Tom boy

CHAPTER I. A ItAINY DAY

Every Wednesday the resident pupils at the Academy of the Visitation, in Georges Street, received their relatives and nearest friends, and they always looked forward to it from week to week with anticipations of great enjoyment, as it not only brought them fresh glimpses of the outside world, but a sight of the dear home faces, descriptions of the latest fashions and gayeties, and of the many changes that were taking place^ some bright, some very sad in their various circles; Hre girls ‘-who were there from a distance had their inti mates' 'at the academy whose friends always asked for them, so that although debarred the happiness of seeing their own kindred, they were permitted to go into the parlor where they shared the general enjoyment, and received much special kindness and attention from the visitors. The only really lonely ones in the house were three or four little South American girls, who could not speak a word of English, and were left to their own devices on Wednesdays, passing part of the day in the play-room,

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where they huddled together around the register, talking Spanish and eating bon-bons ; when tired of that, they wandered up and down through the long corridors, visited the great tropical plants in the library windows, and ended the day by going into the chapel where they said their beads and shed some home-sick tears. There was one person also, to whom the day was a stumbling block and a cross — old Sister Ursula the portress — who, by reason of being obliged to open and shut her window incessantly to answer the demands of visitors, and withdraw the bolt of her door to let the girls through, in and out of the parlor, besides numerous other distractions which gave her a buzzing in her head; was deprived of her daily visit to the Blessed Sacrament, and other special acts of devotion, and being only human, she sometimes lost patience and spoke sharply to the giddy young creatures as they rushed in and out, without a thought of anything beyond their own pleasures, looking upon nuns as beings hafi no\right to expect anything but trial's an(,U drosses}. which it was their duty to bear without complaint.

Many of the pupils from far and near, ignorant when they came of the strict rules of the academy about certain things, had brought with them handsome silk dresses, velvet spencers, laces, sashes, furbelows of various sorts, and articles of jewelry, supposing that they would be allowed to wear them on Sundays and holidays ; but they were told, to their infinite disgust, that all these fine things were utterly useless there, and would remain packed in their trunks under lock and key, in a room at the

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top of the house, unless they got permission to spend the holidays at home, or with friends designated by their parents, on which occasions only, they would be at liberty to wear them. All of the pupils wore a prescribed uniform, brown merino dresses in winter, black silk apron, linen collar and cuffs, and no jewelry except small plain ear-rings • and a watch (if they were fortunate enough to own one), but no chain or trinkets, only a plain black guard was allowed, and a knot of ribbon at the throat ; in the summer they wore black alpaca skirts, apron, and white cambric spencers ; but when it is remembered that these articles of dress were tastily and prettily made of nice materials generally, with appropriate trimmings, the girls looked far more attractive in their simple toilettes, than if bedizened in the fantastic styles worn by the votaries of fashion. But they grumbled none the less, and thought it especially hard that they could not “ dress up a little ” on visiting days. “ It could do no harm,” they argued, “to lay aside the uniform for a few hours, and not be obliged to go into the parlor before so many elegantly dressed persons, looking like servant girls.” Not that they did look in the least like servant girls, the very fact of their being quietly dressed and having on no finery prevented it, but that was the way they put it. However, the rules were strict, and they were obliged to submit with the best grace they might, and make the most of it, which the larger girls did by arranging their hair in the most frizzy and distracting style, especially on Wednesdays, and making a specialty of the knot of ribbon they were allowed to wear at the

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throat, which, if well-selected as to color and mate* rial, formed, with its long fluttering ends, a very effective addition to their toilette. Beside this, some of the nearly grown young ladies found consolation in perching a coquettish little bow of velvet or bright ribbon among the puffs and frizzes of their hair, which, as there was no law laid down to make it contraband, remained unnoticed by the • good sisters. This Convent school, with its variety of characters representing all classes, individualities, and temperaments, was a world in itself. There were one hundred and thirty girls of various ages, resident pupils of the academy, who were to be educated, watched over with incessant care morally, intellectually and physically ; there were rules general and particular to be enforced for their well-being and advancement ; and numberless cares, as well as ceaseless vigilance, to be exercised in their culture and training by the good nuns whose faithful performance of their duties gave them small rest, and whose successful fulfilment of their responsibilities, even while it brought their school into the highest repute, imposed upon them a cross from which, even daily use brought them no relief.

It was within a few weeks of Christmas, and Wednesday had been expected with more than usual eagerness by the girls, large and small ; there was so much to be thought of in that time, so many things to be got, so much to be done ; they wanted to hear about their new holiday dresses, plan about their home entertainments, arrange matters relating to tableaux and private theatricals ; in fact, their fancy was so full of these anticipated delights that

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a complaint 'reached the directress that the pupils were shamefully remiss in their studies, whereupon she arose one morning in the class-room, and made them a brief little speech to the effect that unless they resumed their diligence forthwith, there should be no going out at Christmas. It was a sudden douche , but they knew that she always meant what .she said, and it had the desired effect.

Wednesday came at last, the Wednesday so hoped for, but the sun arose behind thick masses of gray clouds through which not a ray of brightness penetrated ; and when the girls filed out of the chapel from Mass, they observed as they crossed the covered porch to their part of the academy that it was raining, and it continued to rain until the refectory bell rang for breakfast, when, as if waiting for the signal, it poured down in such cataracts of water as to afford one a realizing sense of how it must have been once upon a time when “ the windows of heaven were opened and the floods descended.” Sister Ursula, aching with rheumatic pains, consulted the barometer, and with devout thankfulness observed : “ Steady rain it says, and the wind from the east ; the old joints feel it, but, thank our dear Lord, we shall have no distractions to-day.”

But in the refectory, up and down the tables, were many faces that wore a look of disappointment, and although it was “talk day” at meals, the usual merry chatter and ripples of laughter were unheard, and the sound of the rain lashing and beating against the window panes rendered almost inarticulate the complaints they uttered, and the fervent hopes expressed that it might clear off.

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The good sisters who presided at the tables tried in their pleasant, kindly way to soften the general disappointment, by admonishing the girls that this was a good opportunity to gain merit by cheerful resignation, and was a beginning by which to take a step in preparing themselves for the greater disappointments of life that lay before them. But they were in no mood for moral reflections, and the lesson had but small weight.

“ It is our day,” said these young rebels against the ways of Providence, “and it is a hard case to be cheated out of our pleasure by a storm that would have done just as well yesterday or to-morrow.”

“ But was not yesterday somebody^ day, and will not to-morrow be also ? There are more people in the world than ourselves, why should they be disappointed for us ? Come, let us go to the play-room ; perhaps you may be able to find some way of amusing yourselves,” said Sister Agnese, rising from the table. They all loved the patient-faced, gentle nun, and it was always a great treat to them whenever she joined them, but now the charm of her presence was scarcely felt, and was quite powerless to restore the cheerfulness of the malcontents. Some of the Smaller and two or three of the older girls gathered around her in the play-room as she sat there stitching up some Agnus Deis she had embroidered herself, talking the while of interesting incidents that had come into her experience before she was a nun, until they were won to forgetfulness of the storm. Several, on finding that their ill-humor had not the slightest effect on the weather, went upstairs to get their little red

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morocco trunks, which contained their silks, worsteds and fancy work, and returned with them to the play-room to try and while away the time in the intricacies of crochet and embroidery, while they related to each other in confidential tones such news as had lately come to them by letter or otherwise ; and little bits of school gossip, of which there was never a dearth. Two tall, fine-looking girls, their faces full of the glow of health, were having a game of battledore and shuttlecock, at the farther end of the spacious room, and gathered quite an excited ring around them, by declaring they meant to keep the bird up to three hundred. They had already sent it back and forth over a hundred times, and the interest in the success of the game grew to such a pitch that the spectators betted sugar plums freely on the result. Some of the first-class girls, who wished to shine in music during their Christmas holiday out, went off to harp and piano, glad of an extra practice ; some sauntered up and down the long apartment, others lounged on the benches as if life was without aim or purpose to them ; quite a group assembled in the library for a long cosy “ read,” and when Sister Ursula went into the chapel at noon, she saw quite a number of devout young souls with sweet, recollected countenances, reverently bowed before the mighty and compassionate Presence abiding in the tabernacle, where we will leave them in their silent communion with Heaven, to return to the play-room.

“ What is the matter with you, Bessie Shaw ? you sit doubled up there against the wall moping as

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if yon hadn't a friend in the world ! " said a bright-faced, saucy-looking girl to another.

“ Is'n't such weather enough to make an angel mope? it's just horrid! perfectly horrid!" answered the one called Bessie Shaw, with an expression of bitter disgust.

“ Does it ever rain in St. Louis ? " asked the other, laughing.

“ You know it does, Maggie Ward ; but I wasn't mewed up in a convent in St. Louis, and if I wanted to go out when it rained like this, I had a carriage to go in. It is perfectly hateful ! "

“ What ! a carriage ? "

“ Don't be such a simpleton. People who have never been used to carriages don't feel the want of them," was the answer, with a toss of the head.

“ Maybe they don't, but for my part I just hate them, and if I can beg off I never drive with mamma. I'd rather be in a cart filled with clean straw, and go bumping along over the country roads, for there's some fun in that, than be stuck up in a carriage where I have to sit still and behave like f prunes and prisms' all the way."

“ I declare, I never heard of such low tastes, Madge Ward ; but maybe your carriage is shabby, and you're ashamed to ride in it."

“ Shabby ! oh laws ! It's fine enough for a circus turn-out, and mamma has two flunkies in livery on the box ; coat-of-arms on the panels, and whistles, and check-reins, and spring seats, and a pair of the* handsomest horses — I dote on horses — but papa's like me, he hates to go out in it, he says it makes him feel like a fool," said Madge Ward,

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laughing so merrily as to show her deep dimples and white, even teeth at once.

“ How very funny ! What's the reason, I wonder ? "

“ Oh, I don't mind telling you or anybody else in the least. Papa's the jolliest, best man alive, and I love him dearly, but then you know he made his money selling groceries ; that is, he kept a shop, and used .to drive his own wagon round with parcels, and he's proud of it, for although he sold out when he'd made money enough, he got the man to promise to let the old sign stay up, and there it is yet, though somebody has picked off the first letter, and I reckon the others will follow, for it is a perfect eye-sore to mamma."

“ Why don't she get the man to paint them out ?"

“ It can't be done, my deary, because, the letters are carved, and put on somehow raised an inch above the sign board, and all gilt ; then you know the man would object, for it's an old stand, papa says, and the old customers stand by the old sign."

“ I think your mamma is right. But what a funny girl you are ! I wouldn't tell everybody if I were you ! "

“ I would, I don't care a single snap. I don't like to sail under false colors and get myself snubbed for my pains. If people don't like me for myself, I don't want to be liked. Why don't you get your box and finish that smoking-cap for your cousin ? I'm going to get my embroidery, I'm tired of doing nothing."

“ You can get yours if you like. You are so dis-

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agreeable to-day, Madge Ward,” said Bessie Shaw, putting up her lip, while her cheeks wore a heightened color.

“1 thought I was making myself very agreeable ! '' answered the other laughing.

“You're mistaken, that's all. I'm not going to do a single thing to-day ; it's hateful, rain, rain, nothing but rain. But look there ! '' she added, with something like interest ; “ where «did that strange child drop from ? '' .

“ Where ? Oh ! I see her now sitting on the bench by the door ; what a forlorn looking mouse it is.''

