On Agate Hill (23 page)

S
UNDAY
S
CHEDULE

The Gatewood Academy

8:00
A.M.
Breakfast bell

8:30
A.M.
Breakfast and morning prayers

10:00
A.M.
Dress review

10:15
A.M.
Procession to church services, Hopewell

11
A.M.
Church services

1:00
P.M.
Sunday dinner (with dessert)

Afternoon time for reflection and reading of Bible or appropriate Sunday school books (Family and family friends permitted to visit.)

6:30
P.M.
Cold supper

7:15
P.M.
Procession to evening church services, Hopewell

R
OLL OF
B
OARDING
S
TUDENT
, 1873

Gatewood Academy

•  •  •

Selections from the Journal of

M
ARIAH
R
UTHERFORD
S
NOW

Headmistress, Gatewood Academy

July 1, 1873

Today I commence this journal with:

1. The Desire to cleanse & purify my own black soul, so oft beset by demons & thoughts too Dark to tell.

2. The Hope of greater Resignation to my lot, for what woman was ever more fortunate in being given such an opportunity to be of service? I struggle to be worthy of my Role.

3. The Intention of Living so that Death may never pay an unexpected Call, as I have awful fears of Death, deriving I know not whence, yet tormenting me to distraction though all the while I must put on a cheerful face for the sake of my children, my students, & for Dr. Snow who requires it, & rightly so.

4. The Determination to curb my Temper, Impatience, & Nervousness. Ah, why was I not blessed with a sunny disposition, like my sister Agnes? Why must I worry a thing to death?

F
OR
N
O
O
NE’S
E
YES

July 8, 1873

And yet no sooner am I under way with this program than I am sorely tested, presented with a scholar so unlikely as to try me in every respect, she having come to the Academy late & under most peculiar Circumstances. I cannot help but blame Dr. Snow for this, as it is he who arranged her admission entirely, telling me virtually NOTHING about it in advance save that
Agnes should travel along with the girl’s guardian to fetch her. “Who is this girl?” I asked. “Who is this guardian?” but to no avail. Dr. Snow was writing a sermon as usual, & could not be disturbed. Now it appears that Simon Black, the aforementioned Guardian, served as one of the Iron Scouts in Wade Hampton’s army; hence he can do no wrong in the eyes of Dr. Snow, who apparently made his acquaintance during the War. Never mind that I ran this entire Academy perfectly well during Dr. Snow’s absence, with the school overflowing & showing a profit at the bank. But now—NOW, how dare he call me the Headmistress yet refuse to allow me the right of participation in even such a basic decision as this one? Truly I am his Servant, NOT his Partner, whether he owns it or not. Basically Dr. Snow does nothing but read, while I work my fingers to the bone, yet have Nothing to say on any topic, him determining all according to his whim though he understands nothing, I repeat NOTHING about the administration of this Academy or anything else.

Good Lord, forgive me. Forgive me. Help me gain greater Understanding & Acceptance, oh Lord. Help me keep these thoughts to myself, & to this Journal.

But as for the girl:

I could smell her hair the minute Agnes brought her before me. I must say I have never seen a more unkempt specimen within the walls of this Academy. I attempted to converse with her but she would not speak, hanging her bedraggled curly head all the while, rubbing her dirty bare feet on our nice carpet. She would not even look at me.

What Manner of child can this be? I was wondering when in came Dr. Snow with the man he introduced as Simon Black, Molly Petree’s Guardian & Benefactor. Immediately my attention was riveted by this unusual individual, dressed all in black, yet with white beard & mustaches. He swept his hat off his head & bowed low to the floor, startling me. Indeed, I was entirely unnerved by these exaggerated manners. It was almost like a performance; I suspect he is not a true gentleman.

“Ah!” he said, catching me off my guard. Then “Mrs. Snow,” as if he had been searching for me all my life. He looked straight into my eyes, on a level with his own, as I am a Tall Woman. “I sense already that you will be just the one to take Molly Petree in hand. With the least bit of encouragement and structure, I feel that she will prosper, for she is a very bright girl.”

