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Concerning Belinda Part 4

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"I think he's a poet," Amelia whispered, "or maybe a musician--one of the high-strung, quivering kind, don't you know." They all knew.

"They're so sensitive--and responsive."

Amelia spoke as though a host of lute-souled artists had wors.h.i.+pped at her shrine and had broken into melody at her touch.

"Like as not he's only a nice American fellow. My cousin Sam at Yale sings like an angel. All he has to do is sing love songs to a girl and she's positively mushy."

Amelia looked reflectively at the last speaker.



"Well, I wouldn't mind so much," she said. "If he lives on this block his folks must be rich."

"Some day, some day,"

yearned the tenor voice.

"Some day I shall meet you."

"My, won't it be exciting when he does," gurgled Kittie.

"Does he do this every night?" Serena asked. This was her first entrance into the romantic circle.

"Five nights now," Laura May explained. "Amelia was just sitting in the window Wednesday night playing and singing, and somebody answered her.

Then they played and sang back and forth. We were awfully afraid the servants in the kitchen would hear it and report, but they didn't. It's been going on every night since. We're most afraid to go outside the house for fear he'll walk right up and speak."

"He wouldn't know you."

Amelia turned from the window to look scornfully at the sordid-souled Serena.

"Not know me! Why, he'd feel that I was The One, the moment he saw me.

It's like that when you love this way."

She pillowed her chin on her arms again and stared sentimentally into the back yard.

"Only this, only this, this, that once you loved me.

Only this, I love you now, I love you now--I lo-o-ve you-u-u now."

The song ended upon a high, quavering note just as the retiring bell clanged in the hall.

The visiting girls waited a few moments, then reluctantly scrambled to their feet and started for their rooms. But Amelia still knelt by the window.

"I'm positive he has raven black hair and an olive complexion," she said to Laura May as finally she drew the shade and began to get ready for bed.

The next morning the Youngest Teacher took the girls for their after-breakfast walk. Trailing up and down the streets at the tail of the "crocodile" was one of the features of the boarding-school work which she particularly disliked; but, as a rule, the proceeding was commonplace enough.

For a few mornings past Belinda had noticed something unusual about the morning expedition. She was used to chattering and giggling. She had learned that the pa.s.sing of a good-looking young man touched off both the giggles and the chatter. She had even forced herself to watch the young man and see that no note found its way from his hand to that of one of the girls; but this new spirit was something she couldn't figure out.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "For a few mornings past Belinda had noticed something unusual about the morning expedition"]

In the first place the girls developed a mad pa.s.sion for walking around the block. Formerly they had begged her to ramble to Fifth Avenue and to the Park. One saw more pedestrians on the avenue than elsewhere at that hour of the morning; and, if one walked to the Park, one might perchance be late for chapel and have to stay out in the hall until it was over.

But now Fifth Avenue held no charms; the Park did not beckon. Round and round the home block the crocodile dragged its length, with Amelia and Laura May at its head and Belinda bringing up the rear. Men were leaving their homes on their way to business, and every time a young man made his appearance upon the steps of one of the houses on the circuit something like an electric shock ran along the school line and the crocodile quivered from head to tail.

The problem was too much for the Youngest Teacher. She led her charges home in time for chapel, and meditated deeply during the morning session.

Late on that same afternoon Belinda was conferring with Miss Lucilla Ryder when the maid brought a card to the princ.i.p.al.

"'Mr. Satterly'--I don't know the gentleman. What did he look like, Katy?"

"Turribly prosperous, ma'am."

"Ah! possibly some one with a daughter. Miss Carewe, will you go down with me? I am greatly pressed for time. Perhaps this is something you could attend to."

Belinda followed the stately figure in softly flowing black. Miss Ryder always looked the part. No parent could fail to see her superiority and be impressed.

The little old gentleman who rose to greet them in the reception-room was not, however, awed by Miss Lucilla's gracious elegance.

He was a corpulent, red-faced little man with a bristling moustache and a nervous manner; his voice when he spoke was incisive and crisp.

"Miss Ryder, I presume."

Miss Ryder bowed.

"This is Miss Carewe, one of our teachers," she said, waving both Belinda and the visitor toward seats.

Mr. Satterly declined the seat.

"I've come to ask you if you know how your pupils are scandalizing the neighborhood," he said abruptly.

Belinda jumped perceptibly. Miss Ryder's lips straightened slightly, very slightly, but she showed no other sign of emotion.

"I am not aware of any misconduct on the part of the young ladies." Her manner was the perfection of courteous dignity. Belinda mentally applauded.

"It's scandalous, madam, scandalous," sputtered the old gentleman, growing more excited with every second.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'It's scandalous, madam'"]

"So you observed before, I believe. Will you kindly tell me the nature of the offence?"

"Clandestine love-making with the As...o...b..lt's coachman--for five nights, flirting out of windows, singing mawkish songs back and forth to each other till it's enough to make a man sick. My daughters hanging out of our back window to hear! Nice example for them! Nice performance for a school where girls are supposed to be taken care of!"

A faint flush had crept into Miss Ryder's cheeks. A great awakening light had dawned in Belinda's brain.

"Amelia," she murmured.

Miss Ryder nodded comprehension.

"She's so romantic, and she supposed it was Prince Charming."

Again the princ.i.p.al nodded. She was not slow of comprehension.

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