“ Did you ever see so common-looking a creature ! How horrid it is to be mixed up with children of that class. She must be some beggar-woman's child, nobody seems to know her*.''

“Suppose you go and make her acquaintance ! She does look funny, with her hair skewed up in two tight little pig-tails, and her big shoes full of patches.''

“ I'm going to have some fun with her ! '' said Bessie Shaw.

“ Let the poor little thing alone, Bessie ! ''

“ I won't,'' was the reply, as she uncurled herself from her corner and sauntered down the room to where the strange child was sitting, and staring around like a frightened hare.

“ Where did you come from, little girl ? " asked Bessie Shaw, as she stood in front of her, and fixed her eyes in a broad stare on her face ; while the child, with flushed face, straightened herself up, and folded her hands primly in her lap, half fright-

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ened to find herself the object of attention to such a nice-looking, pretty young lady.

“ From town. Miss.”

“ A town in the moon?”

“Are there towns in the moon, surely Miss?” asked the child, with simple curiosity.

“ Didn’t you know that, you little dunce? I’m afraid your education has been neglected.”

“ I never was at school before! ”

“I should think not. When did you come?”

“ This morning, Miss.”

“Did you swim here?”

“No, Miss, the milk-man fetched me; he lives next door to my mother's.”

“I thought somebody must have 1 fetched ' you. Does your mother sell apples? ”

“ No, Miss; ” said the child, looking now with large grave eyes full in her interlocutor's face, as if it had suddenly dawned upon her simplicity that she was being made fun of.

“What does your da — your father do?”

“ My father's dead,” was the low-voiced reply, while the large gray eyes suddenly fell.

“Are you a charity girl?”

“I don't know what you mean. Miss! "still in low tremulous tones.

“ What's your name, then, I suppose you know that?”

“Nora Kinsella.”

“Are you Irish?”

But before Nora could answer, a tall, dark-eyed girl who had overheard the conversation as she stood a few moments after entering the play-room

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to disentangle her plain watch guard from her sleeve button, said:

“You have a very pretty name, Nora Kinsella.” The few words were kindly spoken in a pleasant voice that had a ring of true goodness in it. “ Would you not like to come with me, Nora, to look at some pretty pictures?”

“Indeed and I would, Miss, it's all so strange to me here,” said the child, hurrying to stand close to her, placing her hand in hers.

“ I declare, Hester Milburn, you do set yourself up to do the strangest things! ” exclaimed Bessie Shaw, angrily. “ I have always been taught that it was extremely rude to interrupt a conversation.”

“ Yes, I know, it is a very ill-bred thing, there's no mistake about that , Bessie; but do you call what you were saying to this child conversation? If you do, I have yet to learn the meaning of the word. Come, Nora Kinsella, let us go,” said Hester Milburn, leading her little protegee out of the play-room, while Bessie Shaw returned flushed and angry to where Madge Ward awaited with some curiosity to hear all that had passed.

“I do declare!” she exclaimed, throwing herself back in her old corner, “ I never, in all my life, saw any one take such airs on herself as Hester Milburn does. Did you see how she marched up and took that little clodhopper off, just as I was getting some fun out of her? ” Then she related all that had passed.

“I don't see how you could talk to the poor little thing so, but I tell you what, I'm glad it was you instead of me. I don't fancy Hester Milburn much.

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but she’s one of the head girls, and every one respects her — fact is I’m a little afraid of her! ”

“Afraid! and respect! You do more than I do then. She’s always prying round, and telling on the girls,” said Bessie Shaw, in a spiteful voice.

“ Oh, pshaw! Come now! that’s going a little too far for me. She’s too good and too proud to do such mean things,” exclaimed Madge.

“ Who is? ” asked a young girl who had joined them.

“ Hester Milburn, I say, is too good and honorable to be a sneak,” answered Madge, warmly. “Don’t you think so too, Ada Gray?”

