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Updated: June 5, 2025
No urging was needed and lots were promptly drawn for the privilege of cutting the fate cake. Mrs. Bonnell had not considered it necessary to mention the fact that she had ordered Aunt Sally, the cook, to bake one for the occasion, and while good fellowship and hilarity reign below let us follow two less fortunate mortals whom the witches seemed to have marked for their sport that night.
Bonnell to do some shopping, have some photographs taken, see the dentists and what not, so the riders were reduced to Sally, Aileen, Petty Gaylord, Hope MacLeod, a senior, and Beverly. All were well mounted and each was looking her best in her trim habit.
"Who goes there?" one of our own scouts challenged smartly. We had arrived at the nick of time. Three rails were up. Two of them were easily found. The third was discovered by beating the bush thoroughly. Bonnell and I ran back for tools, and returned at full trot with crowbar and sledge on our shoulders.
After I had admired for some time the beauty of our moonlit line, and listened to the orders as they grew or died along the distance, I began to want excitement. Bonnell suggested that he and I should scout up the road and see if any rails were wanting. We travelled along into the quiet night. A mile ahead of the line we suddenly caught the gleam of a rifle-barrel.
He was talking about young Bonnell, of whom you spoke last night. Said his mother was cured when the doctors couldn't do anything. You know her, eh?" "As well as if she were my own flesh and blood." "Is it a fact, what they say?" "She was considered incurable. I know nothing about the rest of it. Nat was telling me yesterday.
Nevertheless, that was precisely the situation, and Miss Stetson and Miss Bayliss were Miss Woodhull's mirrors. Sally soon found Mrs. Bonnell and together they hurried up stairs. But Mrs. Bonnell was no more successful in getting a response to her calls than the girls had been. "Sally, can you climb?" she asked. "Yes, Mrs. Bonnell," answered Sally wholly bewildered.
Miss Stetson, the teacher of mathematics was in keen sympathy with Miss Woodhull, as was Miss Forsdyke the Latin teacher, and Miss Baylis, the teacher of history and literature, but Miss Dalton the gymnasium and physical culture teacher, and Miss Powell who had charge of the little girls, sided with Mrs. Bonnell as did Monsieur Santelle, and old Herr Professor Stenzel.
There is Mr. Derwent Mr. Follansbee Mr. Weeks " "Hush, mother!" ejaculated the girl in disgust. "Exactly. I knew you would say they were too old, or too bald, or too short, or too fat. I've been a girl myself. Of course there is Nat Bonnell, and a lot more little waves and ripples like him, but they always were out of the question, and now they are ten times more so.
"I think you know better than that," returned the other calmly. "How long since?" asked Mrs. Evringham. "Three months." Silence. "Aren't you glad for her?" asked Bonnell with a slight smile of curiosity into the disturbed face. "I ought to have told you at first that osteopathy did it; then after your joy had subsided, break the truth gently."
Bonnell, the matron, and real head of the house; a sweet lovable, gracious Southern gentlewoman whose own family and fortunes had vanished when she was a tiny child, but who had grown up with relatives in whose home love ruled supreme and in which the little Veronica Dulany had blossomed as a flower.
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