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Linux Device Drivers Development

Develop customized drivers for embedded Linux

John Madieu

BIRMINGHAM - MUMBAI
Linux Device Drivers Development
Copyright © 2017 Packt Publishing

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the
publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the accuracy of the
information presented. However, the information contained in this book is sold without
warranty, either express or implied. Neither the author, nor Packt Publishing, and its
dealers and distributors will be held liable for any damages caused or alleged to be caused
directly or indirectly by this book.

Packt Publishing has endeavored to provide trademark information about all of the
companies and products mentioned in this book by the appropriate use of capitals.
However, Packt Publishing cannot guarantee the accuracy of this information.

First published: October 2017

Production reference: 2010818

Published by Packt Publishing Ltd.

Livery Place
35 Livery Street
Birmingham
B3 2PB, UK.

ISBN 978-1-78528-000-9

www.packtpub.com
 Credits

Copy Editors
Author
Juliana Nair
John Madieu
Safis Editing

Reviewer Project Coordinator

Jérôme Pouiller Judie Jose

Commissioning Editor Proofreader

Gebin George Safis Editing

Acquisition Editor Indexer

Gebin George Rekha Nair

Content Development Editor Graphics

Devika Battike Kirk D'Penha

Technical Editor Production Coordinator

Swathy Mohan Arvindkumar Gupta
 About the Author
John Madieu is an embedded Linux and kernel engineer living in France, in Paris. His
main activities consist of developing drivers and Board Support Packages (BSP) for
companies in domains such as automation, transport, healthcare, energy, and the military.
John works at EXPEMB, a French company that is a pioneer in electronical board design
based on computer-on-module, and in embedded Linux solutions. He is an open source
and embedded systems enthusiast, convinced that it is only by sharing knowledge that one
learns more.

He is passionate about boxing, which he practised for 6 years professionally, and continues
to transmit this passion through sessions of training that he provides voluntarily.

I would like to thank Devika Battike, Gebin George, and all the Packt team for their efforts
to release this book on time. They are the people without whom this book would probably
never have seen the light of day. It was a pleasure to work with them.

Finally, I would like to thank all the mentors I have had over the years, and who still
continue to accompany me. Mentors such as Cyprien Pacôme Nguefack for his
programming skills that I have learned over the years, Jérôme Pouillier and Christophe
Nowicki for introducing me buildroot and leading me to kernel programming, Jean-
Christian Rerat and Jean-Philippe DU-Teil of EXPEMB for their coaching and
accompaniment in my professional career; to all those I could not mention, I wish to thank
them for having transmitted these connoises to me, which I have tried to disseminate
through this book.
 About the Reviewer
Jérôme Pouiller is a true geek and fascinated by understanding how things do work.

He was an early adopter of Linux. He found in Linux a system with no limits, where
everything could be changed. Linux has provided an excellent platform to hack anything.

He graduated in machine learning at Ecole Pour l’Informatique et les Technologies

Avancées (EPITA). Beside his studies, he learned electronics by himself. He quickly turned
his attention to the piece of software at crossroad of all advanced systems: the operating
system. It is now one of his favorite subjects.

For 15 years now, Jérôme Pouiller has designed (and often debugged) Linux firmware for a
variety of industries (multimedia, healthcare, nuclear, military).

In addition to his consulting activities, Jérôme Pouiler is professor of operating systems at

Institut National des Sciences Appliquées (INSA). He has written many course materials
about system programming, operating system design, realtime systems, and more.
 www.PacktPub.com
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I would like to thank my girlfriend for her support and all the sleepless nights
accompanying the writing of this book, as well as Brigitte and François, my dear parents,
for whom I have a thought and to whom I dedicate this book entirely.

- John Madieu

I would like to dedicate this book in the memory of my father, who left too.

- Jérôme Pouiller
 Table of Contents
Preface 1
Chapter 1: Introduction to Kernel Development 8
Environment setup 9
Getting the sources 9
Source organization 10
Kernel configuration 11
Building your kernel 12
Kernel habits 13
Coding style 13
Kernel structure allocation/initialization 14
Classes, objects, and OOP 15
Summary 15
Chapter 2: Device Driver Basis 16
User space and kernel space 17
The concept of modules 18
Module dependencies 18
depmod utility 18
Module loading and unloading 19
Manual loading 19
modprobe and insmod 19
/etc/modules-load.d/<filename>.conf 19
Auto-loading 20
Module unload 20
Driver skeletons 21
Module entry and exit point 22
__init and __exit attributes 22
Module information 24
Licensing 26
Module author(s) 27
Module description 28
Errors and message printing 28
Error handling 28
Handling null pointer errors 31
Message printing – printk() 32
Module parameters 34
Building your first module 36
The module's makefile 36
In the kernel tree 38
Out of the tree 41
Table of Contents

Building the module 41

Summary 42
Chapter 3: Kernel Facilities and Helper Functions 43
Understanding the container_of macro 43
Linked lists 46
Creating and initializing a list 48
Dynamic method 48
Static method 48
Creating a list node 49
Adding a list node 49
Deleting a node from the list 50
Linked list traversal 50
The kernel sleeping mechanism 51
Wait queue 51
Delay and timer management 54
Standard timers 55
Jiffies and HZ 55
The timer API 55
Timer setup initialization 56
Standard timer example 57
High-resolution timers (HRTs) 58
HRT API 58
HRT setup initialization 58
Dynamic tick/tickless kernel 60
Delays and sleep in the kernel 60
Atomic context 60
Nonatomic context 61
Kernel locking mechanism 61
Mutex 62
Mutex API 62
Declare 62
Acquire and release 63
Spinlock 64
Spinlock versus mutexes 66
Work deferring mechanism 66
Softirqs and ksoftirqd 66
ksoftirqd 67
Tasklets 68
Declaring a tasklet 68
Enabling and disabling a tasklet 69
Tasklet scheduling 69
Work queues 71
Kernel-global work queue – the shared queue 71
Dedicated work queue 74
Programming syntax 74
Predefined (shared) workqueue and standard workqueue functions 77
Kernel threads 78

[ ii ]
Table of Contents

Kernel interruption mechanism 78

Registering an interrupt handler 78
Interrupt handler and lock 81
Concept of bottom halves 82
The problem – interrupt handler design limitations 82
The solution – bottom halves 83
Tasklets as bottom halves 83
Workqueue as bottom halves 84
Softirqs as bottom half 85
Threaded IRQs 85
Threaded bottom half 87
Invoking user space applications from the kernel 88
Summary 89
Chapter 4: Character Device Drivers 90
The concept behind major and minor 91
Device number allocation and freeing 92
Introduction to device file operations 93
File representation in the kernel 94
Allocating and registering a character device 96
Writing file operations 97
Exchanging data between kernel space and user space 97
A single value copy 98
The open method 99
Per-device data 99
The release method 100
The write method 101
Steps to write 101
The read method 103
Steps to read 104
The llseek method 105
Steps to llseek 106
The poll method 107
Steps to poll 108
The ioctl method 111
Generating ioctl numbers (command) 112
Steps for ioctl 113
Filling the file_operations structure 115
Summary 115
Chapter 5: Platform Device Drivers 116
Platform drivers 117
Platform devices 121
Resources and platform data 121
Device provisioning – the old and deprecated way 121
Resources 122
Platform data 124

[ iii ]
Table of Contents

Where to declare platform devices? 126

Device provisioning – the new and recommended way 126
Devices, drivers, and bus matching 127
How can platform devices and platform drivers match? 129
Kernel devices and drivers-matching function 130
OF style and ACPI match 131
ID table matching 131
Per device-specific data on ID table matching 133
Name matching – platform device name matching 135
Summary 135
Chapter 6: The Concept of a Device Tree 136
Device tree mechanisms 136
Naming convention 137
Aliases, labels, and phandle 138
DT compiler 139
Representing and addressing devices 140
SPI and I2C addressing 140
Platform device addressing 142
Handling resources 143
Concept of named resources 144
Accessing registers 145
Handling interrupts 146
The interrupt handler 146
Interrupt controller code 147
Extract application-specific data 148
Text string 148
Cells and unsigned 32-bit integers 149
Boolean 150
Extracting and parsing sub-nodes 150
Platform drivers and DTs 151
OF match style 151
Dealing with non-device tree platforms 154
Support multiple hardware devices with per device-specific data 155
Match style mixing 157
Platform resources and DTs 159
Platform data versus DTs 161
Summary 162
Chapter 7: I2C Client Drivers 163
The driver architecture 164
The i2c_driver structure 164
The probe() function 165
Per-device data 166
The remove() function 167
Driver initialization and registration 168
Driver and device provisioning 168
Accessing the client 169

[ iv ]
Table of Contents

Plain I2C communication 169

System Management Bus (SMBus) compatible functions 171
Instantiating I2C devices in the board configuration file (old and deprecated
way) 172
I2C and device trees 173
Defining and registering the I2C driver 174
Remark 175
Instantiating I2C devices in a DT – the new way 176
Putting it all together 176
Summary 177
Chapter 8: SPI Device Drivers 178
The driver architecture 179
The device structure 179
spi_driver structure 182
The probe() function 182
Per-device data 183
The remove() function 184
Driver initialization and registration 184
Driver and device provisioning 185
Instantiating SPI devices in board configuration file – old and deprecated way 186
SPI and device tree 187
Instantiate SPI devices in device tree – the new way 189
Define and register SPI driver 189
Accessing and talking to the client 190
Putting it all together 195
SPI user mode driver 195
With IOCTL 197
Summary 200
Chapter 9: Regmap API - A Register Map Abstraction 201
Programming with the regmap API 202
regmap_config structure 203
regmap initialization 206
SPI initialization 206
I2C initialization 207
Device access functions 208
regmap_update_bits function 209
Special regmap_multi_reg_write function 210
Other device access functions 211
regmap and cache 211
Putting it all together 213
A regmap example 213
Summary 216
Chapter 10: IIO Framework 217
IIO data structures 219
iio_dev structure 219

[v]
Table of Contents

iio_info structure 223

IIO channels 224
Channel attribute naming conventions 226
Distinguishing channels 228
Putting it all together 230
Triggered buffer support 233
IIO trigger and sysfs (user space) 236
Sysfs trigger interface 237
add_trigger file 237
remove_trigger file 238
Tying a device with a trigger 238
The interrupt trigger interface 238
The hrtimer trigger interface 239
IIO buffers 240
IIO buffer sysfs interface 240
IIO buffer setup 241
Putting it all together 243
IIO data access 249
One-shot capture 250
Buffer data access 250
Capturing using the sysfs trigger 250
Capturing using the hrtimer trigger 252
IIO tools 253
Summary 253
Chapter 11: Kernel Memory Management 254
System memory layout – kernel space and user space 256
Kernel addresses – concept of low and high memory 258
Low memory 259
High memory 259
User space addresses 260
Virtual memory area (VMA) 263
Address translation and MMU 265
Page lookup and TLB 271
How does the TLB work? 271
Memory allocation mechanism 273
Page allocator 274
Page allocation API 274
Conversion functions 276
Slab allocator 277
The buddy algorithm 277
A journey into the slab allocator 280
kmalloc family allocation 282
vmalloc allocator 285
Process memory allocation under the hood 287
The copy-on-write (CoW) case 288
Working with I/O memory to talk with hardware 289

[ vi ]
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
girl, with a frank, attractive face, clear, steady grey eyes and a
pleasant mouth.
“I shall have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming all
this elegance. I wonder what they are doing at home!” Hilary went
back to the window where she sat looking out wistfully. “It will be
my first Christmas away from home. I hope they’ll miss me,—but
there, this will never do!” She hopped up to avoid tears which would
not be appropriate at all in a girl who was having as delightful an
opportunity as was hers on this visit, and going to the desk she
began a letter home.
“Just think,” she wrote, “here I am in New York, going to ride
down Broadway—and Fifth Avenue—and Riverside Drive—and see
the statue of Liberty holding up her little old torch, and go to the top
of the Woolworth building, and who knows what else? I’ll remember
and tell you everything!” But just here Etta came in and no more
was written till bath and a long nap had refreshed two tired little
girls.
 CHAPTER XV
CHRISTMAS AT CATHALINA’S

Two days passed before Christmas. In that time Hilary became

somewhat familiar with her surroundings and even at home. For, in
spite of the luxurious rooms and well-trained servants, the
atmosphere of the Van Buskirk home was one of simple and cordial
hospitality. If Hilary had been their own, the family could not have
made her more welcome. Even Mr. Van Buskirk, as she wrote to her
mother, considered her “worth talking to”. Philip Junior teased her a
little as he teased Cathalina, and yet in a quiet, brotherly way looked
after them both, to help on the good time.
There was one delirious day of shopping in the wonderful stores.
Hilary had never seen anything like the glittering Christmas display.
Mrs. Van Buskirk took the girls from one bewildering shop to
another. Shopping was not so tiresome when a fine limousine was
waiting to carry you from place to place.
“I thought you’d like it!” and Cathalina’s eyes sparkled. The winter
cold had made her cheeks as rosy as Hilary’s and she was enjoying it
all doubly, for herself and for her guest.
“But I want so many things that I haven’t bought anything! I want
to take them each something, you know.”
“O, well, there’ll be something left even after Christmas, you
know, and you can buy your presents then. Mamma bought most of
my presents for me. She knew I wouldn’t have any time.”
“Let us just enjoy the sights and the Christmas cheer,” said Mrs.
Van Buskirk, who was not hurrying about, like many of the shoppers.
“Our gifts are for the most part wrapped and labeled.” But Hilary
with great delight watched her purchase a few beautiful things.
They lunched at what Hilary described to June as a very grand
place, where Hilary left the ordering to her more experienced
hostesses. Then Hilary did make a few modest purchases, having by
this time found out what she wanted, and went home, tired but
delighted, to spend Christmas Eve.
The cousins had been in and out several times since Hilary came,
but she declared that she never would get the names and
relationships straight.
“Never mind, Hilary; they are all as nice and full of fun as can be
and you will clear it all up when you see us all together at the
Christmas dinner. Really, there haven’t been so many. Honestly, now,
did you think that was a new lot that we met at lunch?”
“No, not all of them, but I had a hard time remembering which
was which.”
“And you a minister’s daughter!”
“I’ve been too dazzled here, Cathalina. You must make allowances
for a weak mind!”
“The trouble today was that they all had different clothes on.”
“Yes, that was one thing. Then I met a Maria yesterday and an
Ann Maria today and they were so alike—I liked her or both!”
“It’s just one girl, our jolly old Ann Maria, and ‘Cousin Elizabeth’
and ‘Cousin Libbie’ are the same,—Mrs. Van Ness. She was the
pretty lady in gray. And that perfect dear in the mink furs,—do you
remember her? That was Aunt Mate or Aunt Mary,—Mrs. Hart. She is
always making everybody feel comfortable in their minds. Then we
have two Charlottes. You’ll see.”
“You don’t blame me, do you, Philip?” and Hilary whirled around
to where Phil sat reading by the library fire.
“Indeed I don’t. Anybody that could get the Van Nesses and Van
Buskirks and all the rest of ’em in two or three days would be a
wonder.”
“Good! Where’s June’s candy? Take it all, Philip!”
“Thanks, kind lady, what else can I do for you?”
“O, Phil, get your guitar and sing college songs for us,—do!” As
Cathalina spoke she started for the instrument.
“Can’t possibly tonight. We’ll have a sing tomorrow night, all
hands of us. Besides,” here Philip coughed affectedly and finished on
a high falsetto, “I have such a cold!”
Cathalina laughed. “All right till after dinner. You know Father and
Mother always want some music on Christmas Eve.”
At bedtime the two girls undressed before Hilary’s fire. Cathalina
thought that Hilary might be lonely on Christmas Eve, so she
dismissed Etta and they chatted by themselves.
“Isn’t Christmas the most beautiful time? Will you go to church
tomorrow?”
“Yes; Father and Mother always go. O, I want you to hear a
wonderful Christmas service, chimes and everything!”
“How cold and still it is tonight!”
“If you can call a city still. Of course it really is not noisy out here,
and anyway when you get used to a city you don’t hear things any
more than the ticking of our little alarm clock.”
“You only need to mention alarm clock to prove it. Do you
remember how I can sleep through all the din?” Both girls laughed
at the memories of certain early morning hours. “But you don’t know
how queer I feel sometimes, Cathalina, as if this is a story and
nothing is real.”
“It seems real enough to me. Haven’t I the dearest father and
mother and brother?”
“Having some of my own I could not say ‘dearest,’ but they are
just wonderful. And why didn’t you tell me, Cathalina, that you lived
like this?”
“Well, Hilary, of course, I’m used to my dear home and would not
have thought much about it if Mother and Father had not warned
me. They said if I wanted to be happy and have the girls feel free
with me and maybe love me a little, I must do as the rest do and not
ever hint about having a maid or anything. Then they said, as usual,
that it is what you are and not what you have that counts and they
were anxious to see if I could get along without being waited on and
amount to something myself.”
At Hilary’s wondering look she continued: “Of course they were
too kind to put it just that way, but I really thought that they must
be disgusted with me,—and how I cried, all to myself! But I made up
my mind to it and thought at first that I’d show everybody I could
stay and work hard at my lessons! Then I liked Greycliff and the girls
so well that I forgot all about the beginning or why I went there. I’ve
just been understanding since I came back home how worried they
must have been about me.”
“I suppose you felt almost as queer at Greycliff as I do here. Still,
it’s a big place there and they have servants too. I don’t know how
this immense house would have looked to me if I had not been to
Greycliff first.”
Cathalina laughed. “But this is a home. It is a big old thing, but I
love it. You ought to see some of the other places here. Ours would
not seem so much for size, then. But come on, Hilary-Dillary, we’re
going to hang up our stockings just like kiddies tonight,—in the den
next to my room. Phil promises to do it too, just for fun, as we used
to. Did you see Mother buying that horn and jumping-jack?”
“Yes; I thought it was for some little chap in the family.”
“It was for her little kiddie-boy.”

Christmas morning was shining with the combined radiance of sun

and snow.
“Merry Christmas, Phil!” Cathalina in negligee and slippers
pounded on Phil’s door. Heavy breathing, somewhat exaggerated,
greeted her.
“Merry Christmas, Hilary! O, I caught you! You couldn’t hear that
old scamp at the end of the hall. I know he was awake, but you’ll
see, he’ll come pounding on our door when he hears us talking in
here,—and pretend that he never heard me at all.” Cathalina shook
off her slippers and with the bulging stockings she settled herself by
Hilary. “I left Phil’s by his door. He won’t care much, but he may
pretend he does to please me.”
Etta appeared to light the gas in the grate. She laughed in
response to their calls of “Merry Christmas”. Going to a drawer in the
chiffonier, she drew out two fleecy wraps which she put around the
excited girls.
 “Now you take out one, Hilary, and then I’ll take one. I feel just
like little ‘Catty Buskirk’ aged five. It’s just as well that we’re starting
early, because you and I, and Phil, if we can get him to help, are to
decorate the Christmas tree. Loads of things came in yesterday and
I imagine more will come this morning.”
“For all ‘your sisters and your cousins and your aunts’?” asked
Hilary, as she felt again of the knobs in the stocking and drew out
first a rectangular package. “My, look at the yellow satin bow!” she
cried, as she unwrapped a candy box accompanied by Philip’s card
and the familiar inscription “Sweets to the sweet.”
“Phil brought home a great box of sweets that you will get later,”
said Cathalina, accepting a bon-bon and starting to unwrap a similar
package. “This is just like yours. Mother was pretending to whisk
something out of sight that he gave her.”
“That is the fun about Christmas. Everything is so jolly and
mysterious. But you have such loads of things all the time that I
shouldn’t think it would be so much fun.”
“Yes it is. Really, Hilary, we can’t have everything as you think,
especially sweets and jewelry and little gems of things in pictures
and books and—O, plenty of things. And all the Van Buskirks and
Van Nesses and the rest just love the Christmas fun. The
‘mysteriouser’ everything is the better.”
All the simple things that ought to be in any well-regulated
stocking were in theirs. There was even a stick of old-fashioned
peppermint candy, wrapped in a slender package as if very precious
and marked by Mr. Van Buskirk, while Mrs. Van Buskirk had
contributed a china doll for each. It was tiny and dressed in a
crochet frock after a fashion of years age.
“They carried out the idea of kiddies with us, too, didn’t they?
Isn’t it fun to slip your hand down and feel the little packages?”
Hilary found two gold hat pins from Mrs. Van Buskirk and a bottle
of the very best violet perfume from Mr. Van Buskirk. Then, down in
the toe was a small package with a card marked, “Merry Christmas
to Hilary from her loving roommate, Cathalina.”
Cathalina’s color rose as she said, “I do hope you’ll like it!”
 Hilary lifted the little hinged cover.
“O, Cathalina! It matches the pendant! How did you know that I
love rings better than anything else? But, honey, you give me these
lovely things, and what shall I do?”
“I’ll show you.” Cathalina took the flashing little ring from between
the satin pads and slipped it on Hilary’s finger. “‘With this ring I
thee’—present! Good, it fits. Do you remember when I was trying
my sapphire ring on your finger down by the lake one day?”
“Was that it!” exclaimed Hilary, turning her well-shaped hand to
see the opal flash green and red in the light from the fire. Like the
pendant, the ring had its tiny diamonds, too. “How beautiful it is!”
“Look inside,” suggested Cathalina.
Hilary drew off the narrow circlet and read the fine letters, “C. to
H. Greycliff.”
Cathalina’s stocking was almost a duplicate of Hilary’s, but in the
toe she found a dainty wrist watch. She already had an exquisite
little watch, but this was in a style for which she had expressed a
desire.
“Rah-rah for Greycliff!” cried Cathalina rather irrelevantly, waving
the empty stocking, and slid out of bed. Etta came promptly at her
ring and assisted both girls. It was Hilary’s first experience at having
a maid do her hair. She sat still with sparkling eyes, thinking of the
vivid description which she could give June and the boys of little
Hilary in the lap of luxury.
“Toot-toot!” and “tat-tat” on their door, “Merry Christmas, ladies!”
“Merry Christmas, you old fraud!” responded Cathalina. “I called
‘Merry Christmas’ hours ago and you heard me too, didn’t you now,
Philly?”
“Couldn’t I have been asleep?”
“Yes, you could, but you weren’t.”
“So long,” said Philip; “I smell turkey. Toot-toot.”
“They did give him that horn! Isn’t it awful? We’ll hang that and
my ‘dollie’ on the tree.”
“Is everybody coming to dinner?”
 “Yes; the whole ‘gens,’ root and branch!”
“Don’t quote Latin; it makes me think of Dr. Carver. Poor thing, I
hope she has a nice Christmas!”
“Why ‘poor thing’? She looks down on us! And besides, since the
‘Herr Professor’ came, she lives in hopes, as Ann Maria says.”
“My! Do lady Ph.D’s ever get married?”
“How should I know?” returned Cathalina saucily. “Ready, Hilary?
Come on, then to hot waffles and real maple syrup!”
With arms around each other, they started in step down the
stairway and began to sing a Christmas carol. Philip, appearing in
the drawing room door, joined in with a clear baritone. Then Mr. and
Mrs. Van Buskirk came from the library to join the young people and
they all went singing to the dining room.
 CHAPTER XVI
WHEN THE CLAN GATHERED

“I suppose that Christmas Eve is really the time for Christmas

trees,” said Cathalina, as she straightened a candle on the tree and
hung another silver ball where it would show to the best advantage.
“But everybody wants to be in his own home then, and anyway
Cousin John couldn’t get in until late last night and Uncle Mart was
to get in this noon. He’s been South on business.”
The family dinner was to be early on account of the smaller fry. At
five o’clock darkness had fallen, the Van Buskirk home was aglow
from every window and the family waiting. The tree was in what
Hilary called the back parlor, separated from the room at the front by
pillars and draperies. As Cathalina flitted about the tree looking like a
sweet Christmas fairy, Hilary sat almost lost in a great chair, enjoying
the beauty of the tree and of the warm, spacious room with its fine
pictures and tasteful appointments.
“There!” cried Cathalina at last, and pressing the electric button
left the room dark, except for such light as came in from other well
lighted rooms. “They’ll all come at once,” continued Cathalina,
perching on the arm of Hilary’s chair.
“How can the children wait all day for their presents?”
“O, they have most of them at home, but they do look forward to
the big family tree. I used to be crazy about the time when I would
see Santa Claus. O, isn’t it fine, Hilary, to have you here and
everybody coming! Katy never gave me a look when I peeped into
the kitchen a while ago. She was bossing the whole crew,—wouldn’t
hear to the caterer Mother had suggested to the housekeeper. And
we’re lucky to have her and her good homey cooking. Some of
Mother’s friends have such times. Mrs. Utley has millions of money,
but when her littlest kiddie had been out with his nurse and exposed
to small pox, the whole set left and she had to get along by herself a
while. If you knew her you would understand how funny it was. I
have forgotten how long they were quarantined, but nobody was
sick.—O, there they come!” Cathalina rose and spun around on her
slippered toes, her light dress floating around her. Hilary rose, too, in
some inward excitement, and shook out the lines of her prettiest
“party frock”, which was quite as nice as Cathalina’s; for Mrs. Van
Buskirk had not changed her ideas in regard to simplicity for young
girls.
Watts in his most elegant style was admitting the guests whose
merry voices drew the girls to the hall. Young laughter, little
Charlotte’s shrill treble, Uncle Knickerbocker’s kind bass tones, the
cheery greetings and “Merry Christmases” of old and young soon
filled the house with cheer. Several of the children could not resist
the shining bannisters and slid down triumphantly before their elders
could stop them. The company rapidly increased in a truly informal
gathering where common interests and affection made everything
natural and spontaneous.
Hilary watched it all with fascinated eyes in the intervals of being
presented, though she little dreamed how closely her life was to be
connected with this family group. Having met many people in her
few years, she noted the correct speech, intelligent faces and
general air of content and ease. Philip Van Buskirk was the only man
of large wealth among them, but most of the family connection were
in comfortable circumstances, accustomed to the atmosphere of
education and culture. With Aunt Knickerbocker, Hilary quite fell in
love. That lady, as usual, wore soft black silk with white lace. A faint
odor of violets always clung to any possession of Katherine
Knickerbocker’s,—her gloves, or scarf, and tonight she wore the
flowers themselves. She held Hilary’s hand, looking at her with kind,
shrewd eyes and a pleasant smile. Her chin was lifted, her head
tipped a little sidewise, as she welcomed Hilary. Then with a low
laugh and a quick little movement she gathered Hilary close to her
side, and keeping an arm around her, drew her along to meet some
of the rest.
 “Charlotte, this is the fine girl that rooms with Cathalina at
Greycliff. Miss Randolph has written many complimentary things
about her. Hilary, this is Mrs. Stuart, Cathalina’s aunt. Come here,
Sara Stuart, I want you to meet Cathalina’s friend. Introduce her,
please, to Emily and Campbell.”
Thus Hilary was passed around or waited till the young people
were brought to her. From the oldest, who was Uncle Knickerbocker
with snow-white hair, to wee “Sh’lotte Mee-nia”, they all took Hilary
into their hearts and made her one of them. She was greatly
interested, of course, in John Van Ness and his sweetheart, Juliet
King. This was Juliet’s first visit with the family since the
engagement was announced.
“Isn’t she lovely?” whispered Cathalina, “not exactly pretty, either,
but so—charming. Look at John; he can’t keep his eyes away from
her.”
When dinner was announced, Philip Van Buskirk escorted Aunt
Katherine, while Uncle Knickerbocker, gallantly and with much
joking, tucked Sylvia’s hand in his arm. Among the youngsters, Philip
Junior took out Hilary, which made her feel very grand and grown
up.
The dining room was ablaze with light, reflected in the glittering
cut glass and shining silver. Two long tables were decked in
Christmas trimmings. Here, as in the other rooms, poinsettias, holly
and mistletoe were in evidence and lovely cut flowers gave
fragrance. Watts was in his element and the pretty maids wore
sprigs of holly in their caps.
There was a slight disturbance when little Charlotte found that
she had been expected to sit by her mother instead of with the
younger generation at their table. But at Sylvia’s nod, Watts whisked
the high-chair to the other table, next to Charlotte’s sister.
With bowed heads they listened to Uncle Knickerbocker’s long
grace. Louise was somewhat inattentive because of various
wigglings on the part of her small charge; and Will was guilty of a
suppressed giggle as out of one eye he watched Charlotte’s attempts
to speak and Louise with her finger on the child’s lips. Her shrill
voice piped out as soon as the blessing was asked: “But I don’t see
any turkey!” A general ripple of amusement went round; then the
hum of conversation began.
Philip sat at one end of the children’s table, Cathalina at the other.
“The whole tribe is here, isn’t it?” asked Campbell Stuart, a tall,
good-looking young fellow who sat between Hilary and Ann Maria.
“Can you get the hang of our relatives yet, Miss Hilary?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s really very simple, as our Trig professor says,” Campbell
continued. “Now that they are together at table it would be a good
time to get a fine general idea of the various groups. (I quote again,
from our distinguished history professor!) Let us start in on the other
table.” Campbell straightened his shoulders and made an appropriate
gesture.
“That’s old Peppy Brown to perfection,” said Phil, “but nixy on the
family history, please.”
“It will only take a minute, Phil, brace up. Of course you know
Aunt and Uncle Knickerbocker. Then that gentleman with the very
black hair, on the other side of Aunt Sylvia, is Martin Van Buskirk. He
is a good scout and you’ll like him. He’s named for the Martin Van
Buskirk who came over from Holland, fought in the Revolutionary
war and married Maria Van Ness. Uncle Mart says he does not know
which took the most courage,—with no reflection on his bride
intended. Uncle Mart’s a bachelor himself.
“Next to him is my mother, and right opposite is Father with Aunt
Adaline Wallace, another of Uncle Phil’s five sisters.”
Hilary gasped and laughed.
“Now we’ll pick them out,” Campbell went on. In schoolboy style
he entertained Hilary for some minutes with his lively description of
uncles, aunts and cousins on both sides of the house.
“Do they all live in New York?” inquired Hilary.
“No, but near, except Aunt Lois. She’s teaching in Virginia. We live
in Brooklyn this winter, but are going out to stay at Cousin Lib’s
tonight after the fun. You know Father is related to her too, so we’re
all double cousins.”
 “Mercy, Campbell!” exclaimed Louise Van Ness. “You are getting
Hilary more mixed than ever. Forget it, Hilary. Do tell us, Campbell,
or Philip, how it happened that your famous old team lost that last
game!”
No more effectual means could have been devised for changing
the subject. Both boys eagerly began to explain how it happened, by
a series of unlooked for accidents, together with the unfairness of
the referee that the football team had been defeated!
“It couldn’t have been, of course,” whispered Sara to Ann Maria,
“that the other team played a better game! Aren’t boys funny!”
Will and Nan were keeping the fun going at the other end of the
table and were ably assisted by Charles and Henry Wallace, two
polite but irrepressible lads who had been promised all the turkey
they could eat if they would behave like gentlemen at Uncle Philip’s.
Any resentment at reproof which they may have felt they were
taking out in an excess of polite behaviour, especially to each other,
with droll remarks which kept Cathalina convulsed with laughter
most of the time.
After the dinner came the tree. Hilary had helped decorate, but
did not realize how like fairyland the place would look, with the
candles lit and the little electric bulbs shining among the branches.
No other lights were on in the room, that the big tree might stand
out in all its glory. Some of the branches were frosted with a
sparkling dust, and hung by invisible wires from above, a Christmas
angel spread white wings. For a moment, every one was silent. Even
little Charlotte drew a sigh of rapture. “Peace on earth,” murmured
Aunt Katherine.
Then Charlotte ran up to the tree. “I see my dollie!” she cried,
lifting baby hands and arms to the big doll which she knew must be
hers.
“And here’s old Santa Claus!” said Ann Maria, calling Charlotte’s
attention to young Philip, much padded, with long white beard and
great fur overcoat. Exclamations of delight greeted the gifts, always
especially nice at Aunt Sylvia’s; for she took the opportunity to
remember generously a few of the young people not quite so
abundantly provided for as Philip, and Cathalina, and, indeed, tried
in every way to find out the real heart’s desire of each.
Hilary found herself with an armful of presents, several books for
which she had been longing, a dainty scarf which was one of the
pretty things picked up on Sylvia’s last trip abroad, a flashlight, a
traveling case, a dozen fine handkerchiefs, some stationery and
candy. She turned to Mr. Van Buskirk and said earnestly, “O, how can
I accept all these lovely presents when I’ve given next to nothing to
you!”
Philip Senior placed his hands lightly over her shoulders: “Hilary,
child, you have done more already for my little girl in lessons of self-
reliance and devotion to work than these baubles and trifles could
ever do for you.” And Hilary was comforted.
“Clear the floor for the Virginia reel!” called Philip. Methodist
Hilary looked up startled. “Don’t worry, Hilary,” said the amused
Cathalina, who was standing near. “It is not a real dance—that is, no
more than the gym dances. This is a family custom,—once a year,
and Sir Roger De Coverly, well, they prance around like this,” and
Cathalina held one hand high as if reaching toward an imaginary
partner, and minced about in a rhythmic walk.
Uncle Knickerbocker was approaching Madame Sylvia with what
Hilary called “gym steps and variations”. Aunt Knickerbocker with a
sweeping courtesy was greeting Uncle Martin, who reached her just
before Philip Senior. “Never mind, Philip; it’s fine to be popular,—and
Martin is always such fun,—no offense, Philip?”
“None whatever, Madam,” replied her host, his hand on his heart,
“though I envy Martin!”
“Twas ever thus,” sighed Martin Van Buskirk, “valued not so much
for my handsome face as for my ready tongue!”
“Your ready heels, my lad!” returned Aunt Katherine, as he led her
out.
“Look at ’em!” said Cathalina, poking Hilary. “You’d think Father
was a boy tonight.”
Hilary shook with laughter at the jokes and the exaggerated old-
time manners assumed for the occasion as the elders took their
places. The younger children preferred to play with their toys, but
the rest lined up in the double line. Cathalina played for them this
time,—an old-fashioned tune that set Hilary’s feet to tapping.
Campbell, tall, handsome lad, came up and asked her to be his
partner. Hilary imitated the low curtseys of the rest to match his
bow, saying, “I wish I could, Campbell, but I’d be sure to get mixed
up and spoil it all. Isn’t it pretty?”
Campbell drew up an easy chair by Hilary’s and stretched out
lazily. “I’m quite contented to sit here by you. I guess Uncle
Knickerbocker couldn’t have eaten the turkey I did. Look at the fancy
steps he is putting in. I bet he’ll be lame tomorrow!”
“He’s such a fine old gentleman,” said Hilary, warmly, “handsome
yet.”
“O, he was some beau in his time,” replied Campbell, who enjoyed
watching Hilary’s expressive face more than the maneuvers upon the
floor.
One turn of the old-fashioned dance was enough for the elders,
who scattered, laughing and breathless, to drop into convenient
chairs and watch the graceful figures of John and Juliet, Louise, Ann
Maria and the rest until they too were tired and gathered around the
piano for more quiet enjoyment. The singing of fresh young voices,
the gay or tender songs, as one or another called for some favorite,
and last the trying of some new records, brought the family party to
a contented and happy close. Nurses and maids were off duty, and
when it was discovered that Charlotte was asleep on the floor with
her precious doll, the last of several which she had received that
day, it was thought high time for departure. Several out-of-town
people remained over night with the Van Buskirks; others went with
Mr. and Mrs. Van Ness, and the rest pursued their different ways
home.
 CHAPTER XVII
BASKETBALL

To both Cathalina and Hilary the days in New York, with the circle
of lively young friends flew fast. After more than a week of
unadulterated good times, Hilary found herself homeward bound in
charge of Mr. Martin Van Buskirk, who was off on another business
trip for his firm. They followed a brief visit with the dear home
people who were unselfishly glad for all the good times which were
coming Hilary’s way. Little Mary sat solemnly listening, holding the
big “New York dollie” which Mrs. Van Buskirk had sent her, and
enjoying all the stories about the little Charlotte, some of whose
escapades Hilary omitted to tell lest her small sister be influenced to
like performances. Gordon and Tom were as interested in the New
York boys, and June could not hear enough about the beautiful
home, the Christmas tree and the places which her sister had seen,
in and about New York.
Cathalina and her family had the intimate little visit together
which would carry them over the hours of separation ahead. Aunt
Katherine was delighted at the result of Cathalina’s adventure into a
girls’ school and wanted to hear first hand from Cathalina all about
Miss Randolph, the school and the girls.
But in no time at all, it seemed, school days at Greycliff had
begun and both Cathalina and Hilary were hard at work, Hilary
whipping her team into shape for the tournaments. All the Junior
girls were interested and loyal. The team was a strong one and had
high hopes.
On a frosty night in February, the big “gym”, lit up with brilliant
electric lights and gay with banners, afforded to Greycliff girls and
their visitors a fascinating scene. Girls, girls, girls, and girls again,
came laughing, talking excitedly, each expectant of glory for her own
class team. The older girls were there, too, to see which team would
win the privilege of playing against their winning team and to note
how they played.
Each class had its allotted seats, its song and “yell” leaders, as in
the colleges, each applauding the others’ efforts, but trying to
outstrip every other in originality or noise. No one sat still, but all
were bobbing up or down, this way or that.
Now the Seniors led off, “Seniors ’rah, Seniors ’rah! Greycliff!” The
Sophomores broke into a jolly song and were followed by the
Freshmen, who brought down the house by their shrill singing and
desperate efforts.

O, we’re the little Freshmen,

So young and fresh and gay;
And when we all
Play basketball,
We bear the prize away!

We’ve never been defeated;

We’ve brains and skill and ‘pep’;
Just let us play
By night or day,
And watch us make the ‘rep’!

Avalon, in green sweater and cap, led the singing, completely

transformed from the homesick girl Cathalina first knew. Isabel, with
characteristic energy, led the fierce yell, “Br-rr-rr-ah-zoom! zoom!
Freshmen!” Isabel looked funny enough, stooping to the ground as
she had seen her brothers do, carrying the “Br-rr” along as in her
two hands and waving her arms wildly on “Freshmen!”
Cathalina joined in the literally violent applause given the
Freshmen and bid fair to become as crazy as the rest. She had
written a song for the Juniors and was anxious to hear how it would
sound.
Like the rest, the Junior song leader was excited and marshalled
her forces with much enthusiasm. “Now put some ‘pep’ into it, girls,”
she cried, “ready,—sing!”
 Greycliff Juniors bold are we,
Strong and hearty as you see;
Baskets?—we can make them all,
When our team plays basketball!
Run and go,
Catch each throw,
’Rah-rah, Juniors! Greycliff Hall!

Don’t you wish you had our team?

Watch them when they get up steam!
Juliet’s swift and can not fall;
You can never budge old Paul!
Yells and din,
Juniors win!
Junior ’Cademy! Greycliff Hall!

“Imagine the elegant Cathalina making up a song like that when

she first came to Greycliff!” Isabel had said, and Cathalina did not
more than half like it, though Isabel’s intentions were entirely
complimentary, as Cathalina knew.
One small section of seats held the lady teachers. The “Gym”
teacher was walking here and there, talking occasionally to the
referee. The latter was a fine looking girl, lithe and tall, with blonde
hair braided and wrapped tightly around her head. Blouse, bloomers
and stockings were of black silk and she was the embodiment of
grace and swiftness as she blew her whistle and ran hither and yon
after the game commenced.
By lot it was determined that the Juniors were to play the
Sophomores and the Freshmen the Seniors, an arrangement which
was hard on the Freshmen because their defeat was so immediate
and crushing. It was humiliating, also, in point of score. The contest
between the Sophomores and Juniors was more even, and
accordingly more interesting; but the Juniors won, and at the last
ran up quite a score.
 Then came the most exciting contest of all, between the two
winning teams, Junior and Senior Academy. Teams and classes were
quivering with expectation. The Junior team expected victory, but
knew that it must be hard won if won at all. “It helps a lot, girls,”
said Hilary, “to think you can beat ’em if you try hard enough. I just
feel in my bones that we can,—now shall we do it?” The Seniors
were alive to the disgrace of being beaten by a younger class, and
knowing that the Junior team was a strong one, they prepared for a
struggle.
The referee blew her whistle. She tossed the ball and the two
centers jumped eagerly. At once it became the property of the
Senior girls, whose guarding was fine and determination desperate.
Not a chance did the Juniors have until the Seniors had made two
baskets amid shrieks of delight from Senior “rooters” and the
encouraging yells of Juniors to their team. Then the tide turned for a
time. A Senior girl fumbled and the ball was Hilary’s, who played left
forward. A quick and accurate toss put it through the basket, while
Juniors this time shrieked and applauded. In the next play Juliet
caught the ball and tossed it over her head,—to come down through
the basket! Four baskets the Juniors made in the midst of wild
applause or breathless moments of anxiety. A close struggle
followed, each side striving to gain the advantage.
In unwise partisanship, a Senior girl was guilty of a foul, and
Hilary was called out to try for the basket. Silence reigned while
Captain Hilary stood facing the basket with the ball between her
hands. She measured the distance and with an easy lift tossed the
ball straight above the basket, through which it dropped to the floor.
Senior successes followed, and at the end of the first half the score
was even.
“Clean basketball, remember, girls,” said Hilary earnestly to her
team, as they stretched flat on the floor to rest between halves.
“Don’t lose your heads and we’ll beat ’em yet. Team work is the
thing, Ethel’s lost her head already and is mad. Look out for some
mean tricks. But they won’t do any good. We’ve got a keen referee,
all rightee, and she sees everything. Did you see how she caught up
Ethel that time? My, she was sharp! I’d hate to be spoken to like
that!”
The last half was close and fast. The Juniors took their Captain’s
advice and played eagerly, but with judgment. Juliet and Pauline
seemed inspired. Pauline, guarding the Senior captain, jumped up
before her and catching the ball before the surprised Senior realized
what had happened, sent it flying to Hilary, who once more tossed it
in the Junior basket. Two or three of the Seniors lost their temper.
Several fouls worked to the advantage of the Juniors again. The
score rose in favor of the Juniors and the game ended with a score
of 12 to 8 in their favor.
The victory was hard won but highly satisfactory,—to the Juniors!
Hilary, flushed and tired, but happy, received congratulations, The
Juniors with songs and cheers gathered around the team which had
won them glory. Cathalina radiated joy as much for Hilary’s sake as
for the honor of her class. “You certainly can play basketball, Hilary,”
said Isabel, slapping Hilary on the shoulder as a boy might have
done. “Now do your level best and maybe we can beat the Senior
Collegiates!”
Hilary shook her head doubtfully, but answered with a bright
smile, “We’ll play so the Prep classes won’t be ashamed of us
anyway!”
But alas for the hopes of prepdom! No team had ever beaten this
Senior Collegiate team on its way through Greycliff, and history was
repeated when the last games took place a week later. To the joy of
the Academy classes, however, the game between “Junior A” and
“Senior C” was a close one. Both teams were in fine training and
exhibited a spirit of fair play; but the upper class bore off the
honors.
“I surely would have been mortified if those Preps had beaten us,
and, honestly, once I was almost afraid of it!” Thus spoke the
exhausted but victorious captain, who lay stretched on the floor to
recover after the game. One girl was being rubbed with camphor,
another was applying arnica to a big bump and a third was having a
sprain investigated, while Miss Randolph, with contracted brow,
came over to join the gymnasium teacher and see what were the
injuries of her athletes.
To a few of her teachers Miss Randolph relieved her feelings as
they all walked back to Greycliff Hall, picking their way carefully over
the ice and snow that had formed or fallen too rapidly for removal
from the walks.
“I do not and never shall approve of these competitive games
before the whole school! Practice games are well enough, but the
girls get so excited that they will ‘do or die,’ as one of their ridiculous
songs says!” Miss Randolph’s laugh almost belied the severity of her
remarks.
“‘Vitamque volunt pro laude pacisci,’” quoted the classic Dr.
Carver, whose blood seldom warmed over athletics of any sort.
“That is their spirit,” assented Miss Randolph. “I’m always afraid of
some calamity, but so far we have escaped. I feel responsible for the
girls. However, none of them are allowed to go into anything without
the consent of their parents.”
“Not much can happen in basketball, can there?”
“No, but I am always afraid of the bruises and strains and
sometimes they fall so hard and strike their heads. Perhaps the
athletic craze is more wholesome than some others, but we endure
and are thankful when every tournament is past. And, indeed it
seems to me, if school or college life is to foster any refinement of
speech or manner in our girls, something will have to be done about
these performances.”
As it happened, fate was kind to Miss Randolph and her old-school
ideas. To the great disappointment of both schools, the Highlanders
had an epidemic of measles, “measly things”, as Isabel said, and
arrangements for the competitive games were completely broken off.
But to relieve the general feeling of disappointment they were
promised some kind of an affair together, when all danger of
infection was past. It might be a picnic, a masquerade, nobody knew
just what. “And next year, girls,” said Eloise, impressively, “we can go
with the Collegiates over to see the athletic carnival at the military
school?”
 “How do you know, Elo’?” asked Cathalina.
“The Academy Seniors are supposed to have enough sense to
accompany the distinguished Collegiates! They have a wonderful
time, they say,—met by the boys in their uniforms, of course,
escorted around to all the doings and if you know anybody there you
can even see him! There are plenty of teachers along, of course.”
“My, I wish Phil were that near!” exclaimed Cathalina, with a
homesick pang. “It it a real grown-up school? He isn’t going back to
the same school, perhaps, next year, is just trying a new school this
year, but he will be in college work, I guess.”
“Don’t you know?” asked Hilary is some surprise.
“Poor Hilary. Haven’t you learned yet, Hilary, that I’m just
beginning to pay attention to school things?”
“Sure enough. But they’re interesting, aren’t they?”
“Fairly so,” replied Cathalina with a twinkle.
 CHAPTER XVIII
BIRD CLUBS AND A PRINCESS

“When may I see you alone, Miss Randolph?” Cathalina had

slipped through the front ranks of the girls in the hall after dinner,
and leaning close spoke in low tones.
“Right now, Cathalina,” Miss Randolph drew Cathalina’s hand
within her arm and completed the short distance to her door.
“Anything serious?”
“No, Miss Randolph, but I have a puzzle and I thought you might
help me.”
Miss Randolph closed her door and went straight to a low couch
where she lay down and motioned Cathalina to a chair near. “Excuse
me, but my head troubles me a little today and I want to rest.”
Cathalina pushed the chair aside and drew up a small stool on
which she dropped, taking the hand that Miss Randolph stretched
out.
“Let me rub your forehead as I do Mamma’s sometimes.”
Miss Randolph closed her eyes a few minutes as she was soothed
by Cathalina’s ministrations. Then she caught Cathalina’s hand and
put it with the other in her own firm, white hand, “Now tell me,” she
said.
Cathalina very sincerely loved and admired Miss Randolph and to
be here so intimately talking with the lady of whom some of the girls
were in such terror was rather embarrassing when her first feeling of
“poor lady with a headache” had gone. “It is a rest to have you here,
Cathalina,” Miss Randolph continued, looking so sweet and womanly
and kind, as she waited for Cathalina’s confidences that the young
girl felt an affection even warmer than she had felt before.
“It is not anything, then, that will add to my gray hairs?” Miss
Randolph gave Cathalina a comical look as if to indicate that she was
accustomed to such things.
“No, indeed, Miss Randolph, and perhaps you will think I am silly.
It’s only this. I heard Betty and Isabel and Diane talking about
joining the bird clubs, and Diane and Isabel both said that they’d
love to, only it would be all their people could do this year to meet
the regular expenses, and they did not dare ask for field glasses or
even opera glasses or any more books. Now I’m going to join, and I
thought maybe I could get the textbooks and some others and make
a little library for the East Corridor girls. But I’m afraid to buy glasses
for the girls,—they’re so proud and independent. Why I had a time
to get Hilary to accept a few little presents.”
“Independence of a certain kind is a fine virtue, Cathalina. Has
Hilary glasses?”
“Yes, her aunt sent her some fine ones.”
“Let me think a little. I suppose you would like to buy each of the
other girls a forty or fifty dollar pair?”
Cathalina laughed at Miss Randolph’s tone. “Yes, of course I
would, but I see that I can’t unless I do it ‘unbeknownst,’ as our Katy
says, and anyway they would suspect.”
“How would this plan do? For some time I have thought that we
ought to have a supply of glasses to rent; but some of the girls are
so careless that that fact, together with our lack of funds, has
prevented our getting them. Now how would you like to present the
school with a number of field glasses of moderate price, and perhaps
two or three more expensive ones to be given out at my discretion
or given by the science teachers for special interest or ability?
Possibly one or two could be awarded at the close of the year as
prizes.”
“That is the very thing! I’ll write Papa today! Thank you, Miss
Randolph, I might have known that you would take the worry away.
And you can manage it, can’t you, so that Diane and Isabel get
some good ones?”
“I surely will if the little princess gives us so much. She ought to
have some reward!”
 “‘Princess!’” thought Cathalina, as she went away. “That’s what
I’m going to be, forever and ever!—a fairy princess who will make all
sorts of lovely dreams come true for people!”
Hilary was taken into the secret, and such fun as the girls had for
several weeks, looking at Catalogues and ordering, with the help of
the teacher who had charge of the bird classes, books, glasses and
magazines. For the idea of an East Corridor bird library had
expanded into an extensive addition to the general library of the
school and promised to interest not only Mr. Van Buskirk, but his
friends, and outside of the scientific line in which Cathalina had
begun. Mr. Van Buskirk had sent a check for a thousand dollars, five
hundred of which could be spent by Cathalina, under some direction
or oversight. “Let her do it,” he wrote, “if you think she can, even if
she makes some mistakes. She will have to learn, and I like to see
her take the initiative in some plan for others.” To Cathalina he
wrote: “Keep your eyes open. I am prepared to make quite a
contribution to the Greycliff library when we understand its needs.”
If Greycliff had been beautiful in autumn, it was doubly so now,
as the leaves came out and blossoms decked the outlying meadows.
In the wood, the girls found blue, white and yellow violets. From her
window Cathalina could see the birds flitting about the branches
near by and hear the new and lovely spring songs that came from
their happy throats, “Why,” she exclaimed to Hilary one day after a
long tramp when they had dropped on the beach to rest with a
group of girls. “I always loved to look at the trees and sky and water,
but it does make it so much more fascinating if you go after
something.”
“Yes,” assented Hilary. “Now, when I see a bird on the shore I
wonder if it is a duck or a coot or a gull,”—“Or a chicken!” finished
Isabel, who continued with a tale of her own. “The other day I
identified the janitor’s old hen as a grouse! O, yes, I can identify any
old thing! I put down every line and mark I could see,—in my note
book, and never knew any better till it came beating it toward me
and clucking! And I watched ten minutes for one of his old barnyard
ducks to come around the corner of a rock. What business it had
down on the shore posing as a gull or something I could not see.”
“I did worse than that,” said Hilary. “Honestly, girls, I hardly knew
a bluejay from a wren until this spring. So the first week of class I
was trying to get as big a list as possible,”—here several girls looked
interested and nodded their heads as if to say in girls’ parlance, “me,
too!”
“And I saw a bird that seemed to be building a nest around by the
engine house somewhere. He was an awfully pretty looking little
chap, all brown and stripey like the sparrow, and his feathers were
so new and bright that I just knew he must be a new arrival, some
kind of a finch, by his thick bill. I noted down very carefully all his
streaks and bars, just as Isabel did. The only very striking thing
about him was a dark patch on his throat, and I found in my book
the description of a ‘black-throated bunting.’ That was it, of course,”
and Hilary brought her fist down on the heap of sand which she had
been scraping up as she talked. “For at least half an hour I was
watching, and the longer I looked the less the black-throated
bunting idea would do! And what do you suppose he was?”
“An English sparrow,” cried Diane, who had been grinning all
through the description. “I did almost the same thing,—the beasts!”
“Yes, I was so mad,” smiled Hilary, “and mortified! But that lively
little fellow was so cute and handsome that I’ve had more patience
with English Sparrows since, for all my disgust that time. I was only
too thankful that I had not handed in my report before I found out
what he was!”
As the days went by, the blossoms fell from the pink and white
dreams that went by the names of plum, peach, apple or pear trees.
The leaves changed from the green mists that shrouded the trees in
early May to the waving foliage which hid the nest-building birds.
The boathouse was opened, the life-saving watchmen out for the
season.
Canoeing and rowing began on river and lake, and picnics or
beach parties were common. As Cathalina and Hilary had learned to
row the summer before, many a jolly pull they had, together or with
other girls, particularly Betty Barnes and Lilian North. Lilian had
come to be as “chummy” with Hilary as Betty was with Cathalina,
though neither friendship interfered in the least with the strong
affection between Cathalina and Hilary.
“Hil and Lil,” chanted Cathalina one afternoon when the four were
bobbing on the gentle waves.
“That rhyme may come in handy for your next class song,”
suggested Betty.
“I write no more by sea or shore,” sang Cathalina, losing her
stroke and dashing them all with spray.
“Say it not,” protested Lilian. “How about themes?”
“What is the use of being so practical, Lil?” rejoined Cathalina.
“Father says that poets don’t have to be consistent!”
Betty was leaning over, trailing her hand in the water. “I think I
saw a shark then, or maybe a whale,” she said dreamily.
“Goosey, they don’t have ’em here,” chided Lilian.
Betty looked at her solemnly. “Don’t they? Thank you. Anyway I
heard Mickey—Boathouse,—whatever his name is over there—say
that there is an awful monster in this lake sometimes. It has a long
neck, and head like a snake, and breathes fire, I guess, and,—”
“Don’t Betty!” cried Cathalina, “you give me the shivers and it’s
too glorious this afternoon. Did Mickey say we couldn’t go out
beyond the breakwater?”
“Yes; and it’s on the printed rules, too.”
“All right. Back we go, then.” Cathalina carefully turned the boat
and started shoreward. “Strike up, Lil, do!”
Lilian, who had her guitar, strummed a few chords, feeling for an
easy key, then led off in pathetic tones:—

O, I wish I were a mermaid,

With scales instead of clo’es,
I’d float upon the billows,
Where no one ever goes!
I’d comb my hair and sing of love,
And bat my sea-green eyes,—
 O,—I wish I were a mermaid
Beneath the blue lake skies!
Mermaid!
Mermaid!
Slipp’ry, fishy mermaid!
O,—
I wish I were a mermaid,
Beneath the blue lake skies!

O, I wish I were a mermaid,

I’d never read a book,
But hold a pretty mirror
And at my beauty look!
I’d rest me in a coral cave,
Or swim where Neptune rides,—
O,—I wish I were a mermaid
To cleave the foaming tides!
Mermaid!
Mermaid!
Slipp’ry, fishy mermaid!—
O,—
I wish I were a mermaid,
Beneath the blue lake skies.

“That awful minor tune, Lil,” laughed Betty. “Did you make up the
words, too?”
Lilian only nodded assent, having no other means of reply with
fingers and voice both engaged. Betty joined with the rest, earnestly
wishing to be mermaids, and in fine style they glided up to the little
dock where watchful Mickey helped them out and tied up the boat.
 CHAPTER XIX
THE GHOST PARTY

Greycliff “mysteries” had long since ceased to interest our girls.

Isabel had lost her concern about the “Woman in Black” and the
“mysterious” girl had been swallowed up with the rest into the busy
life of the school. Her name had proved simple enough. “Miss Louise
Holley, O, isn’t she jolly?” rhymed Betty, rather satirically; but the
new girl had laid aside her attitude of distance and tried to make
herself agreeable to the other girls. Like Cathalina, she recited
irregularly with the Academy and Collegiate girls, was in Cathalina’s
class in literature, recited in Senior Academy Latin with Lilian and
belonged to the bird club which included both Hilary and Cathalina.
The girls wondered about her age, as girls do, and Cathalina
occasionally caught the resemblance to “somebody” which had
puzzled her from the first. “It isn’t connected with a pleasant feeling,
girls, but I can’t tell why and I’m sure it isn’t fair to this nice girl to
think of it.”
“She was probably sore over things at first,” said Isabel.
The conclusion was that Miss Holley was about eighteen or
nineteen years old and was “back” in some of her studies. She kept
to herself quite a little, but was often found in the groups of
Collegiate girls. From the single room on the first floor she had been
moved to one not far from the little suite occupied by Isabel and
Avalon, though her room was on a different hall. Occasionally she
would call in one or the other of these girls to hook up a dress or do
some little thing for her and reward them liberally with candy, fruit
or nuts. Isabel was an independent little thing and did not like it
much. “Let her get some of the real little girls to do things!” she
growled.
“Why, Isabel, I don’t think that’s kind!”
 “Well, Avalon, you don’t notice my not wanting to do things for
other people, do you? But she’s so overbearing. I hate to be bossed,
but I s’pose it is wicked.”
“I don’t mind; and she’s always been so pleasant to me. I feel so
sorry about her father. Isn’t it funny she hasn’t any picture of him in
her room?”
“That’s so. I never thought of it before,—but she hasn’t a sign of
a photograph around.”
“I suppose it makes her feel too bad. I’ve found out by this time
that all girls aren’t alike.”
“You don’t mean it! What a philosopher!” Cathalina, overhearing
the last remark, joined the two younger girls.
“Don’t you make fun of me, Cathalina V. B. I heard you say almost
the same thing the other day. Besides, anybody might have noticed
it.”
There was a rustic seat near the corner of Greycliff Hall on the
side of the grove, and there Avalon, Isabel and Cathalina waited the
approach of Hilary and Lilian, who came swinging tennis racquets. It
was so lovely out of doors on these evenings after dinner that
campus, beach and woods were always sprinkled with these living
flowers of spring till the study bell rang. Hammocks were up, and
freshly painted swings had come out of winter quarters.
Hilary dropped upon a grassy seat and waved an answer to Eloise
who now called and came running over the campus, her hands full
of the violets which she had been gathering. “O, girls, you’re all
invited to a Ghost Party tonight.”
“A ‘Ghost Party’!” repeated Hilary. “That sounds interesting,—and
what may a ghost party be?”
Isabel sprang to her feet and began an exaggerated display of
shivering, her teeth chattering, chin wobbling and eyes as big as
saucers. “Who’s got my golden ar-rr-rrm?” she wailed.
“Ha! The Woman in Black!” added Hilary. “That’s about the way
you looked, Isabel, when you thought you saw her.”
“When I did see her, you mean. Who’s giving the party?” Isabel
asked of Eloise, and turning to Hilary, again continued, “Say no
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