“I don’t know, maybe she is, but what’s the matter? ” She was told, and her sympathies were evidently with Bessie Shaw.

“And the airs she puts on! Any one would suppose she was as rich as Croesus,” said Bessie, quite elated.

“It’s not her fault if people are foolish enough to think so, for I’ve heard her speak of herself as being poor, and expecting, after she graduates, to support herself by her own exertions,” said Madge, warmly.

“She puts on airs about her family, then!” said Ada Gray.

“I don’t know about that; if she does she has a right to, because I’ve heard papa say that she’s come of the best blood in the country. But good gracious! what nonsense we are talking, to be sure. Good-by, I’m going up to the work-room for my embroidery.”

Chapter II. A Ghost

Ok her way to the library,' holding Nora Kinsella’s chubby, hard little hand in the soft, friendly grasp of her own, Hester Milburn stopped at each of the windows* that lighted the long hall on one side that led to it, to show her the great broadleafed tropical plants in the large garden vases, one in each embrasure; while even the pale light that shone through them, brought out rich crimsons, vivid greens, broad dashes of gold, purple shades and delicate rose-hues that nestled coyly here and there between the darker tints of brown and russet. The plants bore no flowers, but the rich and varied colorings of the leaves supplied the deficiency. The little Irish girl had seen dahlias, roses, lilacs, pinks, and other sweet-smelling, old-fashioned flowers; but these large, superb tropical leaves, were perfect marvels to her.

Then they went into the library where several of the young ladies were reading, and going to the upper end of it, which was just now deserted, Hester opened a very large book that rested on an upright stand, and, turning over a page or tw T o, revealed to Nora Kinsella's astonished eyes, pictures of birds painted so true to life that she was half wild with delight, imagining at first that they were

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real and asking a hundred or more questions, which were patiently and pleasantly answered.

“ There he is,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands and laughing merrily; “he’s a swallow and lives in our chimney, and sometimes. Miss, the little ones fall out of bed, and it’s great fun to hear ’em all fluttering and having a great talk — their sort of talk — over it; but the old birds get ’em back to bed, somehow.”

“ Yes, I have heard that each of the old birds take hold of a wing of the unfortunate tumbler and manage to fly up the chimney With him to their nest. They’re regular little chimney-sweeps, are the swallows. ”

“So they be,” answered Nora, with a quiet little laugh; “but see. Miss, there’s my cunning little wren, and you should hear how she and her mate whistle and twinkle all day long, under the eaves, in summer.”

“I like to hear them, too, Nora; but see! here’s a stupid, strange fellow, who makes a horrible noise sometimes when he should be asleep,” said Hester, turning over another page.

“And is he alive. Miss?” she asked, drawing back a step, for the owl was as large as life, and, as the saying is, “twice as natural”; “or is he stuffed like the one my father shot in the tree by our house?”

“No; this is a picture like the rest,” said Hester, laughing.

“I never saw such pictures, then; they look just like I could take hold of a feather and pull it out. Oh! here’s my sweetheart bluebird,” exclaimed

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Nora, smoothing the painted plumage of her favorite with the lightest possible touches, as if she feared it might suddenly fly away.

“Do you like this the best?"

“Indeed and I do, then; for he seems to speak to me out of the sky when he flies far up, whistling so soft, where you can’t see him. I used to lie under the apple trees in the spring, among the grass, listening and watching for him all day; then, when I’d hear him away, way up, I’d answer him, and he’d answer me back.’’

“That was nice fun; but is your home in the country?’’

“No, Miss; leastways, it wasn’t then. But my granny lives in the country, and I used to be sent there sometimes to see her; but I didn’t like it much when I had to stay, except when I was under the apple-trees or out in the woods," answered Nora, while a shadow stole over her face and tears gathered in her eyes.

“You were lonesome, I suppose?’’

“No, I wasn’t. Miss, for there were plenty of pigs and chickens and a snow-white calf to play with, but she was cross, and would scold me betimes just for nothing at all; and now that my father’s dead and gone, my mother and my lame brother Teddy are going to live with her in the country. She’s got a horse and a cow, Miss, and heaps of chickens and ducks, and goes to market with vegetables and eggs and things to sell, but she’s very old, and my mother’s going to help her.’’

“Is Teddy younger than you?’’

“ Oh, no, Miss; he’s older by three years; but he

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just comes to my shoulder and walks upon crutches. His hack got hurt when he was a baby, and he don't grow like other boys; but I'm glad he’s going to stay at granny's, for the noise of the streets used to hurt his head here in town; and there it is very quite,* except when the cars come by; but he'll like to watch them, 'specially of nights when they're all lit up, and the engine looks like a great fiery dragon tearing along, screaming and whooping. Then, in the .summer time, you know, he'll have the birds and all the sweet smells from the grass and flowers; and there'll be the chickens and geese. Oh, it'll be a good thing for Teddy, anyhow."

“ How does it happen that you are left behind, Nora?" asked Hester, amused as well as interested by the child's simple talk.

“ The Sisters said I should stay here, Miss, and go to school; but if I am glad not to go and live with my granny, — I — I — don't like p-par-parting with — my own — own mammy, a-n-and poor — little Teddy," sobbed Nora.

“ Never mind, don't cry; most of the girls you see here are away from their mothers and fathers. I am," said Hester, wiping the tears from Nora’s cheeks with her own handkerchief.

“ We're very poor. Miss; that's the reason my — my — poor mammy had — to break up. She's not strong — she's had many bad turns since father died; the saints help him."

“What a good thing it is, then, for your mother and poor little Teddy to have a nice home in the country to go to," said Hester, to comfort her.

* Quiet.

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“But granny’s so cross, Miss; that’s the bother. If you heard her scold once ; it’s like a corn-mill going round in the air, sure, for she scolds in Irish, and even the pigs run when she begins.”

“Did she ever beat you, Nora ?”

“ Never, Miss.”

“ Does she always give you enough to eat ?”

“Indeed and she does ; full and plenty.”

“ Do you have a nice bed to sleep in when you are there?”,

“She’s got the beautifullest feather beds — geese feathers they be — and linen sheets she spun and wove herself when she was young in Ireland ; and she’s got blankets, and quilts, and everything ; and, indeed, Miss, she’s not close-fisted a bit ; but I tell you she’s cross, and that’s all about it.”

“ Maybe she has aches, and pains, and troubles to think over that make her cross, when in her heart she is really kind,” suggested Hester.

“She says she’s got rheumatiz. Miss, and her joints do get all swelled up and purple sometimes.”

“Then she’s cross ?”

“ As two sticks, Miss.”

“ Does she complain ? ”

“ No, Miss, she scolds in Irish.”

“Ah, well, don’t you see, Nora, that it’s the rheumatism that does it,” said Hester Milburn, laughing. “ Come, we won’t look at any more birds to-day ; I’m going to the chapel a little while ; then to the Odeon to my harp practice. Shall you like to go?”

“ Indeed and I will, Miss. My granny often says

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there’s no music like the Irish harp in the whole world.”

“So I have heard, Nora; but mine is not an Irish harp, although it makes very lovely music.”

“I’m sure it does, Miss, when you play on it,’ ; said the ready-witted, warm-hearted little thing, with the quiet tact and grateful impulse of her nature.

“ This is the chapel door,” said Hester Milburn, pausing an instant before entering, to give Nora a moment for recollection. The sacred beauty of the silent and holy place fell with tranquillizing sweet" ness on the excited heart of Nora, who knelt down, crossed herself devoutly, and said five “ Hail Marys ” for her granny, almost convinced by Hester’s logic that it teas the rheumatism, and not a bad heart, that made her so cross at times; then she said five more for the repose of her father’s soul, and five for her mother and little lame Teddy.