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diff --git a/36684-h/36684-h.htm b/36684-h/36684-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85b9f40 --- /dev/null +++ b/36684-h/36684-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9630 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Molly Brown’s Freshman Days, by Nell Speed. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + +h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + +h1 {line-height: 180%; margin-top: 3em;} +h2 {line-height: 180%; font-size: 110%;} + +p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + +p.tp {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%; + line-height: 160%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} + +hr.l1 {width: 60%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} +hr.l2 {width: 30%; margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 4em; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-size: 90%;} +td.col1 {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em; vertical-align: top;} +td.col2 {text-align: left; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; + vertical-align: top; font-variant: small-caps;} +td.col3 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} +td.col4 {text-align: left; padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; + vertical-align: top;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 94%; font-size: 60%; + text-align: right; color: #999999;} + +.blockquot {margin-top: 1.4em; margin-bottom: 1.4em; font-size: 90%; + margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + +.smallnote {margin-top: 1.4em; margin-bottom: 1.4em; font-size: 90%; + margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; max-width: 26em;} + +.placard {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; + line-height: 200%; font-size: 80%;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.caption {font-size: 80%; font-weight: normal;} + +.r4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.rght1 {float: right; margin-right: 5%; font-variant: small-caps;} +.rght2 {float: right; margin-right: 10%;} +.rght3 {float: right; margin-right: 15%;} + +.figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center; max-width: 400px; + padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;} +.figcover {margin: auto; text-align: center; + padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + +.centered {text-align: center; margin: auto; display: table;} +.poem {text-align: left;} +.poem br {display: none;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem span.i0a {display: block; margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3.4em;} +.poem span.i0b {display: block; margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3.8em;} +.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1.2em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2.4em; + padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding: .5em 1em .5em 1em; font-size: 80%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Molly Brown's Freshman Days, by Nell Speed + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Molly Brown's Freshman Days + +Author: Nell Speed + +Illustrator: Charles L. Wrenn + +Release Date: July 10, 2011 [EBook #36684] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S FRESHMAN DAYS *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, +eagkw and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcover"> +<img src="images/molly1cover.jpg" width="451" height="650" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/molly1pl1.jpg" width="400" height="617" alt="“I think my trunk is on this train,” she said.—Page 7." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">“I think my trunk is on this train,” she said.—<i><a href="#Page_7">Page 7.</a></i></span> +</div> + + +<h1>MOLLY BROWN’S<br /> +FRESHMAN DAYS</h1> + +<p class="tp">By<br /> +<big>NELL SPEED</big></p> + +<p class="tp"><i>WITH FOUR HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> +BY CHARLES L. WRENN</i></p> + +<p class="tp">NEW YORK<br /> +<big>HURST & COMPANY</big><br /> +PUBLISHERS +</p> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<p class="tp"><small>Copyright, 1912,<br /> +BY</small><br /> +HURST & COMPANY +</p> +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td class="col1"><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td class="col2"> </td><td class="col3"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">I.</td><td class="col2">Wellington</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">II.</td><td class="col2">Their Neighbor</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">III.</td><td class="col2">The Professor</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">IV.</td><td class="col2">A Busy Day</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">V.</td><td class="col2">The Kentucky Spread</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VI.</td><td class="col2">Knotty Problems</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VII.</td><td class="col2">An Incident of the Coffee Cups</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VIII.</td><td class="col2">Concerning Clubs,—and a Tea +Party</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">IX.</td><td class="col2">Rumors and Mysteries</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">X.</td><td class="col2">Jokes and Croaks</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XI.</td><td class="col2">Exmoor College</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XII.</td><td class="col2">Sunday Morning Breakfast</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIII.</td><td class="col2">Trickery</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_164">164</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIV.</td><td class="col2">An Inspiration</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XV.</td><td class="col2">Planning and Wishing</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVI.</td><td class="col2">The McLean Supper</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_204">204</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVII.</td><td class="col2">A Midnight Adventure</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVIII.</td><td class="col2">The Football Game</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIX.</td><td class="col2">Three Friends</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XX.</td><td class="col2">Miss Steel</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XXI.</td><td class="col2">A Bachelor’s Pocket</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XXII.</td><td class="col2">Christmas—Mid-Years—and the Wanderthirst</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XXIII.</td><td class="col2">Sophomores at Last</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="l2"/> + + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td class="col4">“I think my trunk is on this train,” she +said.</td><td class="col3"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4"> </td><td class="col3"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">“I wish you would tell me your receipt for +making friends, Molly,” exclaimed Nance.</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly1pl2">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">“I’m scared to death,” she announced. Then +she struck a chord and began.</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly1pl3">60</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">It was quite the custom for girls to prepare +breakfasts in their rooms.</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly1pl4">152</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="l2"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>Molly Brown’s Freshman Days</h1> + + +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br /> + +<small>WELLINGTON.</small></h2> + + +<p>“Wellington! Wellington!” called the conductor.</p> + +<p>The train drew up at a platform, and as if by +magic a stream of girls came pouring out of the +pretty stucco station with its sloping red roof +and mingled with another stream of girls emptying +itself from the coaches. Everywhere appeared +girls,—leaping from omnibuses; hurrying +down the gravel walk from the village; hastening +along the University drive; girls on foot; girls +on bicycles; girls running, and girls strolling arm +in arm.</p> + +<p>Few of them wore hats; many of them wore +sweaters and short walking skirts of white duck +or serge, and across the front of each sweater<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +was embroidered a large “W” in cadet blue, the +mystic color of Wellington University.</p> + +<p>In the midst of a shouting, gesticulating mob +stood Mr. Murphy, baggage master, smiling +good naturedly.</p> + +<p>“Now, young ladies, one at a time, please. +We’ve brought down all the baggage left over +by the 9.45. If your trunk ain’t on this train, +it’ll come on the next. All in good time, please.”</p> + +<p>A tall girl with auburn hair and deep blue eyes +approached the group. There was a kind of awkward +grace about her, the grace which was hers +by rights and the awkwardness which comes of +growing too fast. She wore a shabby brown +homespun suit, a shade darker than her hair, and +on her head was an old brown felt which had +plainly seen service the year before.</p> + +<p>But knotted at her neck was a tie of burnt-orange +silk which seemed to draw attention away +from the shiny seams and frayed hem and to cry +aloud:</p> + +<p>“Look at me. I am the color of a winter sunset. +Never mind the other old togs.”</p> + +<p>Surely there was something very brave and +jaunty about this young girl who now pushed her +way through the crowd of students and endeavored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +to engage the attention of the baggage-master.</p> + +<p><a href="#frontispiece">“I think my trunk was on this train,” she said</a> +timidly. “I hope it is. It came from Louisville +to Philadelphia safely, and when I re-checked it +they told me it would be on this train.”</p> + +<p>Now, Murphy, the baggage master, had his +own peculiar method of conducting business, and +it was strictly a partial and prejudiced one. If +he liked the face of a student, he always waited +on her first, regardless of how many other students +were ahead of her; and, as he told his wife +later, he “took a fancy to that overgrown gal +from the fust.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, but Mr. Murphy is engaged,” +put in a haughty looking young woman +with black eyes that snapped angrily.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Judith,” said the baggage master, +who knew many of the students by name, “don’t +go fer to git excited. I ain’t made no promises +to no one. It’s plain to see this here young lady +is a newcomer, and, as sich, she gits my fust consideration.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, please excuse me,” said the girl in shabby +brown. “I’m not used to—I mean I haven’t traveled +very much.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judith turned irritably away.</p> + +<p>“I should think you hadn’t,” she said in a low +voice, but loud enough to be overheard. “Freshies +have a lot to learn and one is to respect their +elders.”</p> + +<p>The new girl put down her straw suit case and +leaned against the wall of the station. She looked +tired and there was a streak of soot across her +cheek. The trip from Kentucky in this warm +September weather was not the pleasantest journey +in the world. While she waited for Mr. Murphy +to return with news of her trunk, her attention +was claimed by two girls standing at her +elbow who were talking cheerfully together.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said one of them, a plump, brown-eyed +girl with brown hair, a slightly turned-up nose +and a humorous twitch to her lips, “I have a +room at Queen’s cottage. It’s the best I could +do unless I went into one of the expensive suites +in the dormitories, and you know I might as well +expect to take the royal suite on the Mauretania +and sail for Europe as do that.”</p> + +<p>The other girl laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’d be quite up to doing anything with +your enterprising ways, Nance Oldham,” she exclaimed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, are you going to Queen’s cottage?” here +broke in the girl in shabby brown. “I’m there, +too. My name is Molly Brown. I come from +Kentucky. I feel awfully forlorn and homesick +arriving at the University station without knowing +a soul.”</p> + +<p>There was a kind of ringing note to Molly +Brown’s voice which made the other girls listen +more closely.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if she doesn’t sing,” thought Nance +Oldham, giving her a quick, scrutinizing glance. +“Yes, I am at Queen’s cottage,” she continued +aloud, “but that’s about all I can tell you. I feel +like a greeny, too. We’ll soon learn, I suppose. +This is Miss Brinton, Miss Brown.”</p> + +<p>Caroline Brinton was rather a nondescript +young person with dreamy eyes and an absent-minded +manner. She came from Philadelphia, +and she greeted the new acquaintance rather +coldly.</p> + +<p>“Your trunk ain’t here, yet, Miss,” called the +baggage master. “Like enough it’ll come on the +6.50.”</p> + +<p>Molly looked disturbed, while the black-eyed +Judith standing nearby flashed a triumphant +smile, as much as to say:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It only serves you right for pushing in out +of turn.”</p> + +<p>“What are we to do now?” she asked of her +new friends, rather helplessly.</p> + +<p>“Take the ’bus up to Wellington,” said brisk +Nance Oldham. “I know that much. There’s +one filling up now. We’d better hurry and get +seats.”</p> + +<p>The three girls crowded into the long, narrow +side-seated vehicle already half filled with students. +Even at this early stage in their acquaintance, +the bonds of loneliness and sympathy had +drawn them together.</p> + +<p>“I’m a stranger in a strange land,” Molly +Brown had confided to the listening ear of Nance +Oldham. “I had made up my mind not to be +homesick. I really didn’t know what the feeling +was like, because I have never had a chance to +learn. But I know now it’s a kind of an all-gone +sensation. I suppose little orphans have it when +they first go into an orphan asylum.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ll soon get over it,” answered Nance. +“It’s because you live so far away. Kentucky, +didn’t you say?”</p> + +<p>Molly nodded and looked the other way. The +memory of an old brick house with broad piazzas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +and many windows blurred her vision for a moment. +But she resolutely pressed her lips together +and began to watch the passing scenery, +as new and strange to her as the scenery in a +foreign land.</p> + +<p>The road leading to Wellington University +skirted a pretty village and then plunged straight +into the country between rolling meadow lands +tinged a golden brown with the autumn sun. +And there in the distance were the gray towers +of Wellington, silhouetted against the sky like a +mediæval castle.</p> + +<p>Molly Brown clasped her hands and smiled a +heavenly smile.</p> + +<p>“Is that it?” she exclaimed rapturously.</p> + +<p>“It must be,” answered Nance, who also felt +some quiet and reserved flutterings.</p> + +<p>“It is,” said Miss Brinton. “I came down to +engage my room, so I know.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime, there was a busy conversation +going on around them.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to cut gym this year. It interferes +too much,” exclaimed a tiny girl with birdlike +motions and intelligent, beady little eyes as bright +and alert as the eyes of a little brown bird.</p> + +<p>But evidently Molly was not the only person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +who had noticed this resemblance, for one of the +students called out:</p> + +<p>“Now, Jennie Wren, you must admit that gym +never had any charms for you and it’s a great +relief to give it up.”</p> + +<p>“Of course she must,” put in another girl. +“The only exercise Jennie Wren ever takes is to +hop about on the lawn and prune her feathers.”</p> + +<p>“Never!” cried Jennie Wren. “I never wear +them, not even quills. I belong to the S. P. C. A.”</p> + +<p>“Is there much out-of-door life here?” asked +Molly Brown, of a tall, somewhat older girl sitting +opposite her.</p> + +<p>“This new girl may have timid manners,” +thought Nance Oldham; “but she is not afraid to +talk to strangers. I suppose that’s the friendly +Southern way. She hasn’t been in Wellington +a quarter of an hour and she has already made +three friends,—Caroline and the station-master +and me. And now she’s getting on famously +with that older girl. What I like about her is +that she isn’t a bit self-conscious and she takes it +for granted everybody’s going to be kind.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, lots of it,” the older girl was saying +to Molly kindly. “If you have a taste for that +kind of thing, you may indulge it to your heart’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +content. There is a splendid swimming pool attached +to the gym, and there are golf links, of +course. You know they are quite famous in this +part of the world. Then, there are the tennis +courts, and we’ll still have some canoeing on +the lake before the weather gets too cold and +later glorious skating. Besides all that, there +are perfectly ripping walks for miles around. The +college has several Saturday afternoon walking +clubs.”</p> + +<p>“But don’t these things interfere with—with +lectures?” asked Molly, who was really quite ignorant +regarding college life, although she had +passed her entrance examinations without any +conditions whatever.</p> + +<p>The older girl laughed pleasantly. She was +not good looking, but she had a fine face and +Molly liked her immensely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, you’ll find there’s plenty of time for +everything you want to get in, because most +things have their season, and most girls specialize, +anyhow. A golf fiend is seldom a tennis +fiend, and there are lots of walking fiends who +don’t like either.”</p> + +<p>Molly’s liking for this big girl and her grave, +fine face increased as the conversation progressed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +She had a most reassuring, kindly +manner and Molly noticed that the other girls +treated her with a kind of deferential respect +and called her “Miss Stewart.” She learned +afterward that Miss Stewart was a senior and +a member of the “Octogons,” the most coveted +society in the University. She led in all the athletic +sports, was quite a wonderful musician and +had composed an operetta for her class and most +of the music for the class songs. It was whispered +also that she was very rich, though no one +would ever have guessed this secret from Mary +Stewart herself, who was careful never to allude +to money and dressed very simply and +plainly.</p> + +<p>The omnibus now turned into the avenue which +led to the college campus and there was general +excitement of a subdued sort among the new +girls and greetings and calls from the older girls +as they caught glimpses of friends strolling on +the lawn.</p> + +<p>“Queen’s Cottage,” called the driver and Molly +stood up promptly, shrinking a little as twenty +pairs of eyes turned curiously in her direction.</p> + +<p>Then the big girl leaned over and took her +hand kindly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Won’t you look me up to-morrow?” she said. +“My name is Mary Stewart, and I stop at No. +16 on the Quadrangle. Perhaps I can help you +get things straightened out a bit and show you +the ropes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you,” said Molly, with that musical +ring to her voice which never failed to thrill +her hearers. “It’s awfully nice of you. What +time shall I come?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see you in Chapel in the morning, and +we’ll fix the time then,” called Miss Stewart as +Molly climbed out, dragging her straw telescope +over the knees of the other passengers, followed +by Nance Oldham, who had waited for her to +take the initiative.</p> + +<p>As the two girls stood watching the disappearing +vehicle, they became the prey to the most +extreme loneliness.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I had just left the tumbrel on the +way to my execution,” observed Molly, trying to +laugh, although the corners of her mouth turned +persistently down.</p> + +<p>“But, anyway, I’m glad we are together,” she +continued, slipping her arm through Nance’s. +“Queen’s Cottage does seem so remote and lonesome, +doesn’t it? Just a thing apart.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two girls gazed uncertainly at the rather +dismal-looking shingled house, stained brown +and covered with a mantle of old vines which appeared +to have been prematurely stripped of their +foliage. It was somewhat isolated, at least it +seemed so at first. The next house was quite +half a block on and was a cheerful place, all +stucco and red roof like the station.</p> + +<p>“Well, here goes,” Molly went on. “If it’s +Queen’s, why then, so be it,” and she marched +up the walk and rang the front door bell, which +resounded through the hall with a metallic clang.</p> + +<p>“Shure, I’m after bein’ wit’ you in a moment,” +called a voice from above. “You’re the new +young ladies, I’m thinkin’, and glad I am to see +you.”</p> + +<p>There was the sound of heavy footsteps down +the stairs and the door was opened by Mrs. Murphy, +wife of the baggage master and housekeeper +for Queen’s Cottage. She was a middle-aged +Irish woman with a round, good-natured face +and she beamed on the girls with motherly interest +as she ushered them into the parlor.</p> + +<p>“Since ye be the fust comers, ye may be the +fust choosers,” she said; “and if ye be friends, ye +may like to be roommates, surely, and that’s a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +good thing. It’s better to room with a friend +than a stranger.”</p> + +<p>The two girls looked at each other with a new +interest. It had not occurred to them that they +might be roommates, but had not they already, +with the swiftness peculiar to girls, bridged the +gulf which separates total strangers, and were +now on the very verge of plunging into intimate +friendship? Would it not be better to seize this +opportunity than to wait for other chances which +might not prove so agreeable?</p> + +<p>“Shall we not?” asked Molly with that charming, +cordial manner which appeared to win her +friends wherever she went.</p> + +<p>“It would be a great relief,” answered Nance, +who was yet to learn the value of showing real +pleasure when she felt it. Nevertheless, Nance, +under her whimsical, rather sarcastic outer shell, +had a warm and loyal heart.</p> + +<p>Thus Molly Brown and Nance Oldham, quite +opposites in looks and temperaments, became +roommates during their freshman year at Wellington +College and thus, from this small beginning, +the seeds of a life-long friendship were +sown.</p> + +<p>The two girls chose a big sunny room on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +third floor looking over a portion of the golf +links. Molly liked it because it had blue wallpaper +and Nance because it had a really commodious +closet.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER II.<br /> + +<small>THEIR NEIGHBOR.</small></h2> + + +<p>Molly Brown was the youngest member of a +numerous family of older brothers and sisters. +Her father had been dead many years, and in order +to rear and educate her children, Mrs. Brown +had been obliged to mortgage, acre by acre, the +fine old place where Molly and her brothers and +sisters had been born and brought up. Every +time anybody in the Brown family wanted to do +anything that was particularly nice, something +had to go, either a cow or a colt or a piece of +land, according to the needs of the moment. A +two-acre lot represented Molly’s college education—two +perfectly good acres of orchard.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t bring back at least one golden +apple in return for all these nice juicy ones that +are going for your education, Molly, you are no +child of mine,” Mrs. Brown had laughingly exclaimed +when she kissed her daughter good-bye.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring back the three golden apples of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +Hesperides, mother, and make the family rich +and happy,” cried Molly, and from that moment +the three golden apples became a secret symbol +to her, although she had not decided in her mind +exactly what they represented.</p> + +<p>“But,” as Molly observed to herself, “anybody +who has had two acres of winter sweets, pippins +and greenings spent on her, must necessarily engage +to win a few.”</p> + +<p>Those two fruitful acres, however, while they +provided a fund for an education, did not extend +far into the margin and there was little left for +clothes. That was perhaps one of the reasons +why Molly had felt so disturbed about the delay +in receiving her trunk.</p> + +<p>“I can stand traveling in this old brown rag +for economy’s sake,” she thought; “but I would +like to put on the one decent thing I own for my +first day at college. I was a chump not to have +brought something in my suit case besides a +blouse. However, what’s done can’t be undone,” +and she stoically went to work to remove the +stains of travel and put on a fresh blue linen +shirtwaist; while Nance Oldham, who had been +more far-sighted, made herself spic and span in +a duck skirt and a white linen blouse. She had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +little to say during the process of making her +toilet, and Molly wondered if, after all, she would +like a roommate so peculiarly reserved and whimsical +as this new friend. She hoped there would +be lots of nice girls in the house of the right +sort, girls who meant business, for while Molly +meant to enjoy herself immensely, she meant +business decidedly, and she didn’t want to get into +a play set and be torn away from her studies. +As these thoughts flitted through her mind she +heard voices coming up the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mrs. Murphy, I do hope you’ve got +something really decent. You know, I hadn’t expected +to come back this year. I thought I would +stay in France with grandmamma, but at the last +moment I changed my mind, and I’ve come right +here from the ship without engaging a thing at +all. I’ll take anything that’s a single.”</p> + +<p>The voice had a spoiled, imperious sound, like +that of a person in the habit of having her own +way.</p> + +<p>“I have a single, Miss, but it’s a small one, and +they do say you’ve got a deal of belongings.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see it. Let’s see it, quick, Granny Murphy,” +and from the noise without our two young +persons judged that this despotic stranger had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +placed her hands on Mrs. Murphy’s shoulders and +was running her along the passage.</p> + +<p>“Now, you’ll be giving me apoplexy, Miss, +surely, with your goings-on,” cried the woman +breathlessly, as she opened the door next theirs.</p> + +<p>“Who’s in there? Two freshies?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss. They only just arrived an hour +ago.”</p> + +<p>“Greenies from Greenville, Green County,” +chanted the young woman, who did not seem to +mind being overheard by the entire household. +“Very well, I’ll take this little hole-in-the-wall. +I won’t move any of my things in, except some +books and cushions. And now, off wit’ yer. +Here’s something for your trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss.”</p> + +<p>The two girls seemed to hear the Irish woman +being shoved out in the hall. Then the door was +banged after her and was locked.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, what an obstreperous person,” observed +Nance. “I wonder if she’s going to give +us a continuous performance.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Molly. “She’ll be a +noisy neighbor if she does. But she sounds interesting, +living in France with her grandmamma +and so on.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nance glanced at her watch.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t you like to go for a stroll before +supper? We have an hour yet. I’m dying to +see the famous Quadrangle and the Cloisters and +a few other celebrated spots I’ve heard about. +Aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“And incidentally rub off a little of our greenness,” +said Molly, recalling the words of the girl +next door.</p> + +<p>As the two girls closed the door to their room +and paused on the landing, the door adjoining +burst open and a human whirlwind blew out of +the single room and almost knocked them over.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Nance stiffly, giving +the human whirlwind a long, cool, brown glance.</p> + +<p>Molly, a little behind her friend, examined the +stranger with much curiosity. She could not +quite tell why she had imagined her to be a small +black-eyed, black-haired person, when here stood +a tall, very beautiful young woman. Her hair +was light brown and perfectly straight. She had +peculiarly passionate, fiery eyes of very dark +gray, of the “smouldering kind,” as Nance described +them later; her features were regular and +her mouth so expressive of her humors that her +friends could almost read her thoughts by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +curve of her sensitive lips. Even in that flashing +glimpse the girls could see that she was beautifully +dressed in a white serge suit and a stunning +hat of dull blue, trimmed with wings.</p> + +<p>But instead of continuing her mad rush, which +seemed to be her usual manner of doing things, +the young woman became suddenly a zephyr of +mildness and gentleness.</p> + +<p>“Excuse my precipitate methods,” she said. “I +never do things slowly, even when there’s no occasion +to hurry. It’s my way, I suppose. Are +you freshmen? Perhaps you’d like for me to +show you around college. I’m a soph. I’m fairly +familiar.”