The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation by Annie Fellows Johnston

LLOYD and Betty were starting to undress when there was a light tap at / the door, and Gay's head appeared. In response to their eager call, she / came in, and, shutting the door behind her, stood with her back against / it.

"No, I can't sit down," she answered. "It's too late to stop. I only ran / in to tell you that Maud got home about five minutes ago. 'Charlie' came / with her as far as the door and Madam has just sent for her to demand an / explanation. She told her roommate that she knew she was in for a / scolding, and that, as one might as well be killed for a sheep as a / lamb, she made her good time last as long as she could. After the / matinee they had a little supper at some roof-garden or cafe or / something of the kind, where there was a band concert. Then he brought / her out on the car, and they strolled along the river road home. The / moon was just beginning to come up. She's had a beautiful time, and / thinks she has done something awfully cute, but she'll think differently / by the time Madam is through with her."

"Will she be very terrible?" asked Lloyd, pausing with brush in hand.

"I don't know," answered Gay. "Nothing like this has happened since I / have been at the Hall, but I've heard her say that this is not a reform / school, and girls who have to be punished and scolded are not wanted / here. If they can't measure up to the standard of good behaviour, they / can't stay. As long as this is the first offence, she'll probably be / given another trial, but I'd not care to be in her shoes when Madam / calls her to judgment."

No one ever knew what passed between the two in the up-stairs office, / but Maud sailed down to breakfast next morning as if nothing had / happened. The only difference in her manner was when Lloyd and Gay took / their places opposite her at the table. They glanced across with the / usual good morning, but she looked past them as if she neither saw nor / heard.

"Cut dead!" whispered Lloyd. Gay giggled, as she unfolded her napkin. / "I'm very sure she has no cause to be angry with us. We are the ones / who ought to act offended."

Soon after breakfast they were called into Miss Chilton's room, but to / their great relief found that she already knew what had happened, and / that they were to be questioned only about their own part in the affair. / So presently Gay passed out to her Latin recitation, and Lloyd wandered / around the room, waiting for the literature class to assemble.

Miss Chilton's room was the most attractive one in the Hall. It looked / more like a cheerful library than a schoolroom. Low book-shelves lined / the walls, with here and there a fine bust in bronze or Carrara marble. / Pictures from many lands added interest, and the wicker chairs, instead / of being arranged in stiff rows, stood invitingly about, as if in a / private parlour. There were always violets on Miss Chilton's desk, and / ferns and palms in the sunny south windows. The recitations were carried / on in such a delightfully informal way that the girls looked forward to / this hour as one of the pleasantest of the day.

This morning, to their surprise, instead of questioning them about the / topic they had studied, Romance of the Middle Ages, she announced that / she had a story which Madam Chartley had requested her to read to them, / and she wished such close attention paid to it that afterward each one / could write it from memory for the next day's lesson.

"I have a reason for wishing to impress this little tale indelibly on / your minds," she said, "so I shall offer this inducement for / concentrating your attention upon it: five credits to each one who can / hand in a full synopsis of the story, and ten to the one who can / reproduce it most literally and fully."

There was a slight flutter of expectancy as the class settled itself to / listen, and, opening the little green and gold volume where a white / ribbon kept the place, she began to read:

"Now there was a troubadour in the kingdom of Arthur, who, strolling / through the land with only his minstrelsy to win him a way, found in / every baron's hall and cotter's hut a ready welcome. And while the / boar's head sputtered on the spit, or the ale sparkled in the shining / tankards, he told such tales of joust and journey, and feats of brave / knight errantry, that even the scullions left their kitchen tasks, and, / creeping near, stood round the door with mouths agape to listen.

"Then with his harp-strings tuned to echoes of the wind on winter moors, / he sang of death and valour on the field, of love and fealty in the / hall, till those who listened forgot all save his singing and the noble / knights whereof he sang.

"One winter night, as thus he carolled in a great earl's hall, a little / page crept nearer to his bench beside the fire, and, with his blue eyes / fixed in wonderment upon the graybeard's face, stood spellbound. Now / Ederyn was the page's name, an orphan lad whose lineage no man knew, but / that he came of gentle blood all eyes could see, although as vassal / 'twas his lot to wait upon the great earl's squire.

"It was the Yule-tide, and the wassail-bowl passed round till boisterous / mirth drowned oftentimes the minstrel's song, but Ederyn missed no word. / Scarce knowing what he did, he crept so close he found himself with / upturned face against the old man's knee.

"How now, thou flaxen-haired,' the minstrel said, with kindly smile. / 'Dost like my song?'

"Oh, sire,' the youth made answer, 'methinks on such a wing the soul / could well take flight to Paradise. But tell me, prithee, is it possible / for such as _I_ to gain the title of a knight? How doth one win such / honours and acclaim and reach the high estate that thou dost laud?'

"The minstrel gazed a little space into the Yule log's flame, and / stroked his long hoar beard. Then made he answer: