The Girl from Montana - Page 67/133

She fell into the habit of staying overnight in a town, and then riding on

to the next in the morning; but now her clothes were becoming so dirty and

ragged that she felt ashamed to go to nice-looking places lest they should

turn her out; so she sought shelter in barns and small, mean houses. But

the people in these houses were distressingly dirty, and she found no

place to wash.

She had lost track of the weeks or the months when she reached her first

great city, the only one she had come near in her uncharted wanderings.

Into the outskirts of Chicago she rode undaunted, her head erect, with the

carriage of a queen. She had passed Indians and cowboys in her journeying;

why should she mind Chicago? Miles and miles of houses and people. There

seemed to be no end to it. Nothing but houses everywhere and

hurried-looking people, many of them working hard. Surely this must be

Philadelphia.

A large, beautiful building attracted her attention. There were handsome

grounds about it, and girls playing some game with a ball and curious

webbed implements across a net of cords. Elizabeth drew her horse to the

side of the road, and watched a few minutes. One girl was skilful, and hit

the ball back every time. Elizabeth almost exclaimed out loud once when a

particularly fine ball was played. She rode reluctantly on when the game

was finished, and saw over the arched gateway the words, "Janeway School

for Girls."

Ah! This was Philadelphia at last, and here was her school. She would go

in at once before she went to her grandmother's. It might be better.

She dismounted, and tied the horse to an iron ring in a post by the

sidewalk. Then she went slowly, shyly up the steps into the charmed

circles of learning. She knew she was shabby, but her long journey would

explain that. Would they be kind to her, and let her study?

She stood some time before the door, with a group of laughing girls not

far away whispering about her. She smiled at them; but they did not return

the salutation, and their actions made her more shy. At last she stepped

into the open door, and a maid in cap and apron came forward. "You must

not come in here, miss," she said imperiously. "This is a school."

"Yes," said Elizabeth gravely, smiling. "I want to see the teacher."

"She's busy. You can't see her," snapped the maid.

"Then I will wait till she is ready. I've come a great many miles, and I

must see her."

The maid retreated at this, and an elegant woman in trailing black silk

and gold-rimmed glasses approached threateningly. This was a new kind of

beggar, of course, and must be dealt with at once.