</p> + +<p>Nance pressed her lips together. She was not +in the habit of making friends off-hand. Molly, +in fact, was almost her first experience in this +kind of friendship. But Molly Brown, who had +never consciously done a rude thing in her life, +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“That would be awfully nice. Thanks, we’ll +come.”</p> + +<p>They followed her rather timidly down the +steps. Across the campus the pile of gray buildings, +in the September twilight, more than ever +resembled a fine old castle. As they hastened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +along, the sophomore gave them each a quick, +comprehensive glance.</p> + +<p>“My name is Frances Andrews,” she began +suddenly, and added with a peculiar intonation, +“I was called ‘Frank’ last year. I’m so glad we +are to be neighbors. I hope we shall have lots +of good times together.”</p> + +<p>Molly considered this a particular mark of +good nature on the part of an older girl to two +freshmen, and she promptly made known their +names to Frances Andrews. All this time Nance +had remained impassive and quiet.</p> + +<p>Ten girls, arm in arm, were strolling toward +them across the soft green turf of the campus, +singing as in one voice to the tune of “Maryland, +My Maryland”:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“Oh, Wellington, My Wellington,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, how I love my Wellington!”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Suddenly Frances Andrews, who was walking +between the two young girls, took them each +firmly by the arm and led them straight across +the campus, giving the ten girls a wide berth. +There was so much fierce determination in her +action that Molly and Nance looked at her with +amazement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Are those seniors?” asked Nance, thinking +perhaps it was not college etiquette to break +through a line of established and dignified characters +like seniors.</p> + +<p>“No; they are sophomores singing their class +song,” answered Frances.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you a sophomore?” demanded Nance +quickly.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Curious she doesn’t want to meet her +friends,” thought Molly.</p> + +<p>But there were more interesting sights to occupy +her attention just then.</p> + +<p>They had reached the great gray stone archway +which formed the entrance to the Quadrangle, +a grassy courtyard enclosed on all sides by +the walls of the building. Heavy oak doors of an +antique design opened straight onto the court +from the various corridors and lecture rooms and +at one end was the library, a beautiful room with +a groined roof and stained glass windows, like +a chapel. Low stone benches were ranged along +the arcade of the court, whereon sat numerous +girls laughing and talking together.</p> + +<p>Although she considered that undue honors +were being paid them by having as guide this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +dashing sophomore, somehow Molly still felt the +icy grip of homesickness on her heart. Nance +seemed so unsympathetic and reserved and there +was a kind of hardness about this Frances Andrews +that made the warm-hearted, affectionate +Molly a bit uncomfortable. Suddenly Nance +spied her old friend, Caroline Brinton, in the +distance, and rushed over to join her. As she +left, three girls came toward them, talking animatedly.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Jennie Wren!” called Frances gayly. +It was the same little bird-like person who had +been in the bus. “Howdy, Rosamond. How are +you, Lotta? It’s awfully nice to be back at the +old stand again. Let me introduce you to my new +almost-roommate, Miss Brown,” went on Frances +hurriedly, as if to fill up the gaps of silence which +greeted them.</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Miss Andrews,” said Jennie +Wren, stiffly.</p> + +<p>Rosamond Chase, who had a plump figure and +a round, good-natured face, was slightly warmer +in her greeting.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Frankie? I thought you were +going to France this winter.”</p> + +<p>The other girl who had a turned-up nose and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +blonde hair, and was called “Peggy Parsons,” +sniffed slightly and put her hands behind her +back as if she wished to avoid shaking hands.</p> + +<p>Molly was so shocked that she felt the tears +rising to her eyes. “I wish I had never come to +college,” she thought, “if this is the way old +friends treat each other.”</p> + +<p>She slipped her arm through Frances Andrews’ +and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you show me the Cloisters?” she said. +“I’m pining to see what they are like.”</p> + +<p>“Come along,” said Frances, quite cheerfully, +in spite of the fact that she had just been snubbed +by three of her own classmates.</p> + +<p>Lifting the latch of a small oak door fitted +under a pointed arch, she led the way through +a passage to another oak door which opened directly +on the Cloisters. Molly gave an exclamation +of pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she cried, “are we really allowed to walk +in this wonderful place?”</p> + +<p>“As much as you like before six P. M.,” answered +Frances. “How do you do, Miss Pembroke?”</p> + +<p>A tall woman with a grave, handsome face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +was waiting under the arched arcade to go +through the door.</p> + +<p>“So you decided to come back to us, Miss Andrews. +I’m very glad of it. Come into my office +a moment. I want a few words with you before +supper.”</p> + +<p>“You can find your way back to Queen’s by +yourself, can’t you, Miss Brown?” asked Frances. +“I’ll see you later.”</p> + +<p>And in another moment, Molly Brown was +quite alone in the Cloisters. She was glad to be +alone. She wanted to think. She paced slowly +along the cloistered walk, each stone arch of +which framed a picture of the grassy court with +an Italian fountain in the center.</p> + +<p>“It’s exactly like an old monastery,” she said +to herself. “I wonder anybody could ever be +frivolous or flippant in such an old world spot +as this. I could easily imagine myself a monk, +telling my beads.”</p> + +<p>She sat down on a stone bench and folded her +hands meditatively.</p> + +<p>“So far, I’ve really only made one friend at +college,” she thought to herself, for Nance Oldham +was too reserved to be called a friend yet, +“and that friend is Frances Andrews. Who is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +she? What is she? Why do her classmates +snub her and why did Miss Pembroke, who +belonged to the faculty, wish to speak with +her in her private office?” It was all queer, very +queer. Somehow, it seemed to Molly now that +what she had taken for whirlwind manners was +really a tremendous excitement under which +Frances Andrews was laboring. She was trying +to brazen out something.</p> + +<p>“Just the same, I’m sorry for her,” she said +out loud.</p> + +<p>At that moment, a musical, deep-throated bell +boomed out six times in the stillness of the cloisters. +There was the sound of a door opening, a +pause and the door closed with a clicking noise. +Molly started from her reverie. It was six +o’clock. She rushed to the door of antique design +through which she had entered just fifteen +minutes before. It was closed and locked securely. +She knocked loudly and called:</p> + +<p>“Let me out! Let me out! I’m locked in!”</p> + +<p>Then she waited, but no one answered. In the +stillness of the twilit courtyard she could hear +the sounds of laughter and talking from the +Quadrangle. They grew fainter and fainter. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +gray chill settled down over the place and Molly +looked about her with a feeling of utter desolation. +She had been locked in the Cloisters for +the night.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER III.<br /> + +<small>THE PROFESSOR.</small></h2> + + +<p>Molly beat and kicked on the door wildly. Then +she called again and again but her voice came +back to her in a ghostly echo through the dim +aisles of the cloistered walk. She sat down on a +bench and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>How tired and hungry and homesick she was! +How she wished she had never heard of college, +cold, unfriendly place where people insulted old +friends and they locked doors at six o’clock. The +chill of the evening had fallen and the stars were +beginning to show themselves in the square of +blue over the Cloisters. Molly shivered and folded +her arms. She had not worn her coat and her +blue linen blouse was damp with dew.</p> + +<p>“Can this be the only door into the Cloisters?” +she thought after the first attack of homesick +weeping had passed.</p> + +<p>She rose and began to search along the arcade +which was now almost black. There were doors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +at intervals but all of them locked. She knocked +on each one and waited patiently.</p> + +<p>“Oh, heavens, let me get out of this place to-night,” +she prayed, lifting her eyes to the stars +with an agonized expression. Suddenly, the high +mullioned window under which she was standing, +glowed with a light just struck. Then, someone +opened a casement and a man’s voice called:</p> + +<p>“Is anyone there? I thought I heard a cry.”</p> + +<p>“I am,” said Molly, trying to stifle the sobs +that would rise in her throat. “I’ve been locked +in, or rather out.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you poor child,” exclaimed the voice +again. “Wait a moment and I’ll open the +door.”</p> + +<p>There were sounds of steps along the passage; +a heavy bolt was thrust back and a door held +open while Molly rushed into the passage like a +frightened bird out of the dark.</p> + +<p>“It’s lucky I happened to be in my study this +evening,” said the man, leading the way toward +a square of light in the dark corridor. “Of +course the night watchman would have made his +rounds at eight, but an hour’s suspense out there +in the cold and dark would have been very disagreeable. +How in the world did it happen?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>By this time they had reached the study and +Molly found herself in a cozy little room lined +from ceiling to floor with books. On the desk +was a tray of supper. The owner of the study +was a studious looking young man with kindly, +quizzical brown eyes under shaggy eyebrows, a +firm mouth and a cleft in his chin, which Molly +had always heard was a mark of beauty in a +woman.</p> + +<p>“You must be a freshman?” he said looking at +her with a shade of amusement in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“I am,” replied Molly, bravely trying to keep +her voice from shaking. “I only arrived an hour +or so ago. I—I didn’t know they would lock——” +She broke down altogether and slipping into a big +wicker chair sobbed bitterly. “Oh, I wish—I +wish I’d stayed at home.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you poor little girl,” exclaimed the man. +“You have had a beastly time for your first day +at college, but you’ll come to like it better and +better all the time. Come, dry your eyes and I’ll +start you on your way to your lodgings. Where +are you stopping?”</p> + +<p>“Queen’s.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you drink some hot soup before you +go. It will warm you up,” he added kindly, taking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +a cup of hot bouillon from the tray and placing +it on the arm of her chair.</p> + +<p>“But it’s your supper,” stammered Molly.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, there’s plenty more. Do as I tell +you,” he ordered. “I’m a professor, you know, +so you’ll have to obey me or I’ll scold.”</p> + +<p>Molly drank the soup without a word. It did +comfort her considerably and presently she looked +up at the professor and said:</p> + +<p>“I’m all right now. I hope you’ll excuse me +for being so silly and weak. You see I felt so +far away and lonesome and it’s an awful feeling +to be locked out in the cold about a thousand +miles from home. I never was before.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I should have felt the same in your +place,” answered the professor. “I should probably +have imagined I saw the ghosts of monks +dead and gone, who might have walked there if +the Cloisters had been several hundreds of years +older, and I would certainly have made the echoes +ring with my calls for help. The Cloisters are +all right for ‘concentration’ and ‘meditation,’ +which I believe is what they are intended to be +used for on a warm, sunny day; but they are cold +comfort after sunset.”</p> + +<p>“Is this your study?” asked Molly, rising and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +looking about her with interest, as she started +toward the door.</p> + +<p>“I should say that this was my play room,” he +replied, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Play room?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, this is where I hide from work and begin +to play.” He glanced at a pile of manuscript +on his desk.</p> + +<p>“I reckon work is play and play is work to +you,” observed Molly, regarding the papers with +much interest. She had never before seen a +manuscript.</p> + +<p>“If you knew what an heretical document that +was, you would not make such rash statements,” +said the professor.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure it’s a learned treatise on some scientific +subject,” laughed Molly, who had entirely regained +her composure now, and felt not the least +bit afraid of this learned man, with the kind, +brown eyes. He seemed quite old to her.</p> + +<p>“If I tell you what it is, will you promise to +keep it a secret?”</p> + +<p>“I promise,” she cried eagerly.</p> + +<p>“It’s the libretto of a light opera,” he said +solemnly, enjoying her amazement.</p> + +<p>“Did you write it?” she asked breathlessly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Not the music, but the words and the lyrics. +Now, I’ve told you my only secret,” he said. “You +must never give me away, or the bottom would +fall out of the chair of English literature at Wellington +College.”</p> + +<p>“I shall never, never tell,” exclaimed Molly; +“and thank you ever so much for your kindness +to-night.”</p> + +<p>They clasped hands and the professor opened +the door for her and stood back to let her pass.</p> + +<p>Then he followed her down the passage to another +door, which he also opened, and in the dim +light she still noticed that quizzical look in his +eyes, which made her wonder whether he was +laughing at her in particular, or at things in +general.</p> + +<p>“Can you find your way to Queen’s Cottage?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “It’s the last +house on the left of the campus.”</p> + +<p>The next moment she found herself running +along the deserted Quadrangle walk. Under the +archway she flew, and straight across the campus—home.</p> + +<p>It was not yet seven o’clock, and the Queen’s +Cottage girls were still at supper. A number of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +students had arrived during the afternoon and +the table was full. There were several freshmen; +Molly identified them by their silence and +looks of unaccustomedness, and some older girls, +who were chattering together like magpies.</p> + +<p>“Where have you been?” demanded Nance +Oldham, who had saved a seat for her roommate +next to her own.</p> + +<p>All conversation ceased, and every eye in the +room was turned on blushing Molly.</p> + +<p>“I—I’ve been locked up,” she answered faintly.</p> + +<p>“Locked up?” repeated several voices at once. +“Where?”</p> + +<p>“In the Cloisters. I didn’t realize it was six +o’clock, and some one locked the door.”</p> + +<p>Molly had been prepared for a good deal of +amusement at her expense, and she felt very +grateful when, instead of hoots of derision, a +nice junior named Sallie Marks, with an interesting +face and good dark eyes, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Why, you poor little freshie! What a mediæval +adventure for your first day. And how did +you finally get out?”</p> + +<p>“One of the professors heard me call and let +me out.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Which one?” demanded several voices at +once.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know his name,” replied Molly guardedly, +remembering that she had a secret to keep.</p> + +<p>“What did he look like?” demanded Frances +Andrews, who had been unusually silent for her +until now.</p> + +<p>“He had brown eyes and a smooth face and +reddish hair, and he was middle aged and quite +nice,” said Molly glibly.</p> + +<p>“What, you don’t mean to say it was Epiménides +Antinous Green?”</p> + +<p>“Who?” demanded Molly.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, don’t let them guy you,” said +Sallie Marks. “It was evidently Professor Edwin +Green who let you in. He is professor of +English literature, and I’ll tell you for your enlightenment +that he was nicknamed in a song +‘Epiménides’ after a Greek philosopher, who +went to sleep when he was a boy and woke up +middle-aged and very wise, and ‘Antinous’ after +a very handsome Greek youth. Don’t you think +him good-looking?”</p> + +<p>“Rather, for an older person,” said Molly +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“He’s not thirty yet, my child,” said Frances<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +Andrews. “At least, so they say, and he’s so +clever that two other colleges are after him.”</p> + +<p>“And he’s written two books,” went on Sally. +“Haven’t you heard of them—‘Philosophical Essays’ +and ‘Lyric Poetry.’”</p> + +<p>Molly was obliged to confess her ignorance +regarding Professor Edwin Green’s outbursts +into literature, but she indulged in an inward +mental smile, remembering the lyrics in the comic +opera libretto.</p> + +<p>“He’s been to Harvard and Oxford, and studied +in France. He’s a perfect infant prodigy,” +went on another girl.</p> + +<p>“It’s a ripping thing for the ‘Squib,’” Molly +heard another girl whisper to her neighbor.</p> + +<p>She knew she would be the subject of an everlasting +joke, but she hoped to live it down by +learning immediately everything there was to +know about Wellington, and becoming so wise +that nobody would ever accuse her again of being +a green freshman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Maynard, the matron, came in to see if +she was all right. She was a motherly little +woman, with a gentle manner, and Molly felt a +leaning toward her at once.</p> + +<p>“I hope you’ll feel comfortable in your new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +quarters,” said Mrs. Maynard. “You’ll have +plenty of sunshine and a good deal more space +when you get your trunks unpacked, although +the things inside a trunk do sometimes look bigger +than the trunk.”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled. There was not much in her +trunk to take up space, most certainly. She +had nicknamed herself when she packed it “Molly +Few Clothes,” and she was beginning to wonder +if even those few would pass muster in that +crowd of well-dressed girls.</p> + +<p>“Oh, have the trunks really come, Miss Oldham?” +she asked her roommate.</p> + +<p>“Yes, just before supper. I’ve started unpacking +mine.”</p> + +<p>“Thank goodness. I’ve got an old ham and a +hickory nut cake and some beaten biscuits and +pickles and blackberry jam in mine, and I can +hardly wait to see if anything has broken loose +on my clothes, such as they are.”</p> + +<p>Nance Oldham opened her eyes wide.</p> + +<p>“I’ve always heard that Southern people were +pretty strong on food,” she said, “and this proves +it.”</p> + +<p>“Wait until you try the hickory nut cake, and +you won’t be so scornful,” answered Molly, somehow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +not liking this accusation regarding the appetites +of her people.</p> + +<p>“Did I hear the words ‘hickory nut cake’ +spoken?” demanded Frances Andrews, who apparently +talked to no one at the table except +freshmen.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I brought some. Come up and try it +to-night,” said Molly hospitably.</p> + +<p>“That would be very jolly, but I can’t to-night, +thanks,” said Frances, flushing.</p> + +<p>And then Molly and Nance noticed that the +other sophomores and juniors at the table were +all perfectly silent and looking at her curiously.</p> + +<p>“I hope you’ll all come,” she added lamely, +wondering if they were accusing her of inhospitality.</p> + +<p>“Not to-night, my child,” said Sally Marks, +rising from the table. “Thank you, very much.”</p> + +<p>As the two freshmen climbed the stairs to +their room a little later, they passed by an open +door on the landing.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” called the voice of Sally. “I was +waiting for you to pass. This is my home. How +do you like it?”</p> + +<p>“Very much,” answered the two girls, really +not seeing anything particularly remarkable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +about the apartment, except perhaps the sign on +the door which read “Pax Vobiscum,” and would +seem to indicate that the owner of the room had +a Christian spirit.</p> + +<p>“Your name is ‘Molly Brown,’ and you come +from Kentucky, isn’t that so?” asked Sally +Marks, taking Molly’s chin in her hand and looking +into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“And yours?” went on the inquisitive Sally, +turning to Molly’s roommate.</p> + +<p>“Is Nance Oldham, and I come from Vermont,” +finished Nance promptly.</p> + +<p>“You’re both dears. And I am ever so glad +you are in Queens. You won’t think I’m patronizing +if I give you a little advice, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” said the two girls.</p> + +<p>“You know Wellington’s full of nice girls. I +don’t think there is a small college in this country +that has such a fine showing for class and +brains. But among three hundred there are +bound to be some black sheep, and new girls +should always be careful with whom they take +up.”</p> + +<p>“But how can we tell?” asked Nance.</p> + +<p>“Oh, there are ways. Suppose, for instance, +you should meet a girl who was good-looking,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +clever, rich, with lots of pretty clothes, and all +that, and she seemed to have no friends. What +would you think?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I might think there was something the +matter with her, unless she was too shy to make +friends.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose she wasn’t?” persisted Sally.</p> + +<p>“Then, there would surely be something the +matter,” said Nance.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, children, if you should meet a +girl like that in college, don’t get too intimate +with her.”</p> + +<p>Sally Marks led them up to their own room, +just to see how they were fixed, she said.</p> + +<p>Later, when the two girls had crawled wearily +into bed, after finishing the unpacking, Molly +called out sleepily:</p> + +<p>“Nance”—she had forgotten already to say +Miss Oldham—“do you suppose that nice junior +could have meant Miss Andrews?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t a doubt of it,” said Nance.</p> + +<p>“Just the same, I’m sorry for the poor thing,” +continued Molly. “I’m sorry for anybody who’s +walking under a cloud, and I don’t think it would +do any harm to be nice to her.”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t do her any harm,” said Nance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Epiménides Antinous Green,” whispered +Molly to herself, as she snuggled under the covers. +The name seemed to stick in her memory +like a rhyme. “Funny I didn’t notice how young +and handsome he was. I only noticed that he +had good manners, if he did treat me like a +child.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br /> + +<small>A BUSY DAY.</small></h2> + + +<p>The next day was always a chaotic one in +Molly’s memory—a jumble of new faces and +strange events. At breakfast she made the acquaintance +of the freshmen who were staying +at Queen’s Cottage—four in all. One of these +was Julia Kean, “a nice girl in neutral tints,” +as Molly wrote home to her sister, “with gray +eyes and brown hair and a sense of humor.” She +came to be known as “Judy,” and formed an intimate +friendship with Molly and Nance, which +lasted throughout the four years of their college +course.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel after your night’s rest?” she +called across the table to Molly in the most +friendly manner, just as if they had known each +other always. “You look like the ‘Lady of the +Sea’ in that blue linen that just matches your +eyes.” She began looking Molly over with a +kind of critical admiration, narrowing her eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +as an artist does when he’s at work on a picture. +“I’d like to make a poster of you in blue-and-white +chalk. I’d put you on a yellow, sandy +beach, against a bright blue sky, in a high wind, +with your dress and hair blowing——” And with +eyes still narrowed, she traced an imaginary picture +with one hand and shaped her ideas with the +other.</p> + +<p>Molly laughed.</p> + +<p>“You must be an artist,” she said, “with such +notions about posing.”</p> + +<p>“A would-be one, that’s all. ‘Not yet, but +soon,’ is my motto.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a bad motto,” here put in Nance Oldham. +“It’s like the Spanish saying of ‘<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Hasta +mañana</i>.’ You are very apt to put off doing +things until next day.”</p> + +<p>Julia Kean looked at her reproachfully.</p> + +<p>“You’ve read my character in two words,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you introduce me to your friends, +Judy?” asked a handsome girl next to her, who +had quantities of light-brown hair piled on top +of her head.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t been introduced myself,” replied +Judy; “but I never could see why people should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +stop for introductions at teas and times like this. +We all know we’re all right, or else we wouldn’t +be here.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Frances Andrews, who had +just come in, “why all this formality, when we +are to be a family party for the next eight +months? Why not become friends at once, without +any preliminaries?”</p> + +<p>Sally Marks, who had given them the vague +yet meaningful warning the night before, appeared +to be absorbed in her coffee cup, and +the other two sophomores at the table were engaged +in a whispered conversation.</p> + +<p>“Nevertheless, I will perform the introductions,” +announced Judy Kean. “This is Miss +Margaret Wakefield, of Washington, D. C.; Miss +Edith Coles, of Rhode Island; Miss Jessie Lynch, +of Wisconsin, and Miss Mabel Hinton, of Illinois. +As for me, my name is Julia Kean, and I +come from—nowhere in particular.”</p> + +<p>“You must have had a birthplace,” insisted +that accurate young person, Nance Oldham.</p> + +<p>“If you could call a ship a birthplace, I did,” +replied Judy. “I was born in mid-ocean on a +stormy night. Hence my stormy, restless nature.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But how did it happen?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was all simple enough. Papa and +mamma were on their way back from Japan, +and I arrived a bit prematurely on board ship. +I began life traveling, and I’ve been traveling +ever since.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to stay put here; awhile, at least,” +said Sally Marks.</p> + +<p>“I hope so. I need to gather a little moss +before I become an habitual tramp.”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t we better be chasing along?” said +Frances Andrews. “It’s almost time for chapel.”</p> + +<p>No one answered and Molly began to wonder +how long this strange girl would endure the part +of a monologist at college. For that was what +her attempts at conversation seemed to amount +to. She admired Frances’s pluck, at any rate. +Whatever she had done to offend, it was courageous +of her to come back and face the music.</p> + +<p>Chapel was an impressive sight to the new +girls. The entire body of students was there, +and the faculty, including Professor Edwin +Green, who gave each girl the impression he was +looking at her when he was really only gazing +into the imaginary bull’s-eye of an imaginary +camera, and saw not one of them. Molly decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +his comeliness was more charm than looks. “The +unknown charm,” she wrote her sister. “His +ears are a little pointed at the top, and he has +brown eyes like a collie dog. But it was nice of +him to have given me his soup,” she added irrelevantly, +“and I shall always appreciate it.”</p> + +<p>After chapel, when Molly was following in the +trail of her new friends, feeling a bit strange +and unaccustomed, some one plucked her by the +sleeve. It was Mary Stewart, the nice senior +with the plain, but fine face.</p> + +<p>“I’ll expect you this evening after supper,” she +said. “I’m having a little party. There will be +music, too. I thought perhaps you might like +to bring a friend along. It’s rather lonesome, +breaking into a new crowd by one’s self.”</p> + +<p>It never occurred to Molly that she was being +paid undue honors. For a freshman, who had +arrived only the afternoon before, without a +friend in college, to be asked to a small intimate +party by the most prominent girl in the senior +class, was really quite remarkable, so Nance Oldham +thought; and she was pleased to be the one +Molly chose to take along.</p> + +<p>The two girls had had a busy, exciting day. +They had not been placed in the same divisions,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +B and O being so widely separated in the alphabet, +and were now meeting again for the first +time since lunch. Molly had stretched her length +on her couch and kicked off her pumps, described +later by Judy Kean as being a yard long and an +inch broad.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly1pl2" id="molly1pl2"></a> +<img src="images/molly1pl2.jpg" width="400" height="617" alt="“I wish you would tell me your receipt for making friends, +Molly,” exclaimed Nance.—Page 51." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">“I wish you would tell me your receipt for making friends, +Molly,” exclaimed Nance.—<i>Page 51.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>“I wish you would tell me your receipt for +making friends, Molly,” exclaimed Nance. “You +are really a perfect wonder. Don’t you find it +troublesome to be so nice to so many people?”</p> + +<p>“I’d find it lots harder not to be nice,” answered +Molly. “Besides, it’s a rule that works +both ways. The nicer you are to people, the nicer +they are to you.”</p> + +<p>“But don’t you think lots of people aren’t +worth the effort and if you treat them like sisters, +they are apt to take advantage of it and +bore you afterwards?”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled.</p> + +<p>“I’ve never been troubled that way,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t tell me,” cried Nance, warming +to the argument, “that that universally cordial +manner of yours doesn’t bring a lot of rag-tags +around to monopolize you. If it hasn’t before, it +will now. You’ll see.”</p> + +<p>“You make me feel like the leader of Coxey’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +Army,” laughed Molly; “because, you see, I’m a +kind of a rag-tag myself.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes filled with tears. She was thinking +of her meagre wardrobe. Nance was silent. She +was slow of speech, but when she once began, +she always said more than she intended simply +to prove her point; and now she was afraid she +had hurt Molly’s feelings. She was provoked +with herself for her carelessness, and when she +was on bad terms with herself she appeared to be +on bad terms with everybody else. Of course, in +her heart of hearts, she had been thinking of +Frances Andrews, whom she felt certain Molly +would never snub sufficiently to keep her at a +distance.</p> + +<p>The two girls went about their dressing without +saying another word. Nance was coiling her +smooth brown braids around her head, while +Molly was looking sorrowfully at her only two +available dresses for that evening’s party. One +was a blue muslin of a heavenly color but considerably +darned, and the other was a marquisette, +also the worse for wear. Suddenly Nance +gave a reckless toss of her hair brush in one +direction and her comb in another, and rushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +over to Molly, who was gazing absently into the +closet.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Molly,” she cried impetuously, seizing her +friend’s hand, “I’m a brute. Will you forgive +me? I’m afraid I hurt your feelings. It’s just +my unfortunate way of getting excited and saying +too much. I never met any one I admired as +much as you in such a short time. I wish I did +know how to be charming to everybody, like you. +It’s been ground into me since I was a child not +to make friends with people unless it was to my +advantage, and I found out they were entirely +worthy. And it’s a slow process, I can tell you. +You are the very first chance acquaintance I ever +made in my life, and I like you better than any +girl I ever met. So there, will you say you have +forgiven me?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I will,” exclaimed Molly, flushing +with pleasure. “There is nothing to forgive. I +know I’m too indiscriminate about making +friends. Mother often complained because I +would bring such queer children out to dinner +when I was a child. Indeed, I wasn’t hurt a bit. +It was the word ‘rag-tag,’ that seemed to be such +an excellent description of the clothes I must +wear this winter, unless some should drop down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +from heaven, like manna in the desert for the +Children of Israel.”</p> + +<p>Without a word, Nance pulled a box out from +under her couch and lifted the lid. It disclosed +a little hand sewing machine.</p> + +<p>“Can you sew?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“After a fashion.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can. It’s pastime with me. I’d rather +make clothes than do lots of other things. Now, +suppose we set to work and make some dresses. +How would you like a blue serge, with turn-over +collar and cuffs, like that one Miss Marks is +wearing, that fastens down the side with black +satin buttons?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nance, I couldn’t let you do all that for +me,” protested Molly. “Besides, I haven’t the +material or anything.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you earn some money, Molly?” +suggested Nance. “There are lots of different +ways. Mrs. Murphy, the housekeeper, was telling +me about them. One of the girls here last +year actually blacked boots—but, of course, you +wouldn’t do anything so menial as that.”</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t I?” interrupted Molly. “Just watch +me. That’s a splendid idea, Nance. It’s a fine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +honorable labor, as Colonel Robert Wakefield +said, when his wife had to take in boarders.”</p> + +<p>Molly slipped on the blue muslin.</p> + +<p>“It really doesn’t make any difference what +she wears,” thought Nance, looking at her friend +with covert admiration. “She’d be a star in a +crazy quilt.”</p> + +<p>The two girls hurried down to supper. Molly +was thoughtful all through that conversational +meal. Her mind was busy with a scheme by +which she intended to remove that unceasing +pressure for funds which bade fair to be an ever-increasing +bugbear to her.</p> + +<p>No. 16 on the Quadrangle turned out to be a +very luxurious and comfortable suite of rooms, +consisting of quite a large parlor, a little den +or study and a bedroom. Mary Stewart met +them at the door in such a plain dress that at +first Molly was deceived into thinking it was +just an ordinary frock until she noticed the lines. +And in a few moments Nance took occasion to +inform her that simplicity was one of the most +expensive things in the world, which few people +could afford, and furthermore that Mary Stewart’s +gray, cottony-looking dress was a dream of +beauty and must have come from Paris.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were six or seven other girls in the +crowd, including that little bird-like, bright-eyed +creature they called “Jennie Wren,” whose real +name was Jane Wickham. The only other girl +they knew was Judith Blount, who had been so +snubby to Molly the day before about the luggage.</p> + +<p>All these girls were musical, as the freshmen +were soon to learn, and belonged to the College +Glee Club.</p> + +<p>“What a pretty room!” exclaimed Molly to +her hostess, after she had been properly introduced +and enthroned in a big tapestry chair, in +which she unconsciously made a most delightful +and colorful picture.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you like it. I have some trouble +keeping it from getting cluttered up with ‘truck,’ +as we call it. It’s about like Hercules trying to +clean the Augean Stables, I think, but I try and +use the den for an overflow, and only put the +things I’m really fond of in here. That helps +some.”</p> + +<p>“They are certainly lovely,” said the young +freshman, looking wistfully at the head of “The +Unknown Woman,” between two brass candlesticks +on the mantel shelf. On the bookshelves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +stood “The Winged Victory,” and hanging over +the shelves on the opposite side of the room was +an immense photograph of Botticelli’s “Primavera.” +The only other pictures were two Japanese +prints and the only other furniture was +a baby grand piano and some chairs. It was +really a delightfully empty and beautiful place, +and Molly felt suddenly strangely crude and ignorant +when she recalled the things she had intended +to do to her part of the room at Queen’s +Cottage toward beautifying it. She was engaged +in mentally clearing them all out, when a voice +at her elbow said:</p> + +<p>“Are you thinking of taking the vows, Miss +Brown?”</p> + +<p>It was Judith Blount, who had drawn up a +chair beside her’s. There was something very +patronizing and superior in Miss Blount’s manner, +but Molly was determined to ignore it, and +smiled sweetly into the black eyes of the haughty +sophomore.</p> + +<p>“Taking what vows?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Why, I understood you had become a cloistered +nun.”</p> + +<p>Molly flushed. So the story was out. It didn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +take long for news to travel through a girl’s +college.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t cloistered very long,” she answered. +“And the only vow I took was never to be caught +there again after six o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“How did you like Epiménides? I hear he’s +made a great joke of it,” she continued, without +waiting for Molly to answer. “He’s rather humorous, +you know. Even in his most serious +work, it will come out.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think there was much to joke about,” +put in Molly, feeling a little indignant. “I was +awfully forlorn and miserable.”</p> + +<p>“The real joke was that he called you ‘little +Miss Smith,’” said Judith.</p> + +<p>Molly’s moods reflected themselves in her eyes +just as the passing clouds are mirrored in two +blue pools of water. A shadow passed over her +face now and her eyes grew darker, but she kept +very quiet, which was her way when her feelings +were hurt. Then Mary Stewart began to +play on the piano, and Molly forgot all about the +sharp-tongued sophomore, who, she strongly suspected, +was trying to be disagreeable, but for +what reason for the life of her Molly could not +see.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>Never before had she heard any really good +playing on the piano, and it seemed to her now +that the music actually flowed from Mary’s +long, strong fingers, in a melodious and liquid +stream. Other music followed. Judith sang a +gypsy song, in a rich contralto voice, that Molly +thought was a little coarse. Jennie Wren, who +could sing exactly like a child, gave a solo in the +highest little piping soprano. Two girls played +on mandolins, and Mary Stewart, who appeared +to do most things, accompanied them on a guitar. +Then came supper, which was rather plain, Molly +thought, and consisted simply of tea and cookies. +“I suppose it’s artistic not to have much to eat,” +her thoughts continued, but she made up her +mind to invite Mary Stewart to supper before +the old ham and the hickory nut cake were consumed +by hungry freshmen.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me that with such a voice as yours +you must sing, Miss Brown,” here broke in Mary +Stewart. “Will you please oblige the company?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t like to sing after all this fine +music,” protested Molly. “Besides, I don’t know +anything but darky songs.”</p> + +<p>“The very girl we want for our Hallowe’en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +Vaudeville,” cried Jennie Wren. “What do you +use, a guitar or a piano?”</p> + +<p>“Either, a little,” answered Molly, blushing +crimson; “but I haven’t any more voice than a +rabbit.”</p> + +<p>“Fire away,” cried Jennie Wren, thrusting a +guitar into her hands.</p> + +<p>Molly was actually trembling with fright when +she found herself the center of interest in this +musical company.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly1pl3" id="molly1pl3"></a> +<img src="images/molly1pl3.jpg" width="400" height="614" alt="“I’m scared to death,” she announced. Then she struck a +chord and began.—Page 60." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">“I’m scared to death,” she announced. Then she struck a +chord and began.—<i>Page 60.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>“I’m scared to death,” she announced, as she +faintly tuned the guitar. Then she struck a +chord and began:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“Ma baby loves shortnin’,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ma baby loves shortnin’ bread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ma baby loves shortnin’,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mammy’s gwine make him some shortnin’ +bread.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Before she had finished, everybody in the room +had joined in. Then she sang:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“Ole Uncle Rat has come to town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To buy his niece a weddin’ gown,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">OO-hoo!”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>“A quarter to ten,” announced some one, and +the next moment they had all said good-night +and were running as fast as their feet could carry +them across the campus, “scuttling in every direction +like a lot of rats,” as Judith remarked.</p> + +<p>“Lights out at ten o’clock,” whispered Nance +breathlessly, as they crept into their room and +undressed in the dark. It was very exciting. +They felt like a pair of happy criminals who had +just escaped the iron grasp of the law.</p> + +<p>When Molly Brown dropped into a deep and +restful sleep that night, she never dreamed that +she had already become a noted person in college, +though how it happened, it would be impossible +to say. It might have been the Cloister +story, but, nevertheless, Molly—overgrown child +that she may have seemed to Professor Green—had +a personality that attracted attention wherever +she was.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER V.<br /> + +<small>THE KENTUCKY SPREAD.</small></h2> + + +<p>“Molly, you look a little worried,” observed +Nance Oldham, two days before the famous +spread was to take place, it having been set for +Friday evening.</p> + +<p>Molly was seated on her bed, in the midst of +a conglomerate mass of books and clothes, chewing +the end of a pencil while she knitted her +brows over a list of names.</p> + +<p>“Not exactly worried,” she replied. “But, you +know, Nance, giving a party is exactly like some +kind of strong stimulant with me. It goes to +my head, and I seem to get intoxicated on invitations. +Once I get started to inviting, I can’t +seem to stop.”</p> + +<p>“Molly Brown,” put in Nance severely, “I believe +you’ve just about invited the whole of Wellington +College to come here Friday night. And +because you are already such a famous person, +everybody has accepted.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I think I can about remember how many I +asked,” she replied penitently. “There are all +the girls in the house, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Frances Andrews?”</p> + +<p>Molly nodded.</p> + +<p>“And all the girls who were at Miss Stewart’s +the other night.”</p> + +<p>“What, even that girl who makes catty +speeches. That black-eyed Blount person?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, even so,” continued Molly sadly. “I +really hadn’t intended to ask her, Nance, but I do +love to heap coals of fire on people’s heads, and +besides, I just told you, when I get started, I +can’t seem to stop. When I was younger, I’ve +been known to bring home as many as six strange +little girls to dinner at once.”</p> + +<p>“The next time you give a party,” put in +Nance, “we’d better make out the list beforehand, +and then you must give me your word of +honor not to add one name to it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try to,” replied Molly with contrition, +“but it’s awfully hard to take the pledge when +it comes to asking people to meals, even spreads.”</p> + +<p>The two girls examined the list together, and +Molly racked her brains to try and remember +any left-outs, as she called them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’m certain that’s all,” she said at last. “That +makes twenty, doesn’t it? Oh, Nance, I tremble +for the old ham and the hickory nut cake. Do +you think they’ll go round? Aunty, she’s my +godmother, is sending me another box of beaten +biscuits. She has promised to keep me supplied. +You know, I have never eaten cold light bread +in my life at breakfast, and I’d just as soon choke +down cold potatoes as the soggy bread they give +us here. But beaten biscuit and ham and home-made +pickles won’t be enough, even with hickory +nut cake,” she continued doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I have a chafing dish. We can make fudge; +then there’s tea, you know. We can borrow cups +and saucers from the others. But we’ll have to +do something else for their amusement besides +feed them. Have you thought of anything?”</p> + +<p>“Lillie and Millie,” these were two sophomores +at Queen’s, “have a stunt they have promised +to give. It’s to be a surprise. And Jennie Wren +has promised to bring her guitar and oblige us +with a few selections, but, oh, Nance, except for +the eatin’, I’m afraid it won’t be near such a +fine party as Mary Stewart’s was.”</p> + +<p>“Eatin’s the main thing, child. Don’t let that +worry you,” replied Nance consolingly. “I think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +I have an idea of something which would interest +the company, but I’m not going to tell even +you what it is.”</p> + +<p>Nance had a provoking way of keeping choice +secrets and then springing them when she was +entirely ready, and wild horses could not drag +them out of her before that propitious moment.</p> + +<p>On Friday evening the girls began to arrive +early, for, as has been said, Molly was already +an object of interest at Wellington College, and +the fame of her beaten biscuits and old ham had +spread abroad. Some of the guests, like Mary +Stewart, came because they were greatly attracted +toward the young freshman; and others, +like Judith Blount, felt only an amused curiosity +in accepting the invitation. As a general +thing, Judith was a very exclusive person, but +she felt she could safely show her face where +Mary Stewart was.</p> + +<p>“This looks pretty fine to me,” observed that +nice, unaffected young woman herself, shaking +hands with Molly and Nance.</p> + +<p>“It’s good of you to say so,” replied Molly. +“Your premises would make two of our’s, I’m +thinking.”</p> + +<p>“But, look at your grand buffet. How clever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +of you! One of you two children must have a +genius for arrangement.”</p> + +<p>The study tables had been placed at one end +of the room close together, their crudities covered +with a white cloth borrowed from Mrs. +Murphy, and on these were piled the viands in a +manner to give the illusion of great profusion +and plenty.</p> + +<p>“It’s Molly,” laughed Nance; “she’s a natural +entertainer.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” put in Molly. “I come of a family +of cooks.”</p> + +<p>“And did your cook relatives marry butlers?” +asked Judith.</p> + +<p>Molly stifled a laugh. Somehow Judith +couldn’t say things like other girls. There was +always a tinge of spite in her speeches.</p> + +<p>“Where I come from,” she said gravely, “the +cooks and butlers are colored people, and the old +ones are almost like relatives, they are so loyal +and devoted. But there are not many of those +left now.”</p> + +<p>The room was gradually filling, and presently +every guest had arrived, except Frances Andrews.</p> + +<p>“We won’t wait for her,” said Molly to Lillie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +and Millie, the two inseparable sophomores, who +now quietly slipped out. Presently, Nance, major +domo for the evening, shoved all the guests +back onto the divans and into the corners until +a circle was formed in the centre of the room. +She then hung a placard on the knob of the door +which read:</p> + +<p class="placard"> +MAHOMET, THE COCK OF THE EAST,<br /> + +<big><i>vs.</i></big><br /> + +CHANTECLER, THE COCK OF THE WEST. +</p> + +<p>There was a sound of giggling and scuffling, +the door opened and two enormous, man-sized +cocks entered the room. Both fowls had white +bodies made by putting the feet through the +sleeves of a nightgown, which was drawn up +around the neck and over the arms, the fullness +gathered into the back and tied into a rakish +tail. A Persian kimono was draped over Mahomet +to represent wings and a tightly fitting +white cap with a point over the forehead covered +his head. His face was powdered to a +ghastly pallor with talcum and his mouth had +been painted with red finger-nail salve into a +cruel red slash across his countenance. Chantecler<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +was of a more engaging countenance. A +small red felt bedroom slipper formed his comb +and a red silk handkerchief covered his back +hair. The two cocks crowed and flapped their +wings and the fight began, amid much laughter +and cheering. Twice Chantecler was almost +spurred to death, but it was Mahomet’s lot to +die that evening, and presently he expired with +a terrible groan, while the Cock of the West +placed his foot on Mahomet’s chest and crowed +a mighty crow, for the West had conquered the +East.</p> + +<p>That was really the great stunt of the evening, +and it occupied a good deal of time. Molly began +carving the ham, which she had refused to +do earlier, because a ham, properly served, +should appear first in all its splendid shapely +wholeness before being sliced into nothingness. +Therefore she now proceeded to cut off thin portions, +which crumbled into bits under the edge of +the carving knife borrowed from Mrs. Murphy. +But the young hostess composedly heaped it upon +the plates with pickle and biscuit, and it was +eaten so quickly that she had scarcely finished +the last serving before the plates were back +again for a second allowance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>During the hot fudge and hickory nut cake +course, the door opened and a Scotch laddie, +kilted and belted in the most approved manner +entered the room. His knees were bare, he +wore a little Scotch cap, a black velvet jacket +and a plaidie thrown over one shoulder. But +the most perfect part of his get-up was his miniature +bagpipe, which he blew on vigorously, and +presently he paused and sang a Scotch song.</p> + +<p>“Nance!” cried several of the Queen’s Cottage +girls, for it was difficult to recognize the quiet +young girl from Vermont in this rakish disguise.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the uproar there was a loud +knock on the door.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” called Molly, a little frightened, +thinking, perhaps, the kindly matron had for +once rebelled at the noise they were making.</p> + +<p>Slowly the door opened and an old hag stepped +into the room. She was really a terrible object, +and some of the girls shrieked and fell back as +she advanced toward the jolly circle. Her nose +was of enormous length, and almost rested on +her chin, like a staff, like the nose of “The Last +Leaf on the Tree.” Also, she had a crooked +back and leaned heavily on a stick. On her head +was a high pointed witch’s cap. She wore black<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +goggles, and had only two front teeth. The +witch produced a pack of cards which she dexterously +shuffled with her black gloved hands. +Then she sat down on the floor, beckoning to the +girls to come nearer.</p> + +<p>“Half-a-minute fortune for each one,” she observed +in a muffled, disguised voice, but it was a +very fulsome minute, as Judy remarked afterward, +for what little she said was strictly to the +point.</p> + +<p>To Judith Blount she said:</p> + +<p>“English literature is your weak point. Look +out for danger ahead.”</p> + +<p>This seemed simple enough advice, but Judith +flushed darkly, and several of the girls exchanged +glances. Molly, for some reason, recalled +what Judith had said about Professor Edwin +Green.</p> + +<p>Many of the other girls came in for knocks, +but they were very skillful ones, deftly hidden under +the guise of advice. To Jennie Wren the +witch said:</p> + +<p>“Be careful of your friends. Don’t ever cultivate +unprofitable people.”</p> + +<p>To Nance Oldham she said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You will always be very popular—if you stick +to popular people.”</p> + +<p>It was all soon over. Molly’s fortune had been +left to the last. The strange witch had gone so +quickly from one girl to another that they had +scarcely time to take a breath between each fortune.</p> + +<p>“As for you,” she said at last, turning to +Molly, “I can only say that ‘kind hearts are more +than coronets, and simple faith than Norman +blood,’ and by the end of your freshman year +you will be the most popular girl in college.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” cried Molly, suddenly coming +out of her dream.</p> + +<p>“Yes, who are you?” cried Judith, breaking +through the circle and seizing the witch by the +arm.</p> + +<p>With a swift movement the witch pushed her +back and she fell in a heap on some girls who +were still sitting on the floor.</p> + +<p>“I will know who you are,” cried Jennie Wren, +with a determined note in her high voice, as she +grasped the witch by the arm, and it did look +for a moment as if the Kentucky spread were +going to end in a free-for-all fight, when suddenly, +in the midst of the scramble and cries,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +came three raps on the door, and the voice of the +matron called:</p> + +<p>“Young ladies, ten o’clock. Lights out!”</p> + +<p>The girls always declared that it was the witch +who had got near the door and pushed the button +which put out every light in the room. At +any rate, the place was in total darkness for half +a minute, and when Molly switched the lights on +again for the girls to find their wraps the witch +had disappeared.</p> + +<p>In another instant the guests had vanished +into thin air and across the moonlit campus +ghostly figures could be seen flitting like shadows +over the turf toward the dormitories, for +there was no time to lose. At a quarter past ten +the gates into the Quadrangle would be securely +locked.</p> + +<p>Nance lit a flat, thick candle, known in the +village as “burglar’s terror,” and in this flickering +dim light the two girls undressed hastily.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Molly exclaimed in a whisper:</p> + +<p>“Nance, I believe it was Frances Andrews +who dressed up as that witch, and I’m going to +find out, rules or no rules.”</p> + +<p>She slipped on her kimono and crept into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +hall. The house was very still, but she tapped +softly on Frances’ door. There was no answer, +and opening the door she tiptoed into the room. +A long ray of moonlight, filtering in through the +muslin curtains, made the room quite light. +There was a smell of lavender salts in the air, +and Mollie could plainly see Frances in her bed. +A white handkerchief was tied around her head, +as if she had a headache, but she seemed to be +asleep.</p> + +<p>“Frances,” called Molly softly.</p> + +<p>Frances gave a stifled sob that was half a +groan and turned over on her side.</p> + +<p>“Frances,” called Molly again.</p> + +<p>Frances opened her eyes and sat up.</p> + +<p>“Is anything the matter?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Molly went up to the bedside. Even in the +moonlight she could see that Frances’ eyes were +swollen with crying.</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you were ill,” whispered Molly. +“Why didn’t you come to the spread?”</p> + +<p>“I had a bad headache. It’s better now. +Good night.” Molly crept off to her room.</p> + +<p>Was it Frances, after all, who had broken up +her party?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly was inclined to think it was not, and +yet——</p> + +<p>“At any rate, we’ll give her the benefit of the +doubt, Nance,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>But there were no doubts in Nance’s mind.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br /> + +<small>KNOTTY PROBLEMS.</small></h2> + + +<p>“I tell you things do hum in this college!” exclaimed +Judy Kean, closing a book she had been +reading and tossing it onto the couch with a +sigh of deep content.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how you can tell anything about +it, Judy,” said Nance severely. “You’ve been so +absorbed in ‘The Broad Highway’ every spare +moment you’ve had for the last two days that +you might as well have been in Kalamazoo as in +college.”</p> + +<p>“Nance, you do surely tell the truth, the whole +truth and nothing but the truth,” said Judy good +naturedly. “I know I have the novel habit badly. +It’s because I had no restraint put upon me in +my youth, and if I get a really good book like +this one, I just let duty slide.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you put your talents to some use +and write, then?” demanded Nance, who enjoyed +preaching to her friends.</p> + +<p>“Art is more to my taste,” answered Judy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, art is long and time is fleeting. Why +don’t you get busy and do something?” exclaimed +the other vehemently. “What do you +intend to be?”</p> + +<p>Judy had a trick of raising her eyebrows and +frowning at the same time, which gave her a +serio-comic expression and invested her most +earnest speeches with a touch of humor. But +she did not reply to Nance’s question, having +spent most of her life indulging her very excellent +taste without much thought for the future.</p> + +<p>“What do you intend to be?” she asked presently +of Nance, who had her whole future +mapped out in blocks: four years at college, two +years studying languages in Europe, four years as +teacher in a good school, then as principal, perhaps, +and next as owner of a school of her own.</p> + +<p>“Why, I expect to teach languages,” said +Nance without a moment’s hesitation.</p> + +<p>“Of course, a teacher. I might have known!” +cried Judy. “You’ve commenced already on me—your +earliest pupil!</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘Teacher, teacher, why am I so happy, happy, +happy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my Sunday school?’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>She broke off with her song suddenly and +seized Nance’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Please don’t scold me, Nance, dear. I know +life isn’t all play, and that college is a serious +business if one expects to take the whole four +years’ course. I’ve already had a warning. It +came this morning. It’s because I’ve been cutting +classes. And I have been entirely miserable. +That’s the reason I’ve been so immersed in ‘The +Broad Highway.’ I’ve been trying to drown my +sorrows in romance. I know I’m not clever——”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” interrupted the other impatiently. +“You are too clever, you silly child. That’s what +is the matter with you, but you don’t know how +to work. You have no system. What you really +need is a good tutor. You must learn to concentrate——”</p> + +<p>“Concentrate,” laughed Judy. “That’s something +I never could do. As soon as I try my +thoughts go skylarking.”</p> + +<p>“How do you do it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I sit very still and dig my toes into the +soles of my shoes and my finger nails into the +palms of my hands and say over and over the +thing I’m trying to concentrate on.”</p> + +<p>The girls were still laughing joyously when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +Molly came in. Her face wore an expression of +unwonted seriousness, and she was frowning +slightly. Three things had happened that morning +which worried her considerably.</p> + +<p>The first shock came before breakfast when +she had looked in her handkerchief box where +she kept her funds promiscuously mixed up with +handkerchiefs and orris root sachet bags and +found one crumpled dollar bill and not a cent +more. There was a kind of blind spot in Molly’s +brain where money was concerned, little of it as +she had possessed in her life. She never could +remember exactly how much she had on hand, +and change was a meaningless thing to her. And +now it was something of a blow to her to find +that one dollar must bridge over the month’s expenses, +or she must write home for more, a thing +she did not wish to do, remembering the two +acres of apple orchard which had been sunk in +her education.</p> + +<p>“And it’s all gone in silk attire and riotous +living,” she said to herself, for she had bought +herself ten yards of a heavenly sky blue crêpey +material which she and Nance proposed to make +into a grand costume, also she had entertained +numbers of friends at various times to sundaes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +in the village. One of the other of her triple +worries was a note she had received that morning +from Judith Blount, and the third was another +note, about both of which she intended to +ask the advice of her two most intimate friends.</p> + +<p>“What’s bothering you, child?” demanded +Judy, quick to notice any change in her adored +Molly’s face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, several things. These two notes for one.” +She drew two envelopes from her pocket and +opening the first one, began to read aloud:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“‘<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Brown</span>:</p> + +<p>“‘Since you come of a family of cooks and are +expert on the subject, I am going to ask you to +take charge of a little dinner I am giving to-morrow +night in my rooms to my brother and +some friends. I shall expect you to be chief cook, +but not bottle-washer. You’ll have an assistant +for that; but I’d like you to wait on the table, +seeing you are so good at those things. Don’t +bother about cap and apron. I have them.</p> + +<p><span class="rght2">“‘Yours with thanks in advance,</span><br /> +<span class="rght1">“‘Judith Blount.’”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>The note was written on heavy cream-colored +paper with two Greek letters embossed at the top +in dark blue. Judith lived in the Beta Phi House, +which was divided into apartments, and occupied +by eight decidedly well-to-do girls, the richest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +girls in college, as a matter of fact. It was called +“The Millionaire’s Club,” and was known to be +the abode of snobbishness, although Molly, who +had been there once to a tea, had been entirely +unconscious of this spirit.</p> + +<p>Judy and Nance were speechless with indignation +after Molly had finished reading the note.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of that?” she exclaimed, +breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>“It’s a rank insult,” cried Nance.</p> + +<p>“If you were a man, you could challenge her +to a duel,” cried Judy; “but being a girl, you’ll +have to take it out in ignoring her.”</p> + +<p>“It’s written in such a matter-of-fact way,” +continued Molly, “that I can’t believe it’s entirely +unusual. After sober, second thought, I believe +I’ll ask Sallie before I answer it.”</p> + +<p>“Speaking of angels—there is Sallie!” cried +Judy, as that young woman herself hurried past +the door on her way to a class.</p> + +<p>“What is it? Make it quick. I’m late now!” +ejaculated Sallie, popping her head in at the door +with a smile on her face to counteract her abrupt +manner. “Who’s in trouble now?”</p> + +<p>The three freshmen stood silently about her +while she perused Judith’s note.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did you ever hear of such a thing?” burst +out Judy with hot indignation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, lots of times, little one. It’s quite +customary for freshmen to act as waitresses +when girls in the older classes entertain in their +rooms. The freshies like to do it because they +get such good food. I do think this note is +expressed, well—rather unfortunately. It has a +sort of between-the-lines superiority. But Judith +is always like that. You just have to take her as +you find her and ignore her faults. You’d better +accept, Molly, with good grace. You’ll enjoy +the food, too. To-morrow—let me see, that’s +New England boiled dinner night, isn’t it? You’ll +probably have beefsteak and mushrooms and +grape fruit and ice cream and all the delicacies +of the season.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, if you advise it, I’ll accept, like a +lady,” said Molly resignedly.</p> + +<p>“It’s customary,” answered Sallie, smiling +cheerfully and waving her hand as she hurried +down the hall.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s settled,” continued Molly sighing. +Somehow, Judith Blount did get on her +nerves. “Now, the other note is even more serious +in a way. Listen to this.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>Before reading it, she carefully closed the door, +drew the other girls into the far end of the room +and began in a low voice:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“‘<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Brown</span>:</p> + +<p>“‘May I have the pleasure of being your escort +to the sophomore-freshman ball? Let me know +whether you intend to wear one of your cerulean +shades. The carriage will stop for us at eight +o’clock. You might leave the answer at my door +to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="rght3">“‘Yours faithfully,</span><br /> +<span class="rght1">“‘Frances Andrews.’”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>The girls looked at each other in consternation.</p> + +<p>“What’s to be done?”</p> + +<p>“Say you have another engagement,” advised +Judy, who was not averse at times to telling polite +fibs in order to extricate herself from a difficulty. +But Molly was the very soul of truth, and +even small fibs were not in her line.</p> + +<p>“Hasn’t any one else asked you yet?” asked +Nance.</p> + +<p>“No; you see, it’s a week off, and I suppose +they are just beginning to think of partners +now.”</p> + +<p>“All I can say is that if you do go with her +you are done for,” announced Nance solemnly.</p> + +<p>Molly sat down in the Morris chair and wrinkled +her brows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I do wish she hadn’t,” she said.</p> + +<p>“She just regards you as a sort of life preserver,” +exclaimed Judy. “She’s trying to keep +above the surface by holding on to you. If I +were you, I wouldn’t be bothered with her.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I know,” said Molly, “that Frances +Andrews did something last year that put her in +the black books with her class. She’s trying to +live it down, and they are trying to freeze her +out. Nobody has anything to do with her, and +she’s not invited to anything except the big entertainments +like this. I can’t help feeling sorry +for her, and I don’t see how it would do me any +harm to go with her. But I just don’t want to +go, that’s all. I’d rather take a beating than +go.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then you are a chump for considering +it!” exclaimed Judy, whose self-indulgent nature +had little sympathy for people who would do uncomfortable +things.</p> + +<p>“Then, on the other hand,” continued Molly, +“suppose my going would help her a little, don’t +you think it would be mean to turn her down? +Oh, say you think I ought to do it, because I’m +going to, hard as it seems.”</p> + +<p>Nance went over and put her arms around her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +friend, quite an unusual demonstration with her, +while Judy seized her hand and patted it tenderly.</p> + +<p>“Really, Molly, you are quite the nicest person +in the world,” she exclaimed. Then she +added: “By the way, Molly, can you spare the +time to tutor me for a month or so? I don’t +know what the rates are, but we can settle about +that later. Nance tells me I must get busy or +else take my walking papers. I’d be afraid of a +strange tutor. I’m a timid creature. But I +think I might manage to learn a few things from +you, Molly, dear.”</p> + +<p>Did Judy understand the look of immense relief +which instantly appeared on Molly’s sensitive +face? If she did she made no sign.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t say no,” she went on. “I know +you are awfully busy, and all that, but it would +be just an act of common charity.”</p> + +<p>“Say no?” cried Molly, laughing lightly. “I +can hardly wait to say yes,” and she cheerfully +got out six pairs of muddy boots from the closet, +enveloped herself in a large apron, slipped on a +pair of old gloves and went to work to clean and +black them. Molly had become official bootblack +at Queen’s Cottage at ten cents a pair when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +were not muddy, and fifteen cents when they +were.</p> + +<p>When she had completed her lowly job she sat +down at her desk and wrote two notes.</p> + +<p>One was to Judith Blount, in which she accepted +her invitation to wait at table in the most +polite and correct terms, and signed her name +“Mary Carmichael Washington Brown.”</p> + +<p>The second letter, which was to Frances Andrews, +was also a note of acceptance.</p> + +<p>Then Molly removed her collar, rolled up her +sleeves, kicked off her pumps—a signal that she +was going to begin work—and sat down to cram +mathematics,—the very hardest thing in life to +her and the subject which was to be a stumbling +block in her progress always.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br /> + +<small>AN INCIDENT OF THE COFFEE CUPS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Molly turned up at the Beta Phi House about +five o’clock the next evening. She wore a blue +linen so that if any grease sputtered it would fall +harmlessly on wash goods, and in other ways attired +herself as much like a maid as possible with +white collar and cuffs and a very plain tight arrangement +of the hair.</p> + +<p>“If I’m to be a servant, I might as well look +like one,” she thought, as she marched upstairs +and rapped on Judith’s door.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” called the voice of Jennie Wren. +“Judith’s gone walking with her guests,” she explained; +“but she left her orders with me, and +I’ll transmit them to you,” she added rather +grandly. “You are to do the cooking. Here are +all the things in the ice box, and there’s the gas +stove on the trunk. Miss Brinton and I will set +the table.”</p> + +<p>Molly gathered that Caroline Brinton, the unbending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +young woman from Philadelphia, had +been chosen as her assistant.</p> + +<p>The tiny ice box was stuffed full of provisions. +There was the inevitable beefsteak, as Sallie had +predicted; also canned soup; a head of celery, +olives, grape fruits, olive oil, mushrooms, cheese—really, +a bewildering display of food stuffs.</p> + +<p>“Did Miss Blount decide on the courses?” +Molly asked Jennie Wren.</p> + +<p>“No; she got the raw material and left the rest +entirely with you. ‘Tell her to get up a good +dinner for six people,’ she said. ‘I don’t care how +she does it, only she must have it promptly at +six-fifteen.’”</p> + +<p>There were only two holes to the gas stove and +likewise only two saucepans to fit over them, so +that it behooved Molly to look alive if she were +to prepare dinner for six in an hour and a +quarter.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the can opener?” she called.</p> + +<p>A calm, experienced cook with the patience of +a saint might have felt some slight irritability if +she had been placed in Molly’s shoes that evening. +Nothing could be found. There was no +can opener, no ice pick, the coffeepot had a limited +capacity of four cups, and there was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +broiler for the steak. It had to be cooked in a +pan. It must be confessed also that it was the +first time in her life Molly had ever cooked an +entire meal. She had only made what her +grandmother would have called “covered dishes,” +or surprise dishes, and she now found preparing +a dinner of four courses for six people rather a +bewildering task.</p> + +<p>At last there came the sound of voices in the +next room. She put on the beefsteak. Her +cheeks were flaming from the heat of the little +stove. Her back ached from leaning over, and +her head ached with responsibility and excitement.</p> + +<p>“Is everything all right?” demanded Judith, +blowing into the room with an air of “if it isn’t +it will be the worse for you.”</p> + +<p>“I believe so,” answered Molly.</p> + +<p>“Why did you put the anchovies on crackers?” +demanded the older girl irritably. “They should +have been on toast.”</p> + +<p>“Because there wasn’t enough bread for one +thing, and because there was no way to toast it +if there had been,” answered Molly shortly.</p> + +<p>No cook likes to be interfered with at that +crucial moment just before dinner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Here are your cap and apron,” went on Judith. +“You know how to wait, don’t you? Always +hand things at the left side.”</p> + +<p>“Water happens to be poured from the right,” +answered Molly, pinning on the little muslin cap. +She was in no mood to be dictated to by Judith +Blount or any other black-eyed vixen.</p> + +<p>Judith made no answer. She seemed excited +and absent-minded.</p> + +<p>Caroline placed the anchovies while Molly +poured the soup into cups, there being no plates. +The voices of the company floated in to her. +Jennie Wren had joined them, making the sixth.</p> + +<p>She heard a man’s voice exclaim:</p> + +<p>“I say, Ju-ju, I call this very luxurious. We +never had anything so fine as this at Harvard. +You always could hold up the parent and get +what you wanted. Now, I never had the nerve. +And, by the way, have you got a cook, too?”</p> + +<p>“Only for to-night,” answered Judith. “We +usually eat downstairs with the others.”</p> + +<p>“You’re working some poor little freshman, +ten to one,” answered Judith’s brother, for that +was evidently who it was. Then Molly heard +some one run up a brilliant scale and strike a +chord and a good baritone voice began singing:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘Oh, I’m a cook and a captain bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a mate of the Nancy brig,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a bo’sun tight and a midshipmatemite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the crew of the captain’s gig.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>“Why don’t you join in, Eddie? But I forgot. +It would never do for a Professor of English +Literature at a girls’ college to lift his voice in +ribald song.”</p> + +<p>Some one laughed. Molly recognized the voice +instantly. She knew that Professor Edwin +Green was dining at Judith’s that night, and her +inquiring mind reached out even further into the +realms of conjecture, and she guessed who was +the author of his light opera.</p> + +<p>“Cousin Edwin, will you sit there, next to +me?” said Judith’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Cousin?” repeated Molly. “So that’s it, is it?”</p> + +<p>Then other voices joined in—Mary Stewart, +Jennie Wren and Martha Schaeffer, a rich girl +from Chicago, who roomed in that house.</p> + +<p>They gobbled down the first course as people +usually dispatch relishes, and as Caroline removed +the dishes, Molly appeared with the soup. +None of the girls recognized her, of course, +which was perfectly good college etiquette, although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +Mary Stewart smiled when Molly placed +her cup of soup and whispered:</p> + +<p>“Good work.”</p> + +<p>Molly gave her a grateful look, and Professor +Edwin Green, looking up, caught a glimpse of +Molly’s flushed face, and smiled, too.</p> + +<p>“I say, Ju-ju, who’s your head waitress?” +Molly could not help overhearing Richard Blount +ask when she had left the room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, just a little Southern girl named Smith, +or something,” answered Judith carelessly.</p> + +<p>“That young lady,” said Professor Edwin +Green, “is Miss Molly Brown, of Kentucky.”</p> + +<p>The young freshman’s face was crimson when +she brought in the steak and placed it in front +of Mr. Blount.</p> + +<p>Then she took her stand correctly behind his +chair, with a plate in her hand, waiting for him +to carve.</p> + +<p>Sometimes two members of the same family are +so unlike that it is almost impossible to believe +that blood from the same stock runs in their +veins. So it was with Richard Blount and his +sister, Judith. She was tall and dark and arrogant, +and he was short and blond and full of +good-humored gayety. He rallied all the girls at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +the table. He teased his Cousin Edwin. He +teased his sister, and then he ended by highly +praising the food, looking all the time from one +corner of his mild blue eyes at Molly’s flushed +face.</p> + +<p>“Really,” he exclaimed, “a French chef must +have broiled this steak. Not even Delmonico, +nor Oscar himself at the Waldorf, could have +done it better. Isn’t it the top-notch, Eddie? +What’s this? Mushroom sauce? By Jupiter, it’s +wonderful to come out here in the wilds and get +such food.”</p> + +<p>Mary Stewart began to laugh. After all, it +was just good-natured raillery.</p> + +<p>“Why, Mr. Blount,” she said, “there is something +to be found here that is lots better than +porter-house steak.”</p> + +<p>“What is it? Name it, please!” cried Richard. +“If I must miss the train, I must have some, whatever +it is—cream puffs or chocolate fudge?”</p> + +<p>“It’s Kentucky ham of the finest, what do +you call it—breed? Three years old. You’ve +never eaten ham until you’ve tasted it.”</p> + +<p>She smiled charmingly at Molly, who pretended +to look unconscious while she passed the vegetables. +Judith endeavored to change the subject.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was angry with Mary for thus bringing her +freshman waitress into prominence. But Molly +was destined to be the heroine of the evening in +spite of all efforts against it.</p> + +<p>“Old Kentucky ham!” cried Richard Blount, +starting from his chair with mock seriousness, +“Where is it? I implore you to tell me. My soul +cries out for old ham from the dark and bloody +battleground of Kentucky!”</p> + +<p>Everybody began to laugh, and Judith exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Do hush, Richard. You are so absurd! Did +he behave this way at Harvard all the time, +Cousin Edwin?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; only more so. But tell me more of +this wonderful ham, Miss Stewart.”</p> + +<p>Molly wondered if Professor Green really understood +that it was all a joke on her when he +asked that question.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she formed a resolution. Following +her assistant into the next room, she whispered:</p> + +<p>“Which would you rather do, Miss Brinton? +Go over to Queen’s and ask Nance to give you +the rest of my ham or wait on the table while I +go?”</p> + +<p>“I’d rather get the ham,” replied Miss Brinton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +whose proud spirit was crushed by the menial +service she had been obliged to undertake that +evening.</p> + +<p>The dinner progressed. In a little while Molly +had cleared the table and was preparing to bring +on the grape-fruit salad when Caroline appeared +with the remnants of the ham. Molly removed +it from its wrappings and, placing it on a dish, +bore it triumphantly into the next room.</p> + +<p>“What’s this?” cried Richard Blount. “Do my +eyes deceive me? Am I dreaming? Is it possible——”</p> + +<p>“The old ham, or, rather, the attenuated ghost +of the old ham!” ejaculated Mary Stewart.</p> + +<p>Even Judith joined in the burst of merriment, +and Professor Green’s laugh was the gayest of +all.</p> + +<p>Molly returned with the carving knife and +fork, and Richard Blount began to snip off small +pieces.</p> + +<p>“‘Ham bone am very sweet,’” he sang, one +eye on Molly.</p> + +<p>“It is certainly wonderful,” exclaimed Professor +Green, as he tasted the delicate meat; “but it +seems like robbery to deprive the owner of it.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Edwin, you keep quiet, please,” interrupted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +Richard. “I’ve heard that some owners +of old hams are just as fond of things sweeter +than ham bones. A five-pound box ought to be +the equivalent of this, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Really, Richard, you go too far,” put in Judith, +frowning at her brother.</p> + +<p>But Richard took not the slightest notice of +her, nor did he pause until he had cleaned the ham +bone of every scrap of meat left on it.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to catch your train?” asked +Judith.</p> + +<p>“I think not to-night, Ju-ju,” he answered, smiling +amiably. “Edwin, can you put me up? If +not, I’ll stop at the inn in the village.”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed, you won’t, Dick. You must stop +with me. I have an extra bed, solely in hopes +you might stay in it some night. And later this +evening we might run over—er—a few notes.”</p> + +<p>He looked consciously at Richard, then he gave +Molly a swift, quizzical glance, remembering +probably that he had confided to her and her +alone that he was the author of the words of a +comic opera.</p> + +<p>Having cleared the table, Molly now returned +with the coffee. The cups jaggled as she handed +them. She was very weary, and her arms ached.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +When she had reached Professor Edwin Green, +Richard Blount, with his nervous, quick manner, +suddenly started from his chair and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Now, I know whom you remind me of—Ellen +Terry at sixteen.”</p> + +<p>Nobody but Molly realized for a moment that +he was talking to her, and she was so startled that +her wrist gave a twist and over went the tray +and three full coffee cups straight on to the knees +of the august Professor of English Literature.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of noise, Molly remembered. +She herself was so horrified and stunned +that she stood immovable, clutching the tray +wildly, as a drowning person clings to a life preserver. +She heard Judith cry:</p> + +<p>“How stupid! How could you have been so +unpardonably awkward!”</p> + +<p>At the same moment Mary Stewart said: +“It was entirely your fault, Mr. Blount. You +frightened the poor child with your wild behavior.”</p> + +<p>And Professor Green said:</p> + +<p>“Don’t scold, Judith. I’m to blame. I joggled +the tray with my elbow. There’s no harm done, +at any rate. These gray trousers will be much +improved by being dyed <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cafe au lait</i>.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Richard Blount rose from the table and +marched straight over to where Molly was standing +transfixed, still miserably holding to the tray.</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown,” he said humbly, “I want to +apologize. All this must have been very trying +for you, and you have behaved beautifully. I +hope you will forgive me. My only excuse is that +I am always forgetting my little sister and her +friends are not still children. Will you forgive +me?”</p> + +<p>He looked so manly and good-natured standing +there before her with his hand held out, that +Molly felt what slight indignation there was in +her heart melting away at once. She put her +hand in his.</p> + +<p>“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Blount,” she +said, and the young man who was a musician +pricked up his ears when he heard that soft, musical +voice.</p> + +<p>“And I’ve robbed you of your ham,” he continued.</p> + +<p>“It was a pleasure to know you enjoyed it,” +she said.</p> + +<p>Presently Molly began clearing the table. +Richard sat down at the piano. It was evident +that he never wandered far from his beloved instrument,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +and the girls gathered around him +while he ran over the first act of his new opera.</p> + +<p>Professor Edwin Green said good night and +took himself and his coffee-soaked trousers home +to his rooms.</p> + +<p>“You can follow later, Dickie,” he called.</p> + +<p>As he passed Molly, standing by the door, he +smiled at her again, and Molly smiled back, +though she was quite ready to cry.</p> + +<p>“The ham was delicious,” he said. “Thank you +very much.”</p> + +<p>That night, when Molly had wearily climbed +the stairs to her room and flung herself on her +couch, Nance, writing at her desk, called over:</p> + +<p>“Well, how was the beefsteak?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t get any,” said Molly. “Even if there +had been any left, I was too tired to eat anything. +I’m afraid I wasn’t born to be anybody’s cook, +Nance, or waitress, either.”</p> + +<p>And Molly turned her face to the wall and wept +silently.</p> + +<p>Lest we forget, we will say now that two days +after this episode of the coffee cups, there came, by +express for Miss Molly Brown, a five-pound box of +candy without a card, and the girls at Queen’s Cottage +feasted right royally for almost two evenings.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> + +<small>CONCERNING CLUBS,—AND A TEA PARTY.</small></h2> + + +<p>At the first meeting of the freshman class of +19—, Margaret Wakefield of Washington, D. C., +had been elected President.</p> + +<p>Just how this came about no one could exactly +say. She could not have been accused of electioneering +for herself, and yet she made an impression +somehow and had won the election by a large +majority.</p> + +<p>“Anybody who can talk like that ought to be +President of something,” Molly had observed +good naturedly. “She could make a real inauguration +speech, I believe, and she knows all +about Parliamentary Law, whatever that is.”</p> + +<p>“She dashed off the class constitution just as +easily as if she were writing a letter home,” said +Judy.</p> + +<p>“That’s not so easy, either,” added Nance +mournfully.</p> + +<p>The girls were silent. It had gradually leaked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +out as their friendship progressed that Nance’s +home was not an abode of happiness by any +means. And yet Nance had written a theme on +“Home,” which was so well done that she had +been highly complimented by Miss Pomeroy, who +had read it aloud to the class. Molly often wondered +just what manner of woman Nance’s +mother was, and she soon had an opportunity of +finding out for herself.</p> + +<p>But the conversation about the new class president +continued.</p> + +<p>“President Wakefield wants us to have bi-monthly +meetings,” continued Judy. “She wishes +to divide the class into committees and have a +chairman for each committee—”</p> + +<p>“Committees for what?” demanded Molly.</p> + +<p>“Dear knows,” laughed Judy, “but her father’s +a Congressman, and she has inherited his passion +for law and order, I suppose. She wants to conduct +a debate on Woman’s Suffrage to meet Saturdays. +It’s to be called ‘The Woman’s Franchise +Club,’ and she wishes to establish by-laws +and resolutions and a number of other things +that are Greek to me, for ‘the political body corporate.’ +She says it’s a crying shame that women +know so little about the constitution of their own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +country, and in establishing a debating society, +she hopes to do some missionary work in that +line.”</p> + +<p>Judy had risen and was waving her arms dramatically +while her voice rose and fell like an +old-time orator’s.</p> + +<p>“I suppose we ought,” said Molly; “but I’d +rather put it off a year or so. There are so many +other things to enjoy first. Besides, it will be four +years before I reach the voting age, and by that +time I hope my ‘intellects’ will have developed +sufficiently to take in the constitution of the country.”</p> + +<p>“Anyhow,” exclaimed Judy, “I’m proud to have +a class president who’s such a first-class public +speaker, because it takes it all off our shoulders. +Whenever there’s a speech to be made or anything +public and embarrassing to be done, we’ll +just vote for her to do it, because she will enjoy +it so much.”</p> + +<p>“But are you going to join the debating club?” +asked Nance.</p> + +<p>“I suppose it’s our duty to,” replied Molly; +“but I do hate to pin myself down. Suppose we +say we’ll go to one and listen?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you’d better settle it now, because here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +comes the President sailing up the walk. She’s +going the rounds now, I suppose, and in another +two minutes she’ll be springing the question on +us.”</p> + +<p>Judy, who was sitting at the front window of +her own room, nodded down into the yard and +smiled politely, and the girls had just time to +settle among themselves what they were going to +say when there was a smart rap on the door and +President Wakefield entered.</p> + +<p>She wore rather masculine-looking clothes, and +carried a business-like small-sized suit case in +one hand and a notebook in the other.</p> + +<p>“Hello, girls!” she began; “I’m so glad I +caught you together. It saves telling over the +same thing three times. I want to know first exactly +how you stand on the woman’s suffrage +question. Now, don’t be afraid to be frank +about it, and speak your minds. Of course, I’m +sure that, being women who are seeking the +higher education, you are all of you on the right +side—the side of the thinking woman of to-day——”</p> + +<p>Here Judy sneezed so violently that she almost +upset the little three-legged clover-leaf tea table +at her elbow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How do you feel on the subject, Molly?”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled broadly, while Nance cleared her +throat and Judy blew her nose and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“I think I must be taking cold. Excuse me +while I get a sweater,” and disappeared in the +closet.</p> + +<p>“I—I’m afraid I don’t know very much about +the subject, Margaret. You see, I was brought +up in the country, and I haven’t had a chance to +go into woman’s suffrage very deeply.”</p> + +<p>“There is no time like the present for beginning, +then,” said Margaret promptly, opening the +business-like little suit case. “Read these two +pamphlets and you’ll get the gist of the entire +subject clearly and concisely expressed. I will +call on you for an opinion next week after you’ve +had time to study the question a bit.”</p> + +<p>Molly took the pamphlets and began hastily +turning the leaves. She wanted to laugh, but +she felt certain it would offend Margaret deeply +not to be taken seriously, and she controlled her +facial muscles with an effort while she waited for +attack No. Two.</p> + +<p>“Nance, have you taken any interest in this +question?” continued Margaret, who seemed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +have the patience of a fanatic spreading his belief.</p> + +<p>“I know something about it,” replied Nance +quietly. “You see, my mother is President of a +Woman’s Suffrage Association, and she spends +most of her time going about the country making +speeches for the National Association.”</p> + +<p>“What, is your mother Mrs. Anna Oldham, the +famous clubwoman?” cried Margaret.</p> + +<p>Nance nodded her head silently.</p> + +<p>“Why, she is one of the greatest authorities on +women’s suffrage in the country!” exclaimed +Margaret with great enthusiasm. “It says so +here. Look, it gives a little sketch of her life +and titles. She is president of two big societies +and an officer in five others. It’s all in this little +book called ‘Famous Club Women in America +and England.’ Dear me,” continued Margaret +modestly, “I think I’d better resign and give the +chair to you, Nance. I’m nobody to be preaching +to you when you must know the subject from +beginning to end.”</p> + +<p>Nance smiled in her curious, whimsical way.</p> + +<p>“Have you ever eaten too much of something, +Margaret,” she said, “and then hated it ever afterward?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” replied the President, “that has +happened to every one, I suppose. Mince pie and +I have been strangers to each other for many +years on that account.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” continued Nance, “I’ve been fed on +clubs until I feel like a Strausberg goose. I’ve +had them crammed down my throat since I was +five years old. When I was twelve, I was my +mother’s secretary, and I’ve sent off thousands of +just such pamphlets as you are distributing now. +I learned to write on the typewriter so I could +copy my mother’s speeches. I’ve been usher at +club conventions and page at committee meetings. +I’ve distributed hundreds of badges with +‘Votes for Women’ printed on them. I had to +make a hundred copies of mother’s speech on ‘The +Constitution and By-Laws of the United States,’ +and send them to a hundred different women’s +clubs. So, you see,” she added, simply, frowning +to keep back her tears, “I think I’ll take a rest +from clubs while I’m at college and begin to enjoy +life a little with Molly and Judy.”</p> + +<p>Margaret Wakefield, who was really a very +nice girl and exceedingly well-bred, leaned over +and placed a firm, rather large hand on Nance’s.</p> + +<p>“I should think you had had enough,” she exclaimed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +giving the hand a warm squeeze. Seeing +teardrops glistening in Nance’s eyes, she rose +and started to the door. “If ever you do want to +come to any of the meetings, you will be very +welcome, girls,” she said; “but you don’t want to +overdo anything in life, you know, and if there +are things that interest you more than Woman’s +Suffrage you oughtn’t to sacrifice yourselves. +People should follow their own bent, I think. +Good-bye,” she went on, smiling brightly, “and +don’t bother to read the pamphlets, Molly, dear, if +you don’t want to. It’s a poor way to carry a +point to make a bugbear of the subject.”</p> + +<p>She went out quietly and closed the door.</p> + +<p>“I call her a perfect lady,” exclaimed Molly, +trying not to look at Nance, but wishing at the +same time that her friend would give way just +once and have a good cry.</p> + +<p>“Let’s cut study this afternoon and take a +walk,” exclaimed Judy. “Trot along and get on +your sweaters. It’s much too glorious to stay indoors. +Nance, can’t you do your theme after +supper? Molly, you look a little peaked. It will +do you good to breathe the fresh, untainted air of +the pine woods.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judy, it must be confessed, was always glad +of a good excuse to get away from her books.</p> + +<p>“Splendid!” cried Molly with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll bring my English tea basket,” went +on Judy. “Who’s got any cookies?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” said Nance, now fully recovered.</p> + +<p>In five minutes the three girls had started +across the campus to the road and presently were +making for the pine woods that bordered the +pretty lake. Everybody seemed to be out roaming +the country that beautiful autumn afternoon. +Parties of girls came swinging past, who had +been on long tramps through the woods and over +to the distant hills which formed a blue and misty +background to the lovely rolling country. The +lake was dotted with canoes and rowboats, and +from far down the road that wound its way +through the valley there came the sound of singing. +Presently a wagon-load of girls emerged +into view, followed by another wagon filled with +autumn leaves and evergreens.</p> + +<p>“It’s the sophomore committee on decoration,” +Judy explained. Apparently she knew everything +that happened at college. “They are getting the +decorations for the gym. for the ball to-morrow +night.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly quickly changed the subject. She had +had two invitations to go to the Sophomore-Freshman +Ball since she had accepted Frances +Andrews’ offer, and several of the sophomores +had been to see her to ask her to change her mind, +but, having given her word, Molly intended to +keep it, no matter what was to pay.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go to the upper end of the lake,” she +suggested. “It’s wilder and much prettier,” and +she led the way briskly along the path through the +pine woods.</p> + +<p>In a little while they came out at the other end +of the small body of water where the woods +abruptly ended at the foot of a hill called “Round +Head,” which the girls proceeded to climb. From +this eminence could be seen a widespreading +panorama of hills and valleys, little streams and +bits of forests, and beyond the pine woods the +college itself, its campus spread at its feet like +a mat of emerald green.</p> + +<p>The girls paused breathlessly and Judy put +down her tea basket.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where a little refreshment might be +very welcome,” she said, opening her basket of +which she was justly proud, for not many girls at +Wellington could boast of such a possession. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +filled the little kettle from the bottle of water she +had taken the precaution to bring along, and they +sat down in a circle on the turf. The autumn had +been a dry one, and the ground was not damp. +Nibbling cookies and sweet chocolate, they waited +for the water to boil.</p> + +<p>“Look, here comes some one,” whispered Judy, +indicating the figure of a man appearing around +the side of the hill.</p> + +<p>“I do hope it’s not a tramp,” exclaimed Nance +uneasily.</p> + +<p>Molly Brown hoped so, too, although she said +nothing. But she felt nervous, as who wouldn’t +in that lonely place? As the man came nearer, it +became plain that he was making straight for +them, and he did most assuredly look like a wanderer +of some kind. He was dressed in an old +suit of rough gray, wore an old felt hat and +carried a staff like a pilgrim. The girls sat quite +still and said nothing. There had been a silent +understanding among them that it was better not +to run. As the man drew nearer, Molly became +suddenly conscious of the fact that across the +gray trousers just above the knees was a deep +coffee-colored stain.</p> + +<p>The next moment the man stood before them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +leaning on his staff, his hat under his arm. It +was “Epiménides Antinous Green.”</p> + +<p>“Confess now,” he said, smiling at all of them +and looking at Molly, whom he knew best of the +three, “you took me for a tramp?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly for a tramp,” answered Molly; +“but for one who tramps.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the difference, Miss Brown?” he asked +laughing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, everything. Clothes——” she paused, +blushing deeply. Her eyes had fallen on the coffee +stain. “Why doesn’t he have it cleaned off?” +she thought, frowning slightly. “And—and +looks,” she continued out loud.</p> + +<p>“Even in the walk,” Judy finished. “Perhaps +we can give you a cup of tea, Professor,” she +added politely.</p> + +<p>The Professor was only too glad for a cup of +tea. He had been roaming the hills all day, he +said, and he was tired and thirsty. While he +sipped the fragrant beverage, he glanced at his +watch.</p> + +<p>“The truth is, I had an appointment at this +spot at four-thirty,” he announced. “I was to +meet my young brother George, familiarly known +as ‘Dodo.’ He’s at Exmoor College, ten miles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +over, and was to walk across the valley to the +rendezvous, and I was to conduct him safely to +my rooms for supper. He was afraid to enter +the college by the front gate for fear of meeting +several hundreds of young women. He runs like +a scared rabbit if he sees a girl a block off.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t it give him an awful shock when he +catches a glimpse of us waiting here on the hilltop?” +asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“It’s a shock that won’t hurt him,” replied the +professor. “We’ll see what happens, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>He put his cup and saucer on the ground, while +his quizzical eyes, which seemed to laugh even +when his face was serious, turned toward Molly. +And Molly was well worth looking at that afternoon, +although she herself was much dissatisfied +with her appearance. Her auburn hair had almost +slipped down her back. Her blue linen shirtwaist +was decidedly blousey at the waist line. “It’s +because I haven’t enough shape to keep it down,” +she was wont to complain. Her cheeks were +glowing and her eyes as calmly blue as the summer +skies.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps we’d better start on,” said Nance uneasily. +She always felt an inexplicable shyness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +in the presence of men, and her friends had been +known to nickname her “old maid.”</p> + +<p>But before Professor Green could protest that +he was only too glad to have his bashful brother +make the acquaintance of three charming college +girls, Judy, ever on the alert, exclaimed, +“Look, there he comes around the side of the +hill.”</p> + +<p>The Professor rose and signaled with his hat, +chuckling to himself, as he watched his youthful +brother pause irresolutely on the hillside.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Dodo,” he shouted, making a trumpet +of his hands.</p> + +<p>“I believe not this afternoon, thank you,” Dodo +trumpeted back. “I have an important engagement +at six.”</p> + +<p>The girls could not keep from laughing.</p> + +<p>“It’s a shame to frighten the poor soul like +that,” exclaimed Molly. “We’ll start back, Professor, +and leave him in peace.”</p> + +<p>But the Professor was a man of determination, +and had made up his mind to bring his shy +brother into the presence of ladies that afternoon, +very attractive ladies at that, of George’s own +age, with simple, unaffected manners, calculated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +to make a shy young man forget for the moment +that he had an affliction of agonizing diffidence.</p> + +<p>“George,” called the professor, running a little +way down the hillside, “come back and don’t +be a fool.”</p> + +<p>The wretched lad turned his scarlet face in +their direction and began to climb the hill. He +was a tall, overgrown youth, with large hands +and feet, and when he stood in their midst, holding +his cap nervously in both hands, while the +Professor performed the introductions, he looked +like a soldier facing the battle.</p> + +<p>It remained for Molly and Judy to put him at +his ease, however, with tea and cookies and questions +about Exmoor College, while the Professor +conversed with Nance about life at Wellington, +and which study she liked best. At last the spirit +of George emerged from its shy retreat, and he +forgot to feel self-conscious or afraid. They rose, +packed the tea things and started back. And it +was the Professor who carried Judy’s tea basket, +while George, glancing from Molly’s blue eyes to +Judy’s soft gray ones, strolled between them and +related a thrilling tale of college hazing.</p> + +<p>“That was a swift remedy, was it not, Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +Oldham?” observed the Professor, laughing under +his breath.</p> + +<p>But undoubtedly the cure was complete, for +that very evening Molly received a note, written +in a crabbed boyish hand, and signed “George +Green,” inviting the three girls to ride over to +Exmoor on the trolley the following Saturday and +spend the day. Miss Green, an older sister, would +act as chaperone.</p> + +<p>And not a few thrills did these young ladies +experience at the prospect.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br /> + +<small>RUMORS AND MYSTERIES.</small></h2> + + +<p>How many warm-hearted, impetuous people get +themselves into holes because of those two qualities +which are very closely allied indeed; and +Molly Brown was one of those people. Carried +away by emotions of generosity, she found herself +constantly going farther than she realized at +the moment. Why, for instance, could she not +have put Frances Andrews off with an excuse for +a day or so? Some one would surely have asked +her to the Sophomore-Freshman ball.</p> + +<p>And if she had only liked Frances, matters +would have been different. If it had been an act +of friendship, of deep devotion. But in spite of +herself, she could not bring herself to trust that +strange girl, beautiful and clever as she undoubtedly +was, and sorry as Molly was for her. After +all, it was rather selfish of Frances to have obtained +the promise from Molly. Did she think it +would reinstate her in the affections of her class<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +to be seen in the company of the popular young +freshman?</p> + +<p>All this time, Molly said nothing to her +friends, but on the morning of the ball she could +not conceal from Judy and Nance her apprehension +and general depression. And seeing their +friend’s lack-lustre eye and drooping countenance, +they held a counsel of war in Judy’s small bedroom.</p> + +<p>At the end of this whispered conference, Judy +was heard to remark:</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid of the girl, to tell you the truth. +Her fiery eyes and her two-pronged tongue seem +to take all the spirit out of me.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid of her,” said Nance, who had +a two-pronged tongue of her own, once she was +stirred into action. “You wait here for me, and +when I come back, you can go and notify the +sophomores of what’s happened. Of course, +Molly will get to the ball all right. The thing is +to extricate her from the situation by the most +tactful and surest means.”</p> + +<p>Judy laughed.</p> + +<p>“No,” she answered, “the thing is not to let +Molly know we have saved her life.”</p> + +<p>“If Frances hadn’t done that witch’s stunt and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +said all those malicious things at Molly’s Kentucky +spread, I don’t think I should have minded +so much. And do you know, Judy, that the report +has spread abroad that she and Molly had +prepared the whole thing beforehand, speeches +and all and were in league together? You see, +Molly was the only one who wasn’t hit.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean it,” cried Judy. “Then, more +than ever, I want to spare the child the humiliation +she might have to suffer if she went with +Frances to-night. Go forth to battle, Nance, and +may the saints preserve you.”</p> + +<p>Nance girded her sweater about her like a coat +of mail, stiffened her backbone, pressed her lips +together and marched out to the fray. She never +told even Judy exactly what took place between +Frances and her in that small room, with its bewildering +array of fine trappings, silver combs +and brushes, yellow silk curtains at the window, +Turkish rugs, books and pictures. No one had +ever seen the room except Molly the night of the +spread, when it was too dark to make out what +was in it.</p> + +<p>There was no loud talking. Whatever was +said was of the tense quiet kind, and presently +Nance emerged unscathed from the encounter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She made me give my word of honor not to +tell what was said,” she announced to the palpitating +Judy, “but she’s writing the note to Molly +now; so go quickly and inform someone that +Molly has no escort for the ball.”</p> + +<p>Judy departed much mystified and Nance remained +discreetly away from her own room until +she perceived Frances steal down the hall, push +a note under their door and then hurry back, +bang her own door and lock it.</p> + +<p>Then, after a moment’s grace, Nance marched +boldly to their chamber. Molly was reading the +note.</p> + +<p>“What do you think, Nance?” she exclaimed +with a tone of evident relief in her voice, +“Frances Andrews can’t go to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, and what reason does she give?” +asked Nance, feeling very much like a conspirator +now that she was obliged to face Molly.</p> + +<p>“None. She simply says ‘I’m sorry I can’t +go to-night. Hope you’ll enjoy it. F. A.’ How +does she expect me to get there, I wonder, at the +eleventh hour?”</p> + +<p>Nance examined her finger nails attentively.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she’s seen to that,” she replied after +a pause.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nance,” said Molly, presently, “I’m so relieved +that I think I’ll have to ’fess up. It’s mean +of me, I know, and I feel awfully ungenerous to +be so glad. You see, nobody can ever tell what +strange, freakish thing she’s going to do. Of +course she was the witch. I knew it from the +conscious look that came into her face when I +told her about it afterwards.”</p> + +<p>“The mistake she has made is being defiant +instead of repentant,” said Nance. “Instead of +trying to brazen it out, she ought to ‘walk softly,’ +as the Bible says, and keep quiet. She is the +most embittered soul I ever met in all my life. +If hatred counted for much, her hatred for her +own class would burn it to a cinder.”</p> + +<p>There was a sound of hurrying footsteps on +the stairs and Judy burst into the room. Her face +was aflame and she flung herself into a chair +panting for breath.</p> + +<p>“What’s your hurry?” asked Molly, slipping +on her jacket. “Excuse me, I must be chasing +along to French. Tell her the news, Nance.”</p> + +<p>No need to tell Judy news, who had news of +her own.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, Nance,” she exclaimed, “there are +times when I think the position of a freshman is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +one of the lowliest things in life. The first +sophomore I met was Judith Blount. I did feel +a little timid, but I told her what had happened. +‘You can tell your friend,’ she said, ‘that we +sophomores are not so gullible as all that, and if +her nerve has failed her at the last moment, it’s +her fault, not ours.’”</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy,” exclaimed Nance, “you didn’t +know you were jumping from the frying pan +right into the fire when you told that to Judith +Blount, who has never liked Molly from the beginning. +It’s jealousy, pure and simple, I think; +although there almost seems to be something +more behind it sometimes. She takes such pains +to be disagreeable. Was anyone else there to +hear you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. She was surrounded by her satellites, +Jennie Wren and a few others.”</p> + +<p>The two girls sat in gloomy silence for a few +minutes. After that rebuff, they hardly cared to +circulate the bit of news any further in the sophomore +class, which, it must be confessed, had the +reputation of being run by a clique of the most +arrogant and snobbish set of girls Wellington +College had ever known.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go and tell our woes to nice old Sally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +Marks,” suggested Judy, and off they marched in +search of the good-natured funny Sally, whose +room was on the floor below.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” she called at their tap on the door, +and noticing at once their serious faces, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“I declare, I am beginning to feel like the +Oracle at Delphi. What’s the trouble, now, my +children?”</p> + +<p>“You ought never to have gone to Judith +Blount,” she continued after they had unburdened +their secrets. But having gone to her, “it +would be well,” so spake the Oracle, “to sit back +and hold tight. The news is certain to spread, +and of course only Judith and her ring would believe +that Molly sent you out to find her an escort. +There is one thing sure: Molly is obliged +to go to the dance, not only because she has so +many friends, but because she figures, I am told, +so largely in ‘Jokes & Croaks,’ and it would be +sport spoiled if she wasn’t there when the things +are read out. Now, trot along, children, I’m +cramming for an exam., and I’m busier than the +busiest person in Wellington to-day.”</p> + +<p>The afternoon dragged itself slowly along. +Nance took her best dress out of its wrappings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +heated a little iron and smoothed out its wrinkles. +She lifted Molly’s blue crepe from its hanger and +laid it on the couch.</p> + +<p>“It was made in the simplest possible way out +of the least possible goods in the least possible +time,” she informed Judy, who had wickedly cut +a class and sat moping in her friend’s room. +“Isn’t it pretty? We made it together, and I’m +really quite puffed up about the result. It’s Empire, +you know,” she added proudly.</p> + +<p>The dress did indeed show the short Empire +waist. The round neck was cut out and finished +with a frill of creamy lace which Molly happened +to have, and there had not been much of a struggle +with the sleeves, which came only to the +elbow and were to all intents and purposes shapeless. +But the color was the thing, as Molly had +said.</p> + +<p>“I’d be willing to drown in a color like that,” +Judy observed. Judy was quite a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">poseuse</i> about +colors and assured her friends that she could +never wear red because it inflamed her temper +and made her cross; that violet quieted her +nerves; green stirred her ambitions, and blue +aroused her sympathies. While they were looking +at the dress, Margaret Wakefield and Jessie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +Lynch, her roommate and boon companion, after +rapping on the door, sailed into the room.</p> + +<p>“We came to consult about clothes,” they announced. +“Is this to be an evening dress affair, +or what’s proper to wear?”</p> + +<p>“The best you have,” replied Judy, “at least +that’s what I was told by the oracular Sally below +stairs.”</p> + +<p>“For the love of heaven, don’t tell that to +Jessie,” cried Margaret. “If you give her so +much rope, she’ll be wearing purple velvet and +cloth of gold.”</p> + +<p>Jessie laughed good-naturedly. She was already +considered the best dressed and prettiest +girl in the freshman class, and it was a joke at +Queen’s Cottage that she had been obliged to +apply to the matron for more closet room, because +the large one she shared with Margaret +Wakefield was not nearly adequate for her +numerous frocks. It had been a constant wonder +to the other girls in the house that these two +opposite types could have become such intimate +friends; but friends they were, and continued to +be throughout their college course, although +Jessie never could rake up an interest in the +U. S. Constitution or woman’s suffrage, either.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two girls really formed a sort of combination +of brains and beauty, and it became generally +known that Jessie would hardly have pulled +through the four years, except for the indefatigable +efforts of her faithful friend, Margaret.</p> + +<p>Mabel Hinton, a Queen’s Cottage freshman, +now popped her head in at the door, which was +half open. She was a very odd character, but +she was popular with her friends, who called her +“The Martian,” probably because she had a phenomenal +intellect and wore enormous glasses in +tortoise shell frames which made her eyes look +like a pair of full moons.</p> + +<p>“I thought I heard a racket,” she said in her +crisp, catchy voice. “I suppose you are all discussing +the news.”</p> + +<p>“News? What news?” they demanded.</p> + +<p>She closed the door carefully and came farther +into the room.</p> + +<p>“Gather around me, girls,” she said mysteriously, +enjoying their curiosity.</p> + +<p>“But what is it, Mabel? Don’t keep us in suspense,” +cried Judy, always impatient.</p> + +<p>“Well, there is evidence that someone was +going to set fire to the gym. to-night,” she began, +in a whisper. “This morning a bundle of oil-soaked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +rags was discovered in a closet, and then +they began to search and found several other +bundles like the first. There was a lot of excitement, +and the Prex came over. They tried +to keep it quiet, but the story leaked out, of +course, and is still leaking——” she smiled.</p> + +<p>The girls exchanged horrified glances. What +terrible disaster might not have befallen them if +the rags had not been discovered?</p> + +<p>“Of course it was the work of an insane person,” +said Margaret Wakefield.</p> + +<p>“Of course, but who? Is she one of the students +or some outside person?”</p> + +<p>With a common instinct, Judy and Nance +looked up at the same moment. Their glances +met. Without making a sound, Judy’s lips formed +the word “Frances.”</p> + +<p>“Is the dance to take place, then?” asked Jessie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. It’s all been hushed up and things +will go on just as usual. I’m going to look on +from the balcony. I shan’t mingle with the +dancers, because they knock off my spectacles and +generally upset my equilibrium.”</p> + +<p>The door opened and Molly appeared in their +midst like a gracefully angular wraith, for her +face looked white, her shoulders drooped and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +long slim arms hung down at her sides dejectedly.</p> + +<p>“Why, Molly, dear, has anything happened to +you?” cried Nance.</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t say that nothing has happened,” +answered Molly, sinking into a chair and resting +her chin on her hand. “I have been put through +an ordeal this day, why, I can never tell you, but +I am glad you are all here so that I can tell you +about it.”</p> + +<p>They pressed about her, full of sympathy and +friendliness, while Judy, who loved comfort and +recognized the needs of the flesh under the most +trying circumstances, lit Nance’s alcohol lamp +and put on the kettle to make tea.</p> + +<p>“But what is it?” they all demanded, seeing +that Molly had fallen into a silence.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been with the President for the last +hour,” she said, “though for what reason I can’t +explain. I can’t imagine why I was sent for and +brought to her private office. She was very nice +and kind. She asked me a lot of questions about +myself and all of Queen’s girls. I was glad +enough to answer them, because we have nothing +to be ashamed of, have we, girls?” Molly rose +and stood before them, spreading out her hands +with a kind of deprecating gesture. The circle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +of faces before her almost seemed abashed under +the steady gaze of her clear blue eyes. “It was +a pleasure to tell her what nice girls were stopping +at Queen’s Cottage.”</p> + +<p>“Did she mention?” began Judy and pointed to +the dividing wall of the next room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I was coming to that. But what do +I know about——” Mollie stopped short and +caught her breath. Her eyes turned towards the +door, which was opened softly. There stood +Frances Andrews.</p> + +<p>She had evidently just come in, for she still +wore her sweater and tam o’ shanter, and brought +with her the smell of the fresh piney air.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right about your escort for to-night, +Miss Brown. You are to go with Miss Stewart, +who has got special privilege from the sophomore +president to take you. Good-bye. I hope you’ll +have a ripping time. I shan’t see you at supper. +I’m going off on the 6.15 train and won’t be back +until Sunday night.”</p> + +<p>There was such a tense feeling in the circle of +freshmen as Frances stood there, that, as Judy +remarked afterwards, they almost crackled with +electricity.</p> + +<p>It was quite late, and as most of the girls intended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +to dress for the party before supper, they +took their departure immediately without any +comment.</p> + +<p>“Is anything special the matter?” asked Molly, +after they had gone and she was left alone with +her friends.</p> + +<p>They told her the strange story which Mabel +Hinton had reported to them a little while before.</p> + +<p>“But that is the work of a lunatic,” exclaimed +Molly, horrified.</p> + +<p>“And I suppose,” went on Nance, “that the reason +Prexy sent for you was that she suspected +a certain person, who shall be nameless, and she +was told that you were the only person who had +ever been nice to her, and furthermore that you +were going to the dance with her.”</p> + +<p>“Of course that must be the reason,” said +Molly, “and of course it’s absurd, I mean suspecting +Frances Andrews. She might be accused of +many things, but she is certainly in her right +mind. She’s much cleverer than lots of the girls +in her class.”</p> + +<p>“Clever, yes. But should you call her balanced?”</p> + +<p>Molly did not answer. She felt anxious and +frightened, and a rap on the door at that moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +made her jump with nervousness. It proved to +be one of the maids of the house with two boxes +of flowers, both for Molly. One was pink roses +and contained the card of Mary Stewart, and the +other was violets, and contained no card whatever.</p> + +<p>She divided the violets in half and made her +two friends wear them that night to the dance.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER X.<br /> + +<small>JOKES AND CROAKS.</small></h2> + + +<p>“I’m beginning to feel that we shall issue happily +out of all our troubles,” cried Judy Kean, +bursting into her friends’ room without knocking, +“and the reason why I feel that way is because +when I am clothed in silk attire my soul +is clothed in joy. Especially when there’s dancing +to follow. Button me up, someone, please, so +that I may take a good look at my resplendent +form in your mirror. I can’t see more than a +square inch of neck in my own two by four.”</p> + +<p>The girls stood back to admire their friend, +who indulged her artistic fancy in rather theatrical +clothes much too old for her, but who usually +succeeded in gaining the effect she sought.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, ‘she walks in beauty like the night,’” +said Molly laughing. “You look like a charming +and very youthful widow-lady, Judy, but how +comes it you are wearing black?”</p> + +<p>“Black is for certain types,” replied Judy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +sagely, “and I am one of them. Next to black my +bilious skin takes on a dazzling, creamy tint and +my mouse-colored hair assumes a yellow glint +that is not its own.”</p> + +<p>The girls laughed at their erratic friend, who +was, indeed, dressed in black chiffon, from the +fluffy folds of which her vivacious young face +glowed like a flower.</p> + +<p>“If you object to me, wait until you see Jessie,” +cried Judy. “She might be going to the opera, +she is so fine. She is wearing pink satin that +glistens all over like a Christmas tree with little +shiny things.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Nance, whose well balanced +and correct tastes in most things rarely +failed her, was the most suitably dressed of our +girls, in her pretty white lingerie frock.</p> + +<p>At eight o’clock that evening Molly rolled away +luxuriously in a village hack with Mary Stewart, +holding her roses tenderly and carefully under her +gray eiderdown cape, so as not to crush them.</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully glad I was so lucky as to draw +you this evening, Molly,” the older girl was saying.</p> + +<p>“I’m the lucky one,” answered Molly, her +thoughts reverting to the strange discovery of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +the morning. “Oh, Miss Stewart, what did +Frances Andrews do last year to get herself into +such a mess and be frozen out by all her class this +year?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you perhaps some day, but not to-night. +We want to enjoy ourselves to-night. +Can you guide, Molly?”</p> + +<p>“Like a streak. I always guided at home at +the school dances, because I was the tallest girl +in my class.”</p> + +<p>“I’m a guider, too,” laughed Mary, “and when +two guiders come together, I imagine it’s a good +deal like a tug of war.”</p> + +<p>During the ride over to the gymnasium, neither +of the girls mentioned the thing uppermost in +their minds: the attempt to set the gymnasium on +fire that night. Nor was the rumor referred to +by anyone at the dance later. It was a strictly +forbidden topic, the President herself having issued +orders.</p> + +<p>The great room was a mass of foliage and +bunting, Japanese lanterns and incandescent +lights in many colors, and it was really quite a +brilliant affair according to Molly’s notions, who +had never seen anything but small country dances +usually given at the schoolhouse several miles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +from her home. Lovely music floated from behind +a screen of palms and lovely girls floated on +the floor in couples, to the strains of the latest +waltz.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I’m going to be an awful wallflower,” +thought Molly, feeling suddenly overgrown +and awkward in the midst of this swirling +mass of grace and beauty. “I can’t help feeling +queer and I don’t seem to recognize anybody.”</p> + +<p>But Molly had plenty of partners that evening, +and after that first delightful waltz, it was nearly +an hour before she caught a glimpse of Mary +Stewart again in the crowd of dancers.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it jolly?” called Judy, as they dashed past +each other in a romping barn dance.</p> + +<p>“I never thought I could have such a good time +at a manless party,” Jessie Lynch confided to +Molly while they rested against the wall later. +“But, really, it’s quite as good fun.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it?” replied Molly. “I think I never +had a better time in my life. But I’m afraid our +roommates and friends are not enjoying it very +much,” she added ruefully, pointing to the gallery, +where seated in a silent bored row were +Margaret Wakefield, Nance Oldham and Mabel +Hinton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Jessie, “you would never expect +Mabel to join this mad throng, but I’m +surprised at Nance and Margaret.”</p> + +<p>“Margaret prefers conversation parties, I suppose, +and Nance is not fond of dancing, either. +She would always rather look on, she says.”</p> + +<p>The two girls were standing near the musicians +and from the other side of the screen of palms +they now heard a voice say:</p> + +<p>“Have you danced with the fantastic Empress +Josephine as yet?”</p> + +<p>“Not as yet,” came the answer with a laugh. +“But be careful, she is near——”</p> + +<p>Molly moved away hastily, her face crimson.</p> + +<p>Jessie had heard the question also and recognized +the voice of Judith Blount.</p> + +<p>“Why, Molly,” she exclaimed, glancing at her +face, “you don’t think they meant——”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Molly, trying to smile naturally, +“I do.”</p> + +<p>She glanced down at her home-made dress. +Perhaps it did look amateurish. She and Nance +had worked very hard over it, but, after all, they +were not experienced dressmakers.</p> + +<p>“Why, you look perfectly charming,” went on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +Jessie generously. “The color is exactly right +for you——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, color,” answered Molly, “but there ought +to be something besides color to a dress, you +know. Never mind, I shouldn’t be such a sensitive +plant, Jessie. One ought not to mind being +called fantastic. It’s not nearly so bad as being +called—well, malicious—cruel. I’d rather be fantastic +than any of those things. But I did think +the dress was pretty when we made it.”</p> + +<p>“Come along, and let’s get some lemonade, +Molly. Your dress is sweet and suits you exactly, +so there.”</p> + +<p>Then someone came up and claimed Jessie for +the next dance, but Molly was grateful to the +pretty butterfly creature for her assurances and +she resolved to forget all about her dress. As she +lingered in the corner, uncertain whether to stay +where she was or join her friends in the gallery, +Mary Stewart made her way through the crowd +and called:</p> + +<p>“Oh, here you are. Some of the seniors are +just outside and want to meet you. Will you +come?”</p> + +<p>“I should think I would,” replied Molly, joyfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +Fantastic, or not, she had one good friend +among the older girls.</p> + +<p>“This is Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky,” announced +Mary Stewart presently to a dozen august +seniors who shook her hand and began asking +her questions.</p> + +<p>“We had two reasons for wanting to meet you, +Miss Brown,” here put in a very handsome big +girl, who spoke in an authoritative tone, which +made everybody stop and listen. (She was, in +fact, the President of the senior class.) “One +of course was just to make your acquaintance, +and the other was to ask if you would do us a +favor. We are going to have a living picture +show Friday week for the benefit of the Students’ +Fund, and we wondered if you would pose in one +of the pictures, maybe several, we haven’t decided +on them yet. But that dress must be in +one of them, don’t you think so, Mary? One of +Romney’s Lady Hamilton pictures for instance, +with a white gauze fichu; or a Sir Thomas Lawrence +portrait——”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think it’s too fantastic?” asked +Molly.</p> + +<p>“What, that lovely blue thing? Heavens, no! +it’s charming——”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly had barely time to thank her and accept +the invitation, when she and Mary were dragged +off to make up the big circle of “right and left +all around,” which wound up the dance. After +this whirling romp, three loud raps were heard +and gradually the noise of talking and laughter +subsided into absolute silence. A girl had +mounted the platform. She carried a megaphone +in one hand and a book in the other. She was the +official reader of her class, and now proceeded to +recite through the megaphone all the best and +most amusing material from “Jokes & Croaks.” +According to time honored custom, the jokes were +greeted with applause and laughter, and the +croaks with groans and laughter, and anybody +who groaned at a joke or applauded a croak, if +she happened to be caught, was publicly humiliated +by being made to stand up and face the jeers +of the multitude. The girls finally decided, after +many ludicrous mistakes, that the jokes were on +the sophomores and the croaks were on the freshmen. +For instance, here was a croak:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“A lady of notable luck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who cared not for turkey or duck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cried, ‘Give me old ham<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And I don’t give a slam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it comes from Vermont or Kaintuck.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>This was greeted with laughing groans, and +Molly for the first time realized the significance +of her roommate’s name.</p> + +<p>Margaret Wakefield figured in several croaks, +as “the Suffragette of Queen’s.” In fact Queen’s +girls came in for a good many croaks and began +to wait fearfully for what was to come next. But +the witticisms were all quite good-natured, even +the last, which called forth so many merry groans +that they soon ceased to be groans at all and became +uproarious laughter, and Molly, very red +and laughing, too, was the centre of all eyes. +This was the croak:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“They have locked me in the Cloisters,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They have fastened up the gate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me out; Oh, let me out.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It’s getting very late.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Tis said the ghosts of classes gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do wander here at night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me out; Oh, let me out,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before I die of fright!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then there rang a clarion voice.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It’s tone was loud and clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Oh, dry your eyes and cease your cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For help, I ween, is near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But promise me one little thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before I ope the gate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, never pass the coffee tray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I am sitting nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if you pass the coffee tray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, then, just pass me by!’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>It was all very jolly and delightful, and for the +first time the girls felt that they were really a +part of the college life.</p> + +<p>Mary Stewart was very sweet to Molly when +she took her home that night, and the young +freshman never realized until long afterwards, +when she was a senior herself, what a nice thing +her friend had done; for sophomore-freshman +receptions were an old story to Mary Stewart.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br /> + +<small>EXMOOR COLLEGE.</small></h2> + + +<p>Busy days followed the sophomore-freshman +ball. The girls were “getting into line,” as Judy +variously expressed it; “showing their mettle; +and putting on steam for the winter’s work.” +The story of the incendiary had been reported +exaggerated and had gradually died out altogether. +Frances Andrews had returned to college, +more brazenly facetious than ever, breaking +into conversations, loudly interrupting, making +jokes which no one laughed at except Molly and +Judy out of charity. She was a strange girl and +led a lonely life, but she was too much like the +crater of a sleeping volcano, which might shoot +off unexpectedly at any moment, and most of the +girls gave her a wide berth.</p> + +<p>The weather grew cold and crisp. There was +a smell of smoke in the air from burning leaves +and from the chimneys of the faculty homes +wherein wood fires glowed cheerfully.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last Saturday arrived. It was the day of +the excursion to Exmoor, and it was with more +or less anxiety regarding the weather that the +three girls scanned the skies that morning for +signs of rain. But the heavens were a deep and +cloudless blue and the air mildly caressing, +neither too cold nor too warm.</p> + +<p>“It is like the Indian summers we have at +home,” exclaimed Molly, when, an hour later, +they turned their faces toward the village through +which the trolley passed.</p> + +<p>Mabel Hinton, passing them as they started, +had called out:</p> + +<p>“Art off on a picnic?”</p> + +<p>And they had answered:</p> + +<p>“We art.”</p> + +<p>Some other girls had cried:</p> + +<p>“Whither away so early, Oh?”</p> + +<p>And they had cried:</p> + +<p>“To Exmoor! To Exmoor, for now the day +has come at last!” paraphrasing a song Judy was +in the habit of singing.</p> + +<p>Indeed the day seemed so perfect and joyous +that they could hardly keep from singing aloud +instead of just humming when they boarded the +trolley car.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>Through the country they sped swiftly. The +valley unfolded itself before them in all its beauty +and the misty blue hills in the distance seemed +to draw nearer. Over everything there was a +sense of autumn peace which comes when the +world is drowsing off into his deep sleep.</p> + +<p>“Exmoor!” called the conductor at last, and the +three girls stepped off at a charming rustic station. +With a clang of the bell which rang out +harshly in the still air, the car flew on.</p> + +<p>The three girls looked at the empty station. +Then they looked at each other with a kind of +mock consternation, for nothing really mattered.</p> + +<p>“Where is Dodo?” asked Judy, with the smile +of the victor, since she had predicted only a few +moments before that Dodo might by this time +have become so frightened at his boldness that +he would suddenly become extinct like his namesake, +the dodo-bird.</p> + +<p>“Well, if Dodo is really extinct,” said Molly, +“we’ll just take a little walk back through the +fields. Epiménides thought nothing of it. He +expects to walk to-day and meet us at lunch.”</p> + +<p>But Dodo was not extinct that morning, and +they beheld him now running down the steep road +as fast as his heavy boots could carry him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Behold, his spirit has risen from its fossil remains +and he now walks among us in the guise +of a man,” chanted Judy.</p> + +<p>“Don’t make us laugh, Judy, just as the poor +soul arrives without enough breath to apologize,” +said Nance, and the next instant the embarrassed +young man stood before them blushing and stammering +as if he had been caught in the act of +picking a pocket or committing some other slight +crime which required explanation.</p> + +<p>“I’m terribly sorry—have you waited long?—the +schedule was changed—I didn’t know—you +should have come half an hour later—I don’t +mean that—I mean I wasn’t ready—” he broke +off in an agony of embarrassment and the girls +burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be caring,” said Judy. “We’re +here and nothing else really matters.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t have thought the station of a man’s +college could be so deserted,” observed Molly, +looking about the empty place.</p> + +<p>Dodo assured her that plenty of people would +be there in half an hour, when the train arrived; +just then everybody was either in the village on +the other side of the buildings, or down on the +football grounds watching the morning practice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +game. There was to be a real game that afternoon.</p> + +<p>“You see, it’s only a small college,” he went on. +“There are only two hundred and fifty in all. +The standards are so high it’s rather hard to get +in, but we are heavily endowed and can afford to +keep up the standards,” he added proudly.</p> + +<p>They climbed the road to the college almost in +silence and in ten minutes emerged on a level elevation +or table land which commanded a view of +the entire countryside. Here stood the college +buildings, built of red brick, seasoned and mellowed +with time. They were a beautiful and dignified +group of buildings, and there was a decidedly +old world atmosphere about the place and +the campus with splendid elm trees. Molly had +once heard Judith Blount refer to Exmoor as that +“one-horse, old-fashioned little college,” and she +was not prepared for anything so fine and impressive +as this.</p> + +<p>Nor was she prepared for the surprise of Miss +Green, sister of Professor Edwin and Dodo. The +girls had pictured her a middle-aged spinster, +having heard she was older than the Professor +himself, who seemed a thousand to them. And +here, waiting for them, in the living room of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +Chapter House, was a very charming and girlish +young woman with Edwin’s brown eyes and cleft +chin and George’s blonde hair; the ease and +graciousness of one brother and the youthful fairness +of the other. She had come down from New +York the night before especially to meet them, +she said.</p> + +<p>Rather an expensive trip, they thought, for one +day’s pleasure, since it took about seven hours +and meant usually one meal and of course at +night a berth on the sleeper.</p> + +<p>“At first I thought I couldn’t manage it for this +week,” she continued, “but Edwin was so insistent +and no one has ever been known to refuse him +anything he really wanted.”</p> + +<p>Edwin! But why Edwin? Why not the youthful +and blushing Dodo? So Molly wondered, +while they were conducted over the entire college; +the beautiful little Gothic chapel with its stained +glass windows; through the splendid old library +which was much smaller than the one at Wellington, +but much more “atmospheric” as Judy had +remarked; then through the dormitories where +they remained discreetly in the corridors, and +finally back to the Chapter House, in which +George lodged with some thirty schoolmates.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>There on the piazza was Professor Edwin +Green waiting for them. He had made an early +start, he said, and walked the whole distance in +less than three hours. Some other young men +came up and were introduced, and the entire gay +party, Nance shyly sticking closely beside Miss +Green, went off to view the village, which was a +quaint old place well worth visiting, they were +told.</p> + +<p>The train had evidently come in, and crowds +of people were hurrying up the road. There was +a sound of a horn and a coach dashed in sight +filled with students wearing crimson streamers in +their buttonholes.</p> + +<p>“It’s a crowd of Repton fellows come over to +see their team licked,” George explained, “but +look, Edwin, here comes Dickie Blount. I thought +he was in Chicago.”</p> + +<p>“Evidently he isn’t,” said the Professor, his +eyes smiling, his mouth serious. It was Richard +Blount, the hero of the ham bone, and he straightway +attached himself to Molly and declined to +leave her side for the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell me that that delightful, joking, jolly +person is brother to Judith,” whispered Judy in +Molly’s ear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly nodded.</p> + +<p>“There’s no family resemblance, but it’s true, +nevertheless.”</p> + +<p>Motor cars and carriages of all varieties now +began to arrive. The whole countryside had +turned out to see the great game between the +two local college teams, and the Wellington girls +pinned green rosettes in their buttonholes to signify +that their sympathies were all for Exmoor.</p> + +<p>“It’s the most exciting, jolliest time I ever had +in all my life,” cried Molly to Professor Green, +who walked on her other side. “And to think I +have never seen a football game before in all my +life.”</p> + +<p>“I must draw a diagram for you and show you +what some of the plays are, or you will be in a +muddle,” said the Professor, looking at her +gravely, almost, as Molly thought, as if she were +one of his English Literature pupils.</p> + +<p>At lunch, according to the etiquette of the +place, George and his guests were placed at the +senior table. There was no smoking nor loud +talking and the students behaved themselves most +decorously, although George confided to Judy +that ordinarily pandemonium prevailed.</p> + +<p>After lunch they started for the grounds in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +triumphal procession; for our Wellington freshmen +and their chaperone had an escort of at least +four or five young men apiece. Nance looked bewildered +and shy and happy; Judy was never +more sparkling nor prettier, and Molly was in +her gayest, brightest humor.</p> + +<p>They had hardly left the Chapter House behind +them and proceeded in a snake-like procession +across the campus, when a black and prancing, +though rather bony, steed dashed up bearing +a young lady in a faultlessly fitting riding +habit. It was Judith Blount.</p> + +<p>Nobody looked particularly thrilled at Judith’s +appearance, not even Judith’s brother, and Judy +almost exclaimed out loud:</p> + +<p>“Bother! Why couldn’t she stay at home just +once?”</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Cousin Grace?” called Judith +from her perch. “I heard you were going to be +down and I couldn’t resist riding over to see you.”</p> + +<p>“How are you, Judith? I’m so glad to see +you,” answered Cousin Grace in a tone without +much heart to it. “Why didn’t you come sooner? +We’ve just finished lunch.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, I had a sandwich early. I suppose +you are off for the grounds. Go ahead. I’ll<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +get Cousin Edwin to help me tie up this old animal +somewhere. We’ll follow right behind.”</p> + +<p>Molly was almost certain that Cousin Edwin +was about to place this office on the shoulders of +his younger brother, but glancing again at the +flushed and happy face of Dodo at the side of +Judy, the Professor relented and dropped behind +to look after his relation.</p> + +<p>Never had Molly been so wildly excited as she +was over the football game that afternoon. It +was a wonderful picture, the two teams lined up +against each other; crowds of people yelling +themselves hoarse; the battle cry of the Repton +team mingling with the warlike cry of the Exmoor +students. The cheer leaders at the heads +of the cheer sections made the welkin ring continuously. +At last a young man, who seemed to +be a giant in size and strength, dashed like a +wild horse across the Russian steppes straight +up the field with the ball under his arm, and +from the insane behavior of the green men, including +Professor Edwin Green and his fair sister, +Molly became suddenly aware that the game +was over and Exmoor had won.</p> + +<p>The cheering section could yell no more, because +to a man it had lost its voice; but, oh, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +glad burst of song from the Exmoor students +as they leaped into the field and bore the conquering +giant around on their shoulders. And, +oh! the dejection of the men of crimson as they +stalked sadly from the scene of their humiliation.</p> + +<p>At last the whole glorious day was over and +the girls found themselves on the way to the +trolley station. Richard Blount and his cousin, +Miss Green, had hastened on ahead. They were +to take the six o’clock train back to New +York.</p> + +<p>“Cousin Edwin, why can’t you hire a horse in +the village and ride back to Wellington with +me?” asked Judith, when they paused at the +Chapter House for her to mount her black steed.</p> + +<p>“Because I’m engaged to take these young +ladies home by trolley, Judith,” answered the +Professor firmly.</p> + +<p>Judith leaped on her horse without assistance, +gave the poor animal a savage lash with her +whip and dashed across the campus without another +word.</p> + +<p>The ride back at sunset was even more perfect +than the morning trip. The Professor of English +Literature appeared to have been temporarily +changed into a boy. He told them funny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +stories and bits of his own college experiences, +and made them talk, too. Almost before they +knew it, the conductor was calling: “Wellington!”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /> + +<small>SUNDAY MORNING BREAKFAST.</small></h2> + + +<p>It was quite the custom at Wellington for +girls to prepare breakfasts on Sunday morning +in their rooms. There was always the useful +boneless chicken to be creamed in one’s chafing +dish; and in another, eggs to be scrambled with +a lick and a promise, at these impromptu affairs; +and it was a change from the usual codfish balls +of the Sunday house breakfast.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly1pl4" id="molly1pl4"></a> +<img src="images/molly1pl4.jpg" width="400" height="617" alt="“It was quite the custom for girls to prepare breakfast in +their rooms.—Page 152." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">It was quite the custom for girls to prepare breakfast in +their rooms.—<i>Page 152.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>On this particular Sunday morning, Judy was +very busy; for the breakfast party was of her +giving, in Molly’s and Nance’s room; her own +“singleton” being too small. She was also very +angry in her tempestuous and unrestrained way, +and having emptied the vials of her wrath on +Molly’s head, she was angrier with herself for +giving away to temper.</p> + +<p>Although it was Judy’s party, Molly, as +usual kind-hearted and grandly hospitable, had +invited Frances Andrews. Then she had gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +and confessed her sins to Judy, who flared up +and said things she hadn’t intended, and Molly +had wept a little and owned that she was entirely +at fault. But what could be done? Frances was +invited and had accepted. To atone for her sins, +poor Molly had made popovers as a surprise and +arranged to bake them in Mrs. Murphy’s oven. +But the hostess being gloomy, the company was +gloomy, since the one is apt to reflect the humor +of the other. However, as the coffee began to +send forth its cheerful aroma from Judy’s Russian +samovar, discord took wings and harmony +reigned. It was a very comfortable and sociable +party. Most of the girls wore their kimonos, +it being a time for rest and relaxation; but when +Frances Andrews swept into the room in a long +lavender silk <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">peignoir</i> trimmed with frills of +lace, all cotton crepe Japanese dressing gowns +faded into insignificance.</p> + +<p>“There is no doubt that college girls are a +hungry lot,” remarked Margaret Wakefield, settling +herself comfortably to dispose of food and +conversation and arouse argument, a thing she +deeply enjoyed.</p> + +<p>“So much brain work requires nourishment,” +observed Mabel Hinton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There is not much brain nourishment at +Queen’s,” put in Frances Andrews. “I’ve been +living on raw eggs and sweet chocolate for the +last week. The table has run down frightfully.”</p> + +<p>Sallie Marks was a loyal Queen’s girl, and resented +this slur on the table of the establishment +which was sheltering her now for the third year.</p> + +<p>“The food here is quite as good as it is at any +of the other houses,” she said coldly to the unfortunate +Frances, who really had not intended +to give offence.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, but I don’t agree with you,” replied +Frances, “and I have a right to my own +opinion, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>Judy gave Molly a triumphant glance, as much +as to say, “You see what you have done.”</p> + +<p>Everybody looked a little uncomfortable, and +Margaret Wakefield, equal to every occasion, +launched into a learned discussion on how many +ounces of food the normal person requires a day.</p> + +<p>Once more the talk flowed on smoothly. But +where Frances was, it would seem there were +always hidden reefs which wrecked every subject, +no matter how innocent, the moment it was +launched.</p> + +<p>“Molly, I can trade compliments with you,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +put in Jessie Lynch, taking not the slightest notice +of her roommate’s discourse. “It’s one of +those very indirect, three-times-removed compliments, +but you’ll be amused by it.”</p> + +<p>“Really,” said Molly, “do tell me what it is before +I burst with curiosity.”</p> + +<p>“I said ‘trade,’” laughed Jessie, who liked a +compliment herself extremely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course,” replied Molly. “I have any +number I can give you in exchange. How do +you care for this one? Mary Stewart thinks +you are very attractive.”</p> + +<p>“Does she, really? That’s nice of her,” exclaimed +Jessie, blushing with pleasure as if she +hadn’t been told the same thing dozens of times +before. “I think she’s fine; not exactly pretty, +you know, but fine.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you don’t know how her father +made his money?” broke in Frances.</p> + +<p>There was a silence, and Molly, feeling that +she was about to be mortified again by something +disagreeable, cried hastily:</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, I forgot the surprise. Do wait a +moment,” and dashed from the room.</p> + +<p>While she was gone, Nance and Judy began +filling up the intervals with odd bits of conversation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +helped out by the other girls, and Frances +Andrews did not have another opportunity to +put in her oar. Suddenly she rose and swept to +the door.</p> + +<p>“You would none of you feel interested to +know, I suppose, that Mary Stewart’s father +started life as a bootblack——”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I’m starting life as,” cried +Molly, who now appeared carrying a large tray +covered with a napkin. “I am the official bootblack +of Queen’s, and I make sometimes one-fifty +a week at it. I hope I’ll do as well as Mr. +Stewart in the business. Have a popover?”</p> + +<p>She unfolded the napkin and behold a pile of +golden muffins steaming hot. There were wild +cries of joy from the kimonoed company.</p> + +<p>“And now, Jessie, I’ll take my second-hand, +roundabout compliment——” she began, when +Judy interrupted her.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you have a popover, Miss Andrews?” +she asked in a cold, exasperated tone.</p> + +<p>“Thanks; I eat the European breakfast usually—coffee +and roll——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ve been there,” answered Judy.</p> + +<p>“I’ll say good morning. I’ve enjoyed your little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +party immensely,” and Frances marched out +of the room and banged the door.</p> + +<p>“I should think you would have learned a lesson +by this time, Molly Brown,” cried Judy hotly. +“There is always a row whenever that girl is +around. She can’t be nice, and there is no use +trying to make her over.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” said Molly penitently. “I wish I +could understand why she behaves that way +when she knows it’s going to take away what +few friends she has.”</p> + +<p>“I think I can tell you,” put in Mabel Hinton. +“Nobody likes her, and nobody expects any good +of her. If you are constantly on the lookout for +bad traits, they are sure to appear. It’s almost +a natural law. Everybody was expecting this +to-day, and so it happened, of course. If we had +been cordial and sweet to her, she never would +have said that about Mary Stewart or the food +at Queen’s, either.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me, are we listening to a sermon,” +broke in Judy flippantly.</p> + +<p>But, in spite of Judy’s interruption, Mabel’s +speech made an impression on the girls, some of +whom felt a little ashamed of their attitude toward +Frances Andrews.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did you ever see a dog that had been kicked +all its life?” went on Mabel; “how it snarls and +bites and snaps at anybody who tries to pet it? +Well, Frances is just a poor kicked dog. She’s +done something she ought not to have done, and +she’s been kicked out for it, and she’s so sore and +unhappy, she snarls at everybody who comes +near her.”</p> + +<p>“Mabel, you’re a brick!” exclaimed Sallie +Marks. “I started the fight this morning and +I’m ashamed of it. I’m going to make a resolution +to be nice to that poor girl hereafter, no +matter how horrid she is. It will be an interesting +experiment, if for no other reason.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s form a society,” put in Molly, “to reinstate +Frances Andrews, and the way to do it +will be to be as nice as we can to her and to say +nice things about her to the other girls.”</p> + +<p>“Good work!” cried Margaret Wakefield, +scenting another opportunity to draw up a constitution, +by-laws and resolutions. “We will call +a first meeting right now, and elect officers. I +move that Molly be made chairman of the meeting.”</p> + +<p>“I second the motion,” said Sallie heartily. +“All in favor say ‘aye.’”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a chorus of laughing “ayes” and a +society was actually established that morning, +Molly, as founder, being elected President. It +consisted of eight members, all freshmen, except +the good-natured Sallie Marks, who condescended, +although a junior, to join.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we vote on a name now,” continued +Margaret who wished to leave nothing undone +in creating the club. “Each member has a right +to suggest two names, votes to be taken afterward.”</p> + +<p>It was all very business-like, owing to Margaret’s +experienced methods, but the girls enjoyed +it and felt quite important. As a matter +of fact, it was the first society to be established +that year in the freshman class, and it developed +afterward into a very important organization.</p> + +<p>Among the various names suggested were +“The Optimists,” “The Bluebirds,” “The Glad +Hands,” mentioned by Sallie Marks, and “The +Happy Hearts.”</p> + +<p>“They are all too sentimental,” said the astute +Margaret, looking them over. “There’ll be so +many croaks about us if we choose one of these +names that we’ll be crushed with ridicule. How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +about these initials—‘G.F.’ What do they stand +for?”</p> + +<p>“Gold Fishes,” replied Mabel Hinton promptly. +The others laughed, but the name pleased them, +nevertheless. “You see,” went on Mabel, “a +gold fish always radiates a cheerful glow no matter +where he is. He is the most amiable, contented +little optimist in the animal kingdom, and +he swims just as happily in a finger bowl as he +does in a fish pond. He was evidently created +to cheer up the fish tribe and I’m sure he must +succeed in doing it.”</p> + +<p>The explanation was received with applause, +and when the votes were taken, “G.F.” was +chosen without a dissenting voice.</p> + +<p>It was decided that the club was to meet once +a week, it’s object, to be, in a way, the promotion +of kindliness, especially toward such people +as Frances Andrews, who were friendless.</p> + +<p>“We’ll be something like the Misericordia Society +in Italy,” observed Judy, “only, instead of +looking after wounded and hurt people, we’ll +look after wounded and hurt feelings.”</p> + +<p>It was further moved, seconded and the motion +carried that the society should be a secret +one; that reports should be read each week by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +members who had anything to report; and, by +way of infusing a little sociability into the society, +it was to give an entertainment, something +unique in the annals of Wellington; subject to +be thought of later.</p> + +<p>It was noon by the time the first meeting of +the G. F. Society was ready to disband. But the +girls had really enjoyed it. In the first place, +there was an important feeling about being an +initial member of a club which had such a beneficial +object, and was to be so delightfully secretive. +There was, in fact, a good deal of knight +errantry in the purpose of the G. F.’s, who felt +not a little like Amazonian cavaliers looking for +adventure on the highway.</p> + +<p>“Really, you know,” observed Jessie, “we +should be called ‘The Friends of the Wallflowers,’ +like some men at home, who made up their +minds one New Year’s night at a ball to give a +poor cross-eyed, ugly girl who never had partners +the time of her life, just once.”</p> + +<p>“Did they do it?” asked Nance, who imagined +that she was a wallflower, and was always conscious +when the name was mentioned.</p> + +<p>“They certainly did,” answered Jessie, “and +when I saw the girl afterward in the dressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +room, she said to me, ‘Oh, Jessie, wasn’t it +heaven?’ She cried a little. I was ashamed.”</p> + +<p>“By the way, Jessie, I never got my compliment,” +said Molly. “Pay it to me this instant, +or I shall be thinking I haven’t had a ‘square +deal.’”</p> + +<p>“Well, here it is,” answered Jessie. “It has +been passed along considerably, but it’s all the +more valuable for taking such a roundabout +route to get to you. I’ll warn you beforehand +that you will probably have an electric shock +when you hear it. You know I have some +cousins who live up in New York. One of them +writes to me——”</p> + +<p>“Girl or man?” demanded Judy.</p> + +<p>“Man,” answered Jessie, blushing.</p> + +<p>There was a laugh at this, because Jessie’s +beaux were numerous.</p> + +<p>“His best friend,” she continued, “has a sister, +and that sister—do you follow—is an intimate +friend——”</p> + +<p>“‘An intimate friend of an intimate friend,’” +one of the girls interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Jessie, “it’s obscure, but perfectly +logical. My cousin’s intimate friend’s sister has +an intimate friend—Miss Green——”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, ho!” cried Judy. “Now we are getting +down to rock bottom.”</p> + +<p>“And Miss Green told her intimate friend who +told my cousin’s intimate friend’s sister—it’s a +little involved, but I think I have it straight—who +told her brother who told my cousin who +wrote it to me.”</p> + +<p>“But what did he write,” they demanded in a +chorus.</p> + +<p>“That one of Miss Green’s brothers was +crushed on a charming red-headed girl from +Kentucky.”</p> + +<p>Molly’s face turned crimson.</p> + +<p>“But Dodo is crushed on Judy,” she laughed.</p> + +<p>“It may be,” said Jessie. “Rumors are most +generally twisted.”</p> + +<p>The first meeting of the G. F.’s now disbanded +and the members scattered to dress for the early +Sunday dinner. They all attended Vespers that +afternoon, and in the quiet hour of the impressive +service more than one pondered seriously +upon the conversation of the morning and the +purpose of the new club.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> + +<small>TRICKERY.</small></h2> + + +<p>It was several days before the G. F.’s had an +opportunity to practise any of their new resolutions +on Frances Andrews. The eccentric girl +was in the habit of skipping meals and eating at +off hours at a little restaurant in the village, or +taking ice cream sundaes in the drug store.</p> + +<p>At last, however, she did appear at supper in +a beautiful dinner dress of lavender crêpe de +chine with an immense bunch of violets pinned +at her belt. She looked very handsome and the +girls could not refrain from giving her covert +glances of admiration as she took her seat stonily +at the table.</p> + +<p>It was the impetuous, precipitate Judy who +took the lead in the promotion of kindliness and +her premature act came near to cutting down the +new club in its budding infancy.</p> + +<p>“You must be going to a party,” she began, +flashing one of her ingratiating smiles at +Frances.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Frances looked at her with an icy stare.</p> + +<p>“I—I mean,” stammered Judy, “you are wearing +such an exquisite dress. It’s too fine for ordinary +occasions like this.”</p> + +<p>Frances rose.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Markham,” she said to the matron of +Queen’s, “if I can’t eat here without having my +clothes sneered at, I shall be obliged to have my +meals carried to my room hereafter.”</p> + +<p>Then she marched out of the dining room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Markham looked greatly embarrassed +and nobody spoke for some time.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” said Judy at last in a low +voice to Molly, “what’s to be done now?”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you write her a little note,” replied +Molly, “and tell her that you hadn’t meant +to hurt her feelings and had honestly admired +her dress.”</p> + +<p>“Apologize!” exclaimed Judy, her proud spirit +recoiling at the ignoble thought. “I simply +couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>But since her attack on Molly, Judy had been +very much ashamed of herself, and she was now +taking what she called “self-control in broken +doses,” like the calomel treatment; that night +she actually wrote a note to Frances and shoved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +it under the door. In answer to this abject missive +she received one line, written with purple +ink on highly scented heavy note paper:</p> + +<div class="smallnote"><p>“Dear Miss Kean,” it ran, “I accept your +apology.</p> + +<p><span class="rght2">“Yours sincerely,</span><br /> +<span class="rght1">“Frances Le Grand Andrews.”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>“Le Grand, that’s a good name for her,” +laughed Judy, sniffing at the perfumed paper +with some disgust.</p> + +<p>But she wrote an elaborate report regarding +the incident and read it aloud to the assembled +G. F.’s at their second meeting.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Sallie Marks had her innings +with the redoubtable Frances, and retreated, +wearing the sad and martyred smile of one who +is determined not to resent an insult. One by +one the G.F.’s took occasion to be polite and kind +to the scornful, suspicious Frances. Her malicious +speeches were ignored and her vulgarities—and +she had many of them—passed lightly +over. Little by little she arrived at the conclusion +that refinement did not mean priggishness +and that vulgarity was not humor. Of course +the change came very gradually. Not infrequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +after a sophomore snub, the whipped dog +snarled savagely; or she would brazenly try to +shock the supper table with a coarse, slangy +speech. But with the persistent friendliness of +the Queen’s girls, the fires in her nature began +to die down and the intervals between flare-ups +grew longer each day.</p> + +<p>Frances Andrews was the first “subject” of +the G.F.’s, and they were as interested in her +regeneration as a group of learned doctors in +the recovery of a dangerously ill patient.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the busy college life hummed +on and Molly felt her head swimming sometimes +with its variety and fullness. What with +coaching Judy, blacking boots, making certain +delicious sweetmeats called “cloudbursts,”—the +recipe of which was her own secret,—which +sold like hot cakes; keeping up the social end +and the study end, Molly was beginning to feel +tired. A wanness began to show in the dark +shadows under her eyes and the pinched look +about her lips even as early as the eventful evening +when she posed for the senior living picture +show.</p> + +<p>“This child needs some make-up,” the august +senior president had exclaimed. “Where’s the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +rouge and who’s got my rabbit’s foot? No, +burned cork makes too broad a line. Give me +one of the lighter colored eyebrow pencils. You +mustn’t lose your color, little girl,” she said, +dabbing a spot of red on each of Molly’s pale +cheeks. “Your roses are one of your chief attractions.”</p> + +<p>A great many students and some of the faculty +had bought tickets for this notable occasion, +and the gymnasium was well filled before +the curtain was drawn back from a gigantic +gold frame disclosing Mary Stewart as Joan of +Arc in the picture by Bastien Le Page, which +hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in +New York. There was no attempt to reproduce +the atmospheric visions of the angel and the +knight in armor, only the poor peasant girl +standing in the cabbage patch, her face transfigured +with inspiration. When Molly saw +Mary Stewart pose in this picture at the dress +rehearsal, she could not help recalling the story +of the bootblack father.</p> + +<p>“She has a wonderful face, and I call it beautiful, +if other people don’t,” she said to herself.</p> + +<p>As for our little freshman, so dazed and heavy +was she with fatigue, the night of the entertainment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +that she never knew she had created a sensation, +first as Botticelli’s “Flora,” barefooted and +wearing a Greek dress constructed of cheesecloth, +and then as “Mrs. Hamilton,” in the blue +crepe with a gauzy fichu around her neck.</p> + +<p>After the exhibition, when all the actors were +endeavoring to collect their belongings in the +confusion of the green room, Sallie Marks came +running behind the scenes.</p> + +<p>“Prexy has specially requested you to repeat +the Flora picture,” she announced, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Is Prexy here?” they demanded, with much +excitement.</p> + +<p>“She is so,” answered Sallie. “She’s up in +the balcony with Professor Green and Miss +Pomeroy.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you think, we’ve been performing +before ‘Queen Victoria and other members +of the royal family,’ like P. T. Barnum, and +never knew a thing about it,” said a funny snub-nosed +senior. “‘Daily demonstrations by the +delighted multitude almost taking the form of +ovations,’” she proceeded.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk so much, Lulu, and help us, for +Heaven’s sake! Where’s Molly Brown of Kentucky?” +called the distracted President.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly came forth at the summons. Overcome +by an extreme fatigue, she had been sitting on a +bench in a remote corner of the room behind +some stage property.</p> + +<p>“Here, little one, take off your shoes and stockings, +and get into your Flora costume, quick, by +order of Prexy.”</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, Molly stood poised on the +tips of her toes in the gold frame. The lights +went down, the bell rang, and the curtains were +parted by two freshmen appointed for this duty. +For one brief fleeting glance the audience saw +the immortal Flora floating on thin air apparently, +and then the entire gymnasium was in total +darkness.</p> + +<p>A wave of conversation and giggling filled the +void of blackness, while on the stage the seniors +were rushing around, falling over each other and +calling for matches.</p> + +<p>“Who’s light manager?”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Lulu?”</p> + +<p>“Lulu! Lulu!”</p> + +<p>“Where’s the switch?”</p> + +<p>“Lulu’s asleep at the switch,” sang a chorus of +juniors from the audience.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’m not,” called Lulu. “I’m here on the job, +but the switch doesn’t work.”</p> + +<p>“Telephone to the engineer.”</p> + +<p>“Light the gas somebody.”</p> + +<p>But there were no matches, and the only man +in the house was in the balcony. However, he +managed to grope his way to the steps leading +to the platform, where he suddenly struck a +match, to the wild joy of the audience. Choruses +from various quarters had been calling:</p> + +<p>“Don’t blow out the gas!”</p> + +<p>“Keep it dark!”</p> + +<p>And one girl created a laugh by announcing:</p> + +<p>“The present picture represents a ‘Nocturne’ +by Whistler.”</p> + +<p>Then the janitor began lighting gas jets along +the wall and finally a lonesome gas jet on the +stage faintly illumined the scene of confusion.</p> + +<p>The gigantic gilt frame outlined a dark picture +of hurrying forms, and huddled in the foreground +lay a limp white object, for Botticelli’s +“Flora” had fainted away.</p> + +<p>The confusion increased. The President +joined the excited seniors and presently the doctor +appeared, fetched by the Professor of English +Literature. “Flora” was lifted onto a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +couch; her own gray cape thrown over her, and +opening her eyes in a few minutes, she became +Molly Brown of Kentucky. She gazed confusedly +at the faces hovering over her in the half +light; the doctor at one side, the <a name="President" id="President"></a>President at the +other; Mary Stewart and Professor Green standing +at the foot and a crowd of seniors like a mob +in the background.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Molly sat up. She brushed her auburn +hair from her face and pointed vaguely toward +the hall:</p> + +<p>“I saw her when she——” she began. Her +eye caught Professor Green’s, and she fell back +on the couch.</p> + +<p>“You saw what, my child?” asked the President +kindly.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I was just dreaming,” answered +Molly, her Southern accent more marked than +ever before.</p> + +<p>The President of the senior class now hurried +up to the President of Wellington University.</p> + +<p>“Miss Walker,” she exclaimed, her voice trembling +with indignation, “we have just found out, +or, rather, the engineer has discovered, that some +one has cut the electric wires. It was a clean cut, +right through. I do think it was an outrage.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +She was almost sobbing in her righteous anger.</p> + +<p>The President’s face looked very grave.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure of this?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“It’s true, ma’am,” put in the engineer, who +had followed close on the heels of the senior.</p> + +<p>Without a word, President Walker rose and +walked to the centre of the platform. With much +subdued merriment the students were leaving the +gymnasium in a body. Lifting a small chair +standing near, she rapped with it on the floor for +order. Instantly, every student faced the platform, +and those who had not reached the aisles +sat down.</p> + +<p>“Young ladies,” began the President in her +calm, cultivated tones that could strike terror to +the heart of any erring student, “I wish to speak +a word with you before you leave the gymnasium +to-night. Probably most of you are aware by +this time that the accident to the electric lighting +was really not an accident at all, but the result of +a deliberate act by some one in this room. Of +course, I realize, that in so large a body of students +as we have at Wellington University there +must, of necessity, be some black sheep. These +we endeavor, by every effort, to regenerate and +by mid-years it is usually not a difficult matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +to discover those who are in earnest and those +who consider Wellington College merely a place +of amusement. Those who do consider it as +such, naturally, do not—er—remain with us +after mid-years.”</p> + +<p>To Molly, sitting on the platform, and to other +trembling freshmen in the audience, the President +seemed for the moment like a great and +stern judge, who had appointed mid-years as the +time for a general execution of criminals.</p> + +<p>“I consider,” went on the speaker in slow and +even tones, “idleness a most unfortunate quality, +and I am prepared to combat it and to convince +any of my girls who show that tendency that +good hard work and only good hard work will +bring success. A great many girls come here +preferring idleness and learn to repent it—before +mid-years.”</p> + +<p>A wave of subdued laughter swept over the +audience.</p> + +<p>“But,” said the President, her voice growing +louder and sterner, “young ladies, I am not prepared +to combat chicanery and trickery by anything +except the most severe measures, and if +there is one among you who thinks and believes +she can commit such despicable follies as that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +which has been done to-night, and escape—I +would say to her that she is mistaken. I shall +not endure such treachery. It shall be rooted +out. For the honor and the illustrious name of +this institution, I now ask each one of you to +help me, and if there is one among you who +knows the culprit and does not report it to me +at once, I shall hold that girl as responsible as +the real culprit. You may go now, and think +well over what I have said.”</p> + +<p>The President retired and the students filed +soberly and quietly from the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel now, dear?” asked President +Walker, leaning over Molly and taking her +hand.</p> + +<p>“Much better, thank you,” answered Molly, +timidly.</p> + +<p>“Could you hear what I was saying to the +girls?” continued the President, looking at her +closely.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” faltered Molly.</p> + +<p>“Think over it, then. And you had better +stay in bed a few days until you feel better. +Have you prescribed for her, doctor?”</p> + +<p>The doctor nodded. He was a bluff, kindly +Scotchman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> + +<p>“A little anæmic and tired out. A good tonic +and more sleep will put her to rights.”</p> + +<p>Mary Stewart had telephoned for a carriage +to take Molly home, and Judy, filled with passionate +devotion when anything was the matter, +hurried ahead to turn down the bed, lay out +gown and wrapper and make a cup of bouillon +out of hot water and a beef juice capsule; and +finally assist her beloved friend—whom she occasionally +chastened—to remove her clothes and +get into bed.</p> + +<p>“I may not have many chances to wait on you, +Molly, darling,” she exclaimed, when Molly protested +at so much devotion. “I may not have a +chance after mid-years.”</p> + +<p>If she had mentioned death itself, she could +not have used a more tragic tone.</p> + +<p>“Judy,” cried Molly, slipping her arms around +her friend’s neck, “I’m not going to let you go at +mid-years if I have to study for two.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> + +<small>AN INSPIRATION.</small></h2> + + +<p>“This is like having a bedroom <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">salon</i>,” exclaimed +Molly with a hospitable smile to some +dozen guests who adorned the divans and easy +chairs, the floor and window sills of her room.</p> + +<p>Surely there was nothing Molly liked better +than to entertain, and when she had callers, +she always entertained them with refreshments +of some kind. Often it had to be crackers and +sweet chocolate, and she had even been reduced +to tea. But usually her family kept her supplied +with good things and her larder was generally +well stocked.</p> + +<p>She lay in bed, propped up with pillows, and +scattered about the bed were text-books and +papers.</p> + +<p>“You’ve been studying again, you naughty +child,” exclaimed Mary Stewart, shaking her +finger. “Didn’t Dr. McLean tell you to go easy +for the next week?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Go easy, indeed,” laughed Molly. “You +might as well tell a trapeze actor to do the giant-swing +and hold on tight at the same time. But +it’s worth losing a few days to find out what +loving friends I have. Your pink roses are the +loveliest of all,” she added, squeezing her friend’s +hand.</p> + +<p>“Tell us exactly who sent you each bunch?” +demanded Jessie, passing a box of ginger-snaps, +while Judy performed miracles with a tea ball, +a small kettle and a varied assortment of cups +and saucers. “I have a right to ask you,” continued +Jessica, “because you asked the same +question of me last Tuesday when two boxes +came.”</p> + +<p>“No suitor sent me any of these, Mistress Jessica,” +answered Molly, “because I haven’t any. +Miss Stewart sent the pink ones, and the President +of the senior class sent the red ones. Judy +brought me the double violets and Nance the +lilies of the valley, bless them both, and another +senior the pot of pansies. The seniors have certainly +been sweet and lovely.”</p> + +<p>“There’s one you haven’t accounted for,” interrupted +Jessie.</p> + +<p>“The violets?” asked Molly, blushing slightly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, ho!” cried Jessie in her high, musical +voice, “trying to crawl, were you? You can’t deceive +old Grandmamma Sharp-eyes. Honor +bright, who sent the violets?”</p> + +<p>“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I suspected +Frances Andrews, but when I thanked +her for them, she looked horribly embarrassed +and said she hadn’t sent them. I was afraid she +would go down and get some after my break, but +thank goodness, she had the good taste not to.”</p> + +<p>“You mean to say they were anonymous?” demanded +Jessie.</p> + +<p>“I mean to say that thing, but I suppose some +of the seniors who preferred to remain unknown +sent them.”</p> + +<p>“It’s just possible,” put in Mary, and the subject +was dropped.