I looked askance at that tangle of hair & those bare scuffed feet. “Well, we shall see,” I heard myself saying, though I had intended to reject her out of hand by suggesting, albeit delicately, that her obvious lack of Social Skills might make her uncomfortable at this Academy.

As Mr. Black smiled, which almost seemed to pain him, I became conscious of Dr. Snow hopping about below us as if he were a dog leaping up for a bone. He can be so annoying at times. He yapped about “business” & “terms.” I felt myself flushing, a problem I have had of late; it is very embarrassing.

“Take her on, then, Agnes,” I said. “Tell Delia to run a bath.”

But Agnes colored up herself, thrusting a fat envelope into my hands. “Here is my report, Sister,” she flung back over her shoulder as she dragged Molly Petree from the room. “You had better read it.”

“Wait!” Simon Black crossed the room in an instant, blocking the door. “Molly,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “Listen to me. You are safe here, & I believe you will prosper. Mrs. Snow will keep me informed as to your needs & your progress. She will know how to contact me at all times. Now I urge you to work hard, & make the most of your Opportunities. Look at me, Molly”—which she would not do, Ungrateful Girl! Mr. Black touched her chin, tilting it up. There was something shocking in this gesture. From my angle of vision, I could not see her face, only his, which wore an expression of strange intensity. “Ah yes,” he said, as if to someone not there, not in the room with us at all, “How she favors Alice.” I do not believe he meant to speak these words, which I found both incomprehensible & bizarre. “You will be fine, Molly,” he said to the girl. “Now you will be just fine.”

But Molly jerked her head away from his hand & bolted through the door, poor Agnes at her heels.

I sat down to read the “report” while Simon Black & Dr. Snow retired to
his little outdoor study to “talk Business.” But you had better believe I was there in no time, knocking on the door!

There they sat drinking Whisky. I might have known. Simon Black jumped up at my entrance.

“It will not do,” I said straight out. “No sir, it will not do. I refuse to have this girl come here, she will sully the other girls. Poor Sister Agnes may be too dim-witted & naïve to understand what she witnessed at Agate Hill, but I understand it all too well. Whatever her degree of complicity may have been, it is clear that Molly Petree has undergone experiences of a Compromising Nature. We do not run a home for Wayward Girls, sir.”

“But what about damaged girls? I was led to believe that this is a Christian establishment of charity, of love . . . Am I mistaken then?” Simon Black asked respectfully in his deep voice.

Of course I was taken Aback. “Yes, but—” I began.

Then Dr. Snow stood up with that red face I know all too well. “This will be entirely enough, Mariah,” he said. “Miss Petree has been admitted to Gatewood Academy today, & she must be outfitted immediately. You & Agnes will see to this. Mr. Black wishes that no outward distinction can possibly be made between Molly Petree & the others. Have I made myself clear?”

I thought of the shoes & hats to buy, the bolster, the pillows, the trunk— the sheets & linens to make, not to mention her clothes! The gymnasium outfit would have to be fitted & made from scratch, for instance, as we have no more made up & available at this time. I sent the last one by post to a girl from Wilmington yesterday. “It is impossible,” I said firmly. “The girls will arrive in only four weeks. There is no time. And there is nowhere to put her, in any case.”

Simon Black bowed over my hand which he took in both of his. “You will find a way. I trust you implicitly, Mrs. Snow,” he said. I found him quite Presumptuous.

I looked at Dr. Snow, who narrowed his eyes at me with an Expression I recognized.

“You had better get busy, Mariah,” he said. Then to Simon Black, “Do you remember Kemp? from Spartanburg? A very good man—”

So it is done! And I am left with a wayward, sullen girl on my hands, a girl who could be the ruination of all my hard work in establishing this Academy. I shall take her, then, but I shall keep an eye on her, for well I know: one Bad Apple can spoil the entire Barrel.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia