longed for Susie Martin and Eppie Turner also, but Susie had had five mistakes yesterday, and Eppie seven; it wouldn't be fair to the velvet boy. An exalted113 position, she realized, brought heavy responsibilities. She really made a very fine campaign, for she had almost all the Senior Fourth girls at her command, seeing that Lottie disdained114 to call them. She whispered their names to Horace, and as he summoned them to his ranks Lottie's face grew dark with anticipation115 of defeat.
At last everyone in the three highest classes was on the floor and the battle began. From the first the sullen116 face of the lady-captain, and her rapidly thinning ranks, showed upon which side the laurels117 were likely to rest.
Of course Elizabeth fell at the second volley, but as she left, overcome with humiliation118, the velvet boy whispered: "Never mind. It was a beast of a word." Further comfort came to her when he himself went down on the next word and smiled at her sympathetically. But they left behind them plenty of veterans to carry on the war, and at last Lottie was left alone and there still stood on the other side a splendid array of six, headed by John Gordon. It was the hour for closing, and Miss Hillary announced the spelling match won by Horace Oliver; and Lottie Price almost tossed her head out of the window, the girls declared, as she passed Jessie and Teenie on her way to her seat.
When school was dismissed, the new boy paused at Elizabeth's seat, where she and Rosie were putting their books together.
"I remembered your name," he said triumphantly119.
"How did you?" asked Elizabeth, amazed.
"Papa told us. Do you remember my papa? He was out here one day last summer with our lawyer. His name's Mr. Huntley. Mr. Huntley calls you 'Queen Elizabeth.'"
It was all clear to Elizabeth now. So that jolly, fat man, who didn't seem to care whether Eppie and her grandpa kept their farm or not, was the velvet boy's father; and the nasty man who was trying to take it from them was his friend. And, further, this must be the dreadful bad boy whom Sarah Emily called the "Centipede," and for whom she used to iron all day, and whose mother was so proud and haughty120. She felt rather disillusioned121. She wished, too, that he hadn't said "papa." She was afraid John and Charles Stuart would do something violent if they heard him.
But when Elizabeth reached home that afternoon, and Mary related all the day's exciting experiences, to her surprise, her aunt seemed almost joyful. She even smoothed Elizabeth's hair, and said she had behaved very discreetly122. Mrs. Jarvis might hear about her from the little boy, when she returned, and perhaps something might happen. Further, she was sure the little Oliver boy was a gentleman and had a genteel bringing-up. Elizabeth looked vastly pleased, but John hung his head and scowled123, and Sarah Emily snorted quite out loud. When supper was over, Annie drew Elizabeth away from the others and questioned her.
"Did the Oliver boy say anything about Mr. Huntley—or—or anyone else?"
Elizabeth understood perfectly. There was a strong tie between these two since the younger sister had delivered a certain precious note with such care and discretion124. Elizabeth knew who "anyone else" meant. No, the velvet boy had not said anything about other people; but to-morrow she would ask him.
The velvet boy proved a source of valuable information, being very willing to talk. Of course, he knew Mr. Coulson. He had often seen him in Mr. Huntley's office; he was fine fun and could tell dandy stories. And Mrs. Jarvis, for whom Elizabeth was called, was his mamma's aunt. She was ever and ever so rich, and was away in the Old Country now, just pitching her money around, mamma said; and she might have taken her and Madeline along. Aunt Jarvis was very fond of Madeline, and mamma said she would be sure to leave her and Horace all her money when she died, though why she couldn't give them a little more of it now, was something she couldn't understand.
All this information and more, Elizabeth carried home, distributing it judiciously8 where it was most appreciated. She found that any news of Mrs. Jarvis warded125 off a scolding, and when a torn pinafore or unusually untidy hair made her dread10 her home-coming, she made Horace walk with her as far as Eppie's bars and gathered from him sufficient news of the great lady to insure her a welcome from her aunt.
Meantime in school she was living in a new world. She was wonderfully popular. There was no more talk of a poor makeshift for a beau like Charlie Peters. All the girls in the school canceled her name with that of the velvet boy, and Rosie was so proud because Katie Price was so envious126 that she fairly hugged Elizabeth for joy.
But the latter was not altogether happy. Of course it was fine to be the chosen one of the boy from town, but there were drawbacks. Horace was not strong enough to play baseball, and his mamma had forbidden him to play shinney, so he always stayed with the girls at recess, which was often very inconvenient127 when Elizabeth and Rosie wanted to teeter by themselves or stay indoors and tell secrets. Then, too, John and the Pretender teased her unmercifully. They called her beau "Booby" Oliver and said he should have been a girl. She took his part valiantly128, but she did wish he wouldn't say "papa" and "mamma," it made her ashamed of him.
On the whole, Elizabeth was not sorry when his two-weeks' visit to the Cleggs' ended and he went back to Cheemaun. Rosie did not regret his departure either; he had served his day. For there was no doubt the age of chivalry was drawing to a close. Winter was coming on and the mantle129 of squire130 of dames131 was slipping off the boys' shoulders. The spirit of chivalry did not thrive in the day of snowballs.
The first news of the change in affairs came to Elizabeth, as usual, through Rosie. The latter confided132 to her friend that she didn't believe she liked Hector McQueen half so well as she used to. He had just been horrid mean only that morning. He had thrown a snowball right at her. Of course he didn't hit her, but she was mad at him, so she was, and if he wrote her a note she just wouldn't answer it, see if she would.
This was but one indication of the decay of chivalry. There were many others, and at last it was swept away altogether in a new fashion that shortly broke out. Jessie Robertson's uncle from Vancouver came home, bringing all the Robertsons presents, Jessie's being an autograph album. She brought it to school and each of her friends proudly inscribed133 their names therein, attached to verses sentimental134 or otherwise.
Within a week every girl in the Fourth Book had an autograph album, even if it were only one made of foolscap and trimmed with tissue-paper such as Rosie made for Elizabeth. It proved far more interesting and twice as tractable135 as a beau. A new era dawned in Forest Glen, an age of learning, when one racked one's brains to compose a poem for a friend's book, and the age of chivalry was forgotten.
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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5
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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6
vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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7
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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8
judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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9
slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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10
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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11
stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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12
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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13
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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14
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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15
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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16
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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17
fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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18
fad
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| n.时尚；一时流行的狂热；一时的爱好 | |
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19
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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20
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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21
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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22
gastronomic
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| adj.美食（烹饪）法的，烹任学的 | |
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23
esthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的；悦目的，雅致的 | |
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24
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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25
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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26
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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27
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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28
superseded
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| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
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29
reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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30
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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31
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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32
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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33
whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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34
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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35
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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36
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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37
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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38
truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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39
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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40
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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41
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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42
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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43
growlingly
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| adv.怒吠，吼，咆哮 | |
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44
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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45
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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46
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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48
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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49
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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50
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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51
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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52
promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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53
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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54
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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55
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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56
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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57
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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58
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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59
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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60
gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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61
vying
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| adj.竞争的；比赛的 | |
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62
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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63
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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64
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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65
giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66
contagious
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|
| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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67
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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68
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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69
ornamental
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|
| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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70
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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71
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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72
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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73
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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74
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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75
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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76
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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77
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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78
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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79
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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80
strictly
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|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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81
flirts
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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82
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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83
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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84
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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85
wholesale
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|
| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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86
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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87
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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88
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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89
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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90
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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91
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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92
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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93
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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94
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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95
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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96
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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97
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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98
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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99
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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100
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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101
accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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102
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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103
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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104
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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105
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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106
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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107
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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108
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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109
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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110
bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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111
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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112
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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113
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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114
disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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115
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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116
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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117
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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118
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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119
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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120
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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121
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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122
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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123
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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125
warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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126
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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127
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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128
valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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129
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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130
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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131
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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132
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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133
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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134
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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135
tractable
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| adj.易驾驭的；温顺的 | |
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