# By Sanction of Law/Chapter 2

Market Square, in that Northern city to which Colonel Lauriston had brought his daughter for her year of polish and cultural finish was a busy mart on this delightful August morning when they arrived. The change from the stifling heat of the South to the entrancingly cooling blue New England sky and sunshine had already worked additional wonders in the cheeks and eyes of this flower of the Carolinas. The former were delicately pink tinted and the latter wider opened at the sights unfolding to her in this new world; sights new to her but so common to this staid old University city that they passed unnoted and ignored.
To Lida, however, whose horizon up to this time had been bound by vast fields of growing cotton, corn and wheat, broken here and there by forests of oak and tall pines this was a veritable fairy land from which she could see the wide blue bay with ships coming and going, tugs busily puffing away with their monstrous loads at their sides or trailing along behind, the tugs seeming like and reminding her of ants about her own home who tackled and carted away loads many times larger than their seemingly frail bodies and who, for their strength had always been a source of wonder and marvel to the girl. She was also reminded, as she watched the small tugs with their buffers of plaited rope at their bows steam up to some giant craft, of pictures of buffalos she had seen, with bushily lowered heads charging across the plains.
​"Look, Daddy, aren't they wonderful? It doesn't seem as if they could pull those monstrous ships. How can they do it?" As she stood watching one of these little ants of the sea swing a ship of leviathan-like proportions from her slip, and point her down the bay, musical laughter of girlish delight rippled from her throat. Even Colonel Lauriston caught the spirit of his daughter and smiled happily as he enjoyed her chatter and comment, pleased that she was delighted and that he had been able to provide such joy for her. At her laughter also, even the matter-of-fact old New Englanders to whom such a sight was so common as to be beneath their notice paused, looked at the girl in her frank pleasure, then stopped also to enjoy the scene as if viewing it for the first time.
Colonel Lauriston stood for a few moments allowing Lida to take in the scenes that moved in panorama before her ere warning her that they had to finish their journey. As she stood gazing, entranced, down the harbor toward the sea, Colonel Lauriston, loathed to break the spell that held the girl, finally drew forth his watch and reminded her: "Come, Lida, Child, we must be going."
"Oh, Daddy, this is a wonderful place. I know I shall love it!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.
Without answering, Colonel Lauriston aided her into the taxicab that had been summoned when they alighted from the conveyance by which they had come from the train to the Square. He gave the address of their destination to the driver, then settled back, glad to see his daughter in such a happy mood. He had determined to place ​her in one of the most fashionable finishing institutions in New England, Miss Gregory's School for Girls, noted all over the country for the careful training and the standing given it among select schools, largely because of its proximity to one of the larger universities of the East, in the shadow of whose greatness this girls' school basked.
Nestling among the elms for which the city was famous, on a prominence around which the wealth and aristocracy of the city was grouped, the main building of Miss Gregory's school sat fronting a well kept lawn, the elms and lawn combining to create the picture of some monastery of heavy stone masonry. This structure had once been the home of an eccentric millionaire who toiled to accumulate, then erected this mausoleum in which he planned to pass his declining days overlooking the city below and amusing himself counting the passing small craft on the Seekonk River which passed the rear of his wide garden.
When the mansion was built it was then the fashion of New England aristocracy to acquire immense acres of land, build imposing structures on some prominent and well chosen part of it, fence in the entire plot with a high stone wall and make a fairy garden out of a portion of the enclosed land in the rear of the house, while utilizing the other part for garden purposes. Such had been the history of the ground now occupied by Miss Gregory's school. The entire plot covered some twelve acres with this threestoried cupola-studded castle-like building, now ivy overrun standing as a bar to entrance if viewed from the front; ​and like a monarch counting his fields if viewed from the distant rear. Running vines covered most of the stone wall, save at the corners where parapets like outposts were built.
In former years, as the cherry and pear trees ripe with tempting fruit stretched their tantalizing branches over the wall, every passing school boy on his way to swim cast longing eyes, but the height of the wall prevented any yielding to temptation. Also in the spring the garden seemed a veritable sanctuary for migratory birds who revel in the freedom of the place and its security as every breeze wafted to the street odors from blossoming flowers and trees.
Gradually as the city grew to and beyond the estate those who lived on the opposite sides of the streets bordering it were treated to the beauty within, their upper windows allowing clear view of the entire place.
The flowers and the gardens were still a feature as were also the birds in spring, but where there was otherwise silence and quiet now that Miss Gregory's school occupied the place, in the springtime and summer where bird songs once charmed and tempted the passerby to pause and listen, now there was the merry laughter of girls at fun. Where once the cherries and pears tempted passing boys now these were plucked from within by daring hoydenish girls, who once in a while in their daring peered over the wall at the passing city from their perches in the overhanging branches or sometimes dared discretion and the wrath of some instructor or governess to toss ​fruit to passing youth in a spirit of flirtation and in their exuberance of youthful spirit. When once the fruit was thrown there would be a bashful half-smothered scream and the youth would look up just in time to see a face quickly disappear.
It was to this school on Brook Street, that Colonel Lauriston brought his daughter after having carefully studied the catalogues of more than half a hundred institutions which offered to do for her what his ambitions had planned. The carriage drew up to the walk leading to the heavily carved, brass-knockered door and the two stepped to the street. A bevy of eager curious-eyed faces watched the Colonel and his daughter pass their luggage to attendants and then walk to the door.
The school was just in the midst of fall opening and older students were watching for the return of friends and the incoming of new pupils. As father and daughter reached the door it swung wide to welcome them and they were soon seated in a large high vaulted reception room while the servant sought Miss Gregory. Arrangements for the year were soon completed and Lida enrolled as a pupil.
Having installed Lida in the care of Miss Gregory and satisfied himself that she would be well protected, Colonel Lauriston departed. Miss Gregory, a small, calm, motherly-faced woman whose hair was but just tinging grey, whose popularity with her girl proteges was due to the sympathetic heart she possessed and the tactful way she had of persuading the girls to conduct themselves as she ​wished, formed a liking for Lida from the first meeting. The pupil from the South seemed so fresh and new to the great world into which she had come that her very shyness drew the sympathy of the educator and the two unconsciously became friends though friendship was unprofessed till later circumstances brought them together more intimately.
Lida was miserably lonesome at the departure of her father but as is the way with youth in good health these pangs were forgotten in the excitement of surroundings and new acquaintances except at night upon retiring and upon awakening. Then tears would come to her eyes despite her efforts at repression. At such times the world became utterly desolate till after she had been at the school a week Miss Gregory chanced to be passing her room and thinking the girl asleep touched her cheek with a caressing hand to find it moist.
Without a word she bent over the girl and kissed the tear spot tenderly. Impulsively Lida clasped her arms around the woman's neck and wept till her grief was spent while Miss Gregory soothed her nerves with cheering whispers. This experience cemented the friendship between the girl and woman more closely.
"Never mind, Child," Miss Gregory whispered. "Go to sleep. In the morning there'll be mail for you and you'll be happy."
As she spoke a great maltese cat, which had followed his mistress as was its custom, climbed to the girl's arms and began to purr softly, at the same time rubbing its ​nose against Lida's hand in a friendly way.
"There, now!" whispered Miss Gregory. "You're surely one of the family. See! Mopsie has adopted you and he's very particular as to his friendships. There aren't five girls in the school with whom he's on such friendly terms as he is with you at this moment."
Involuntarily the girl's hand moved over the fur of the cat's back and smiles replaced the tears. The cat, as if to prove his entire friendliness turned then lay down contentedly on Lida's arm to sleep under the stroking of the girl's hand.
"Well, I never!" exclaimed Miss Gregory. "I'll soon be jealous of you, Miss Lauriston. Mopsie never sleeps in any arm but mine." With that she kissed the girl tenderly on the cheek again. Lida held the hand to her cheek as she replied:
"I love you. You're kind and your kiss was just like my mother's used to be."
"You poor child!" was all Miss Gregory could say, though her heart was full of tenderness. "What you need is loving—and you'll have it."
As she spoke a flood of full harvest moonlight filled the room, enveloping the three, it seemed a place of enchantment and in this enchantment Lida soon slumbered her lonesomeness forgotten while the elderly woman's thoughts retraced the years to the time when she was a girl at school, her mind as flooded with the memories as the room was of moonlight. As the girl slept she tiptoed gently from the room back to her own apartment where she sat ​for many minutes gazing out of her window into the soft silvery-dewed night while memory conjured up romance after romance of other days.
Miss Gregory's predictions of letters for the following morning were true for when Lida awoke with the sun, refreshed as if out of a very pleasant dream, two letters on her dressing table attracted her. With a bound of gladsomeness and pleased exclamations she was out of her bed and kissing the envelopes in an abandonment of joy as she noted that both were from her father. Feverishly she opened both before reading either. One told of his arrival in New York and of his meeting with old friends whom he had not seen for years and the other mere personal, telling of his loneliness for her and his solicitation for her ease and health. It was truly a paternal letter, full of tenderness and cheer. Also was enclosed a check for spending money.
Miss Gregory was waiting in the doorway of her apartment as Lida started down the hall toward the stairway leading to the dining room when the summons for breakfast came. The former was wondering how the girl would act toward her after a night's rest; whether the experience of the evening had impressed the girl as it had her. Impulsively as Lida espied the matron she rushed to her and threw her arms about the woman in a girlish embrace. Involuntarily Miss Gregory gently placed the girl's head on her shoulder where it rested for a moment then the two started down the stairway together, Lida telling of her letters and the check.
​"I suppose you'd like to make a shopping trip after breakfast," was her smiling comment.
"I'd love to," was the enthusiastic reply.
"Very well, we'll organize a party and I'll chaperone you."
In the dining room the plan was announced and the invitation extended to any of the girls who wished to accompany them. Breakfast was replete with chatter relative to the tour and when the meal ended there were several who expressed a wish to go. The group started and by a ten minute walk down the hill on which the University stood they were in the shopping district and soon absorbed in their tour.
With the party was a girl who had been three years at the school, Louise Comstock, whose room was opposite that of Lida's and who because of being neighbors with the girl had been her most intimate companion about the school. These two made but small purchases on the trip and soon wearied of walking from store to store. Both she and Lida wished to return to the school or to simply walk about the streets down town. The others in the party, however, demurred, and after some debate it was decided by Miss Gregory that Miss Comstock and Lida should return to their rooms, the older girl being in charge of the newer.
The groups then separated at the Arcade, the two retracing their steps while the remainder of the party continued their shopping. Lida and Miss Comstock had reached Market Square and were chattering in delightfully girlish ​unmindfulness, greeting other passing and repassing groups of girls bent on similar errands. From time to time parties met and collected here and there obstructing the sidewalk and overflowing into the street busy in their world of youth and education, hailing and greeting each other, waving hands and smilingly exchanging introductions oblivious to all except their little worlds. Youth is all self center whether it is boy or girl youth and particularly college or higher school youth.
The scene was merry with a merriness that was infectious. Even staid business men were forced to smile patiently as youthful femininity elbowed them off the sidewalks and into the street in blissful thoughtlessness; others, accustomed to all this and similar scenes year after year paused in their peregrinations to recall days when they were equally full of vibrant life, health and optimism. The square was filled with happiness and smiles. Even the blue-coated police who seemed unusually numerous in the Square seemed happy.
Also the blue, undulating bay seemed to smile in the sunlight; to smile back to rows of hucksters whose teams flanked the bridge at the right and who hawked their wares to the passerby with varying tones and syllables that added to the crescendo of vocal utterances to be heard.
As the two girls started across the square for the climb up the hill to the school, from their left and around a corner from the direction of the railway station came the sound of band music and the tread of marching feet.