</p> + +<p>“Let’s talk about the only thing worth talking +about just now,” broke in Judy. “The Flopping +of Flora; or, Who Cut the Wires?”</p> + +<p>“Why talk about it?” said Molly. “You could +never reach any conclusion, and guessing doesn’t +help.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, just as a matter of interest,” replied +Judy. “For instance, if we were detectives and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +put on the case, how would we go about finding +the criminal?”</p> + +<p>“I should look for a silly mischief-maker,” +said Mary Stewart. “Some foolish girl who +wanted to do a clever thing. Freshmen at boys’ +colleges are often like that.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think it was a freshman, do you, +Miss Stewart?” cried Mabel Hinton, turning +her round spectacles on Mary like a large, serious +owl.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, indeed. I was only joking. I haven’t +the remotest notion who it is.”</p> + +<p>“If I were a detective on the case,” said Mabel +Hinton, “I should look for a junior who was +jealous of the seniors. Some one who had a +grudge, perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“If I were a detective,” announced Margaret +Wakefield, in her most judicial manner, “I should +look for some one who had a grudge against +Molly.”</p> + +<p>“Of course; I never thought of that. It did +happen just as Molly was about to give the encore, +didn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It did,” answered Margaret.</p> + +<p>The girls had all stopped chattering in duets +and trios to listen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Has any one in the world the heart to have +a grudge against you, you sweet child?” exclaimed +Mary Stewart, placing her rather large, +strong hand over Molly’s.</p> + +<p>The young freshman looked uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” she said, smiling faintly. “I +never meant to give offence to any one.”</p> + +<p>Pretty soon the company dispersed and Molly +was left alone with her two best friends.</p> + +<p>“Judy,” she said, “will you please settle down +to work this instant? You know you have to +write your theme and get it in by to-morrow +noon, and you haven’t touched it so far.”</p> + +<p>Nance was already deep in her English. +Molly turned her face to the wall and sighed.</p> + +<p>“I can’t do it,” she whispered to herself; “I +simply cannot do it.” But what she referred to +only she herself knew.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Judy chewed the end of her +pencil and looked absently at her friend’s back. +Presently she gave the pad on her lap an impatient +toss in one direction and the pencil in another, +and flung herself on the foot of Molly’s +couch.</p> + +<p>“Don’t scold me, Molly. I never compose, except +under inspiration, and inspiration doesn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +seem to be on very good terms with me just now. +She hasn’t visited me in an age.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! You know perfectly well you can +write that theme if you set your mind to it, Judy +Kean. You are just too lazy. You haven’t even +chosen a subject, I’ll wager anything.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Judy sadly.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you write a short story? You +have plenty of material with all your travel——”</p> + +<p>“I know what I’ll write,” Judy interrupted her +excitedly, “The Motives of Crime.”</p> + +<p>“How absurd,” objected Molly. “Besides, +don’t you think that’s a little personal just now, +when the whole school is talking about the wire-cutter?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. We are all trying to run down +the criminal, anyhow. I shall take the five great +motives which lead to crime: anger, jealousy, +hatred, envy and greed. It will make an interesting +discourse. You’ll see if it doesn’t.”</p> + +<p>“The idea of your writing on such a subject,” +laughed Molly. “You’re not a criminal lawyer +or a prosecuting attorney.”</p> + +<p>“I admit it,” answered Judy, “and I suppose +Lawyer Margaret Wakefield ought to be the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +one to handle the subject. But, nevertheless, I +am fired with inspiration, and I intend to write +it myself. I shall not see you again until the +deed is done, if it takes all night. By the way, +lend me some coffee, will you? I’m all out, and +I always make some on the samovar for keeping-awake +purposes when I’m going to work at +night.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, +Judy,” sighed Molly, as the incorrigible girl +sailed out of the room, a jar of coffee under one +arm and her writing pad under the other.</p> + +<p>At first she wrote intermittently, rumpling up +her hair with both hands and chewing her pencil +savagely; but gradually her thoughts took form +and the pencil moved steadily along, almost like +“spirit-writing” it seemed to her, until the essay +was done. It was half-past three o’clock and +rain and hail beat a dismal tattoo on her window +pane. She had not even noticed the storm, having +hung a bed quilt over her window and tacked +a dressing gown across the transom to conceal +the light of the student’s lamp from the watchful +matron. Putting out her light and removing +all signs of disobedience, she now cheerfully +went to bed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Motives for crime,” she chuckled to herself. +“I suppose I’m committing a small crime for disobeying +the ten-o’clock rule, and my motive is +to hand in a theme on time to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>The next morning when Judy read over her +night’s work, she enjoyed it very much. “It’s +really quite interesting,” she said to herself. “I +really don’t see how I ever did it.”</p> + +<p>She delivered the essay at Miss Pomeroy’s office +and felt vastly proud when she laid it on the +table near the desk. Her own cleverness told +her that she had done a good thing.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe Wordsworth ever enjoyed +his own works more than I do mine,” she observed, +as she strolled across the campus. “And +because I’ve been <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon enfant</i>, I shall now take a +rest and go forth in search of amusement.” She +turned her face toward the village, where a kind +of Oriental bazaar was being held by some +Syrians. It would be fun, she thought, to look +over their bangles and slippers and bead necklaces.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Miss Pomeroy was engaged +in reading over Judy’s theme, which, having +been handed in last, had come to her notice first. +Such is the luck of the procrastinator.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>She smiled when she saw the title, but the +theme interested her greatly, and presently she +tucked it into her long reticule, familiar to every +Wellington girl, and hastened over to the President’s +house.</p> + +<p>“Emma,” she said (the two women were old +college mates, and were Emma and Louise in +private), “I think this might interest you. It’s +a theme by one of my freshman girls. A strange +subject for a girl of seventeen, but she’s quite a +remarkable person, if she would only apply herself. +Somehow, it seems, whether consciously +or unconsciously, to bear on what has been occupying +us all so much since last Friday.”</p> + +<p>The President put on her glasses and began +to read Judy’s theme. Every now and then she +gave a low, amused chuckle.</p> + +<p>“The child writes like Marie Corelli,” she exclaimed, +laughing. “And yet it is clever and it +does suggest——” she paused and frowned. “I +wonder if she could and doesn’t dare tell?” she +added slowly.</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” echoed Miss Pomeroy.</p> + +<p>“Is she one of the Queen’s Cottage girls? +They appear to be rather a remarkable lot this +year.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Some of them are very bright,” said Miss +Pomeroy.</p> + +<p>“Louise,” said the President suddenly, +“Frances Andrews is one of the girls at that +house, is she not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded the other, with a queer look on +her face.</p> + +<p>“She’s clever,” said the President. “She’s +deep, Emma. It is impossible to make any definite +statement about her. One must go very +slowly in these things. But after what happened +last year, you know——”</p> + +<p>She paused. Even with her most intimate +friend she disliked to discuss certain secrets of +the institution openly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Pomeroy, “she is either very +deep or entirely innocent.”</p> + +<p>“Some one is guilty,” sighed the President. “I +do wish I knew who it was.”</p> + +<p>Judy’s theme not only received especial mention +by Miss Pomeroy, but it was read aloud to the +entire class and was later published in the college +paper, <cite>The Commune</cite>, to Judy’s everlasting +joy and glory. She was congratulated about it +on all sides and her heart was swollen with pride.</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll take to writing in dead earnest,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +she said to Molly, “because I have the happy faculty +of writing on subjects I don’t know anything +about, and no one knows the difference.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you’d take to doing anything in dead +earnest,” Molly replied, giving her friend a little +impatient shake.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br /> + +<small>PLANNING AND WISHING.</small></h2> + + +<p>“Mrs. Anna Oldham, the famous suffragette, +will speak in the gymnasium on Saturday afternoon, +at four o’clock, on ‘Woman’s Suffrage.’ +All those interested in this subject are invited to +be present.”</p> + +<p>Molly and Judy, with a crowd of friends, on +the way from one classroom to another one busy +Friday had paused in front of the bulletin board +in the main corridor.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Anna Oldham?” they repeated, trying +to remember where they had heard the name before.</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy,” whispered Molly, “that must be +Nance’s mother. Do you—do you suppose Nance +knows?”</p> + +<p>“If she does, she has never mentioned it. You +know she never tells anything. She’s a perfect +clam. But this, somehow, is different.”</p> + +<p>Both girls thought of their own mothers immediately.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +Surely they would have shouted aloud +such news as Nance had.</p> + +<p>“Shall we mention it to her, or do you think +we’d better wait and let her introduce the subject?” +asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Surely she corresponds with her own +mother,” exclaimed Judy without answering +Molly’s question.</p> + +<p>“Her father writes to her about once a week, +I know; but I don’t think she hears very often +from Mrs. Oldham. You see, her mother’s away +most of the time lecturing.”</p> + +<p>“Lecturing—fiddlesticks!” cried Judy indignantly. +“What kind of a mother is she, I’d like +to know? I’ll bet you anything Nance doesn’t +know at all she’s going to be here. I think we +ought to tell her, Molly.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Nance,” answered Molly. “I don’t know +which would mortify her most: to know or not +to know. Suppose we find out in some tactful +roundabout way whether she knows, and then +I’ll offer to go in with you Saturday night and +give her mother my bed.”</p> + +<p>Judy cordially consented to this arrangement, +having a three-quarter bed in her small room, although +secretly she was not fond of sharing it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +and preferred both her bed and her room to herself.</p> + +<p>It was not until much later in the day that +they saw Nance, who appeared to be radiantly +and buoyantly happy. Her usually quiet face +was aglow with a soft light, and as she passed +her two friends she waved a letter at them +gayly.</p> + +<p>“You see, she knows and she is delighted,” exclaimed +Judy. “Just as we would be. Oh, +Molly, wait until you see my mother, if you want +to meet a thing of beauty and a joy forever. +You’d think I was her mother instead of her being +mine, she is so little and sweet and dainty.”</p> + +<p>Molly laughed.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t she coming up soon? I’d dearly love +to meet her.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid not. You know papa is always +flying off on trips and mamma goes with him +everywhere. I used to, too, before I decided to +be educated. It was awfully exciting. We often +got ready on a day’s notice to go thousands of +miles, to San Francisco or Alaska or Mexico, +anywhere. Papa is exactly like me, or, rather, +I am exactly like him, only he is a hundred times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +better looking and more fascinating and charming +than I can ever hope to be.”</p> + +<p>“You funny child,” exclaimed Molly; “how do +you know you are not all those things right +now?”</p> + +<p>“I know I’m not,” sighed Judy. “Papa is +brilliant, and not a bit lazy. He works all the +time.”</p> + +<p>“So would you if you only wanted to. You +only choose to be lazy. If I had your mind and +opportunities there is no end to what I would +do.”</p> + +<p>Judy looked at her in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Why, Molly, do you think I have any mind?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“One of the best in the freshman class,” answered +her friend. “But look, here are some +letters!”</p> + +<p>She paused in the hall of Queen’s Cottage to +look over a pile of mail which had been brought +that afternoon.</p> + +<p>There were several letters for the girls; Judy’s +bi-weeklies from both her parents, who wrote to +her assiduously, and Molly’s numerous home +epistles from her sisters and mother. But there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +were two, one for each of the girls, with the +Exmoor postmark on them.</p> + +<p>Molly opened hers first.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Judy,” she exclaimed, “do you remember +that nice Exmoor Sophomore named ‘Upton?’ +He wants to come over Saturday afternoon to +call and go walking. Dodo has probably written +the same thing to you. I see you have an Exmoor +letter.”</p> + +<p>“He has,” answered Judy, perusing her note. +“He wishes the honor of my company for a +short walk. Evidently they don’t think we have +many engagements since they don’t give us time +to answer their notes.”</p> + +<p>“Judy!”</p> + +<p>“Molly!”</p> + +<p>The two girls looked at each other for a brief +moment and then broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>“Nance’s letter must have been from one of +the others, Andy McLean, perhaps, that was why +she was so——”</p> + +<p>Judy paused. Somehow, it didn’t seem very +kind to imply that poor Nance was elated over +her first beau.</p> + +<p>“Dear, sweet old Nance!” cried Molly, her +heart warming to her friend. “She will probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +have them by the dozens some of these +days.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I should camp on her trail if I were +a man,” said Judy loyally. “But, Molly,” she +added, laughing again, “what are we to do about +old Mrs. Oldham?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! I hadn’t thought of that. And +poor Nance would have enjoyed the walk so +much more than a learned discourse on woman’s +rights.”</p> + +<p>Just before supper time Nance burst into the +room. She was humming a waltz tune; her +cheeks looked flushed, and she went briskly over +to the mirror and glanced at her image quickly, +while she took off her tam and sweater.</p> + +<p>The girls had never seen her looking so pretty. +They waited for her to mention the note, but she +talked of other things until Judy, always impatient +to force events, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“What was that note you were waving at us +this afternoon, Nance?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was from——”</p> + +<p>A tap on the door interrupted her and Margaret +Wakefield entered.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nance,” she cried, “I am so excited over +your mother’s coming to speak at college to-morrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +afternoon. Isn’t it fine of her? It’s Miss +Bowles, Professor in Advanced Math., who is +bringing her, you know, of course?”</p> + +<p>Except that her face turned perfectly white, +Nance showed no sign whatever that she had received +a staggering blow, but her two friends +felt for her deeply and Molly came to her rescue.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Nance, dearest,” she said, “I +thought you might want to have your mother +with you to-morrow night, and I was going to +offer you my bed and turn in with Judy.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Molly,” answered Nance, huskily; +“that would be nice.”</p> + +<p>Very little ever escaped the alert eyes of Margaret +Wakefield; but if she noticed anything +strange in Nance’s manner, she made no comment +whatever. She was a fine girl, full of +sympathy and understanding, with a certain +well-bred dignity of manner that is seldom seen +in a young girl.</p> + +<p>“It will be quite a gala event at Queen’s if +Mrs. Oldham eats supper here,” she said gently; +“but no doubt she will be claimed by some of the +faculty.” Then she slipped quietly out of the +room, just in time, for quiet, self-contained Nance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +burst suddenly into a storm of weeping and flung +herself on the bed.</p> + +<p>“And she never even took the trouble to tell +me,” she sobbed brokenly. “She has probably +forgotten that I am even going to Wellington.”</p> + +<p>It was a difficult moment for Molly and Judy. +Would it be more tactful to slip out of the room +or to try and comfort Nance? After all, she had +had very little sympathy in her life, and sympathy +was what she craved and love, too, Molly felt +sure of this, and with an instinct stronger than +reason, she slipped down beside her friend on the +couch and put her arms around her.</p> + +<p>“Darling, sweetest Nance,” she cried, “I am +sure the message will come. Perhaps she’ll telegraph, +and they will telephone from the village. +Judy and I love you so dearly, it breaks our +hearts to see you cry like this. Doesn’t it, +Judy?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, it does,” answered Judy, who was +kneeling at the side of the couch with her cheek +against Nance’s hand.</p> + +<p>It was a comfort to Nance to realize that she +had gained the friendship and affection of these +two loving, warm-hearted girls. Never in her +life had she met any girls like them, and presently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +the bitterness in her heart began to melt +away.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps she will telegraph,” she said, drying +her eyes. “It was silly of me to take on so, but, +you see, I had a little shock—I’m all right now. +You’re dears, both of you.”</p> + +<p>Judy went into her own room and returned in +a moment with a large bottle of German cologne. +Filling the stationary wash basin with cold water +she poured in a liberal quantity of the cologne.</p> + +<p>“Now, dearest Nance,” she said, “bathe your +face in that, and then powder with Molly’s pink +rice powder, and all will be as if it never had +been,” she added, smiling.</p> + +<p>The others smiled, too. Somehow, Nance’s +outburst had done her more good than harm. For +the first time in her life she had been coddled +and sympathized with and petted. It was almost +worth while to have suffered to have gained +such rewards. After all, there were some pleasant +things in life. For instance, the note which +had come to her that afternoon from young +Andy McLean, son of Dr. McLean, the college +physician. To think that she, “the little gray +mouse,” as her father had often called her, had +inspired any one with a desire to see her again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +It was almost impossible to believe, but there was +the young Scotchman’s note to refute all contrary +arguments.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Oldham</span>,” it said, in a good, +round handwriting, “I have been wanting so +much to see you again since our jolly day at Exmoor. +I am bringing some fellows over on Saturday +to supper at my father’s. If you should +happen to be in about four o’clock, may I call? +How about a walk before supper? I can’t tell +you how disappointed I’ll be if you have another +engagement.</p> + +<p><span class="rght3">“Yours sincerely,</span><br /> +<span class="rght1">“Andrew McLean, 2d.”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Of course, she would have to give up the walk +now, but it was pleasant to have been remembered +and perhaps he would come again.</p> + +<p>That night at supper Nance was unusually +bright and talkative. She answered all the many +questions concerning her famous mother so +easily and pleasantly that even Margaret Wakefield +must have been deceived.</p> + +<p>The two sophomores at Queen’s were giving a +dance that evening, and while the girls sat in the +long sitting room waiting for the guests to arrive, +Judy took occasion to whisper to Molly:</p> + +<p>“Why should she have to appear at the lecture, +anyhow?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Because it would be disrespectful not to,” +answered Molly. “She must be there, of course. +Would you go gallivanting off with a young man +if your mother was going to give a lecture here?”</p> + +<p>“I should say not; but that’s different.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” persisted Molly; “it’s never different +when it’s your mother, even when she doesn’t +behave like one. Can’t you see that Nance would +rather die than have people know that her mother +isn’t exactly like other mothers?”</p> + +<p>The next day was one of the busiest in the +week for Molly. Two of her morning hours she +spent coaching Judy in Latin. Then there were +her lace collars to be done up, her stockings to +be darned; a trip to be made to the library, where +she stood in line for more than twenty minutes +waiting for a certain volume of the Encyclopædia +Britannica, and spent more than an hour extracting +notes on “Norse Mythology.” It was +well on toward lunch time when she finally hastened +across the campus to Queen’s to fill some +orders for “cloud-bursts,” which were intended +to be part of the refreshments for certain Saturday +evening suppers.</p> + +<p>So weary was she and so intent on getting +through in what she called “schedule time,” that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +she almost ran into Professor Edwin Green before +she even recognized him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed, a +wave of color sweeping over her pale face.</p> + +<p>“Why are you hurrying so fast on Saturday?” +he asked pleasantly. “Don’t you ever give yourself +a holiday?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; lots of them,” she answered; “but I’m +a little rushed to-day with some extra duties.”</p> + +<p>She thought of the “cloud-bursts,” which must +be made and packed in boxes by the afternoon.</p> + +<p>“You are overdoing it, Miss Brown. You +are not obeying the doctor’s orders. When I see +you there to-night I shall confront you in his +presence with the charge of disobedience.”</p> + +<p>“There to-night?” repeated Molly.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. Have you forgotten about the +supper to-night?”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not invited.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, you are,” answered the Professor, +with a knowing smile. “You’ll probably find the +note waiting for you. And you must be sure and +come, because the McLean’s are real characters. +They will interest you, I am sure.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Nance,” was Molly’s first thought. And +her second thought was: “If her mother is invited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +out to dine, she can accept.” Her face +brightened at this, and without knowing it, she +smiled.</p> + +<p>Molly led such a busy, concentrated life, that +when she did relax for a few moments, she +sometimes seemed absent-minded and inattentive. +The Professor was looking at her closely.</p> + +<p>“You are pleased at being asked to the McLean’s?” +he said.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of something else,” she said. +“I was wondering if, after all, Nance couldn’t +arrange to go. Of course, she’ll be invited, too; +but, you see, her mother is to be here.”</p> + +<p>“Is Mrs. Oldham, the Suffragette, her mother?” +he asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Oldham is to dine at the President’s +to-night. I know, because I was asked to meet +her, but”—he looked at her very hard indeed—“I +had another engagement.”</p> + +<p>“Then Nance can go. Isn’t it beautiful? I +am so glad!” Molly clasped her hands joyously.</p> + +<p>Professor Green gave her such a beautiful, +beaming smile that it fairly transfigured his +face.</p> + +<p>“You are a very good friend, Miss Brown,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +he said gently; “but would not Miss Oldham +rather be with her mother, that is, in case the +President should invite her, too, which is highly +probable?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope she won’t. You see, Nance has +never had much pleasure with young people, and”—it +was difficult to explain—“and her mother——” +she hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Her mother, being the most famous clubwoman +in America, hasn’t spent much time at +home? Is that it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes,” admitted Molly. “In fact, she +hardly remembers she has a daughter,” she +added indignantly, and then bit her lip, feeling +that she was bordering on disloyalty.</p> + +<p>The Professor cleared his throat and thrust +his hands into his pockets. He was really very +boyish-looking to be so old.</p> + +<p>“So you have set your heart on Miss Oldham’s +going to the supper to-night?” he said gravely.</p> + +<p>“If there is any fun going, Judy and I would +be sorry to have her miss it,” she answered. +“And I don’t suppose it would be thrilling to +dine at the President’s with a lot of learned older +people.”</p> + +<p>“I’m just on my way to President Walker’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +now,” pursued the Professor thoughtfully. “In +fact, I was just about to deliver my regrets in +person regarding dinner to-night, and having +some business to attend to with Miss Walker, I +thought I would call. While I am there, it is +possible—well, in fact, Miss Brown, there should +be a good fairy provided by Providence to grant +all unselfish wishes. She would not be a busy +fairy by any means, I am afraid, except when +she hovered around you. Good morning,” and +lifting his hat, the Professor hastened away, +leaving Molly in a state of half-pleased perplexity.</p> + +<p>On the table in her room she found a note from +Mrs. McLean, inviting her to supper that evening. +Two other invitations from the same lady +were handed to Nance and Judy, but Nance was +at that moment seated at her desk accepting an +invitation from Miss Walker to dine there with +her mother at seven. She was writing the answer +very carefully and slowly, in her best handwriting, +and on her best monogram note paper.</p> + +<p>“Do you think that’s good enough?” she demanded, +handing the note to Molly to read.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” answered Molly, looking it over +hastily while she prepared to write her own answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +to Mrs. McLean, and then she threw herself +into the business of “cloud-bursts.”</p> + +<p>Just as the lunch gong sounded, Bridget, the +Irish waitress at President Walker’s house, appeared +at their half-open door.</p> + +<p>“A note for Miss Oldham,” she said; “and the +President says no answer is necessary. Good +afternoon, ma’am; they’ll be waitin’ lunch if I +don’t make haste.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“‘<span class="smcap">My dear Miss Oldham</span>,’” Nance read +aloud. “‘I have just learned that you are invited +to a young people’s supper party to-night at Mrs. +McLean’s, and I therefore hasten to release you +from your engagement to dine with me. Your +mother will spare you, I am sure, on this one +evening, and I hope you will enjoy yourself with +your friends. With kindest regards, believe me,</p> + +<p><span class="rght3">“‘Cordially yours,</span><br /> +<span class="rght1">“‘Emma K. Walker.’”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>“Isn’t she a brick?” cried Judy, dancing +around the room and clapping her hands.</p> + +<p>“It was awfully nice of her,” said Nance +thoughtfully. “I wonder how she knew I was +invited to the McLean’s?”</p> + +<p>“Some good fairy must have told her,” answered +Molly, half to herself, as she stirred +brown sugar into a saucepan.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> + +<small>THE MCLEAN SUPPER.</small></h2> + + +<p>Nance did get a telegram from her mother that +afternoon. It was very vague about trains and +merely said: “Arrive in Wellington about two +this afternoon. Meet me. Mother.”</p> + +<p>Fortunately, the girls were as familiar with +the train schedule as with their own class schedules, +and knew exactly what train she meant.</p> + +<p>“It’s the two-fifteen, of course,” announced +Judy. “Shall we go down with you to meet her, +Nance?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; I think mother would like that +very much,” answered Nance, pleased with the +idea. “She loves attention.”</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the two-fifteen pulled into +Wellington station, our three freshmen, together +with Margaret Wakefield heading a deputation +from the Freshman Suffrage Club, and Miss +Bowles, teacher in Higher Mathematics, were +waiting on the platform.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There she is!” cried Nance, with a note of +eagerness in her voice that made Molly’s heart +ache.</p> + +<p>They all moved forward to meet a gaunt, +tired-looking woman, with a sallow, faded complexion +and a nervous manner; but her brilliant, +clear brown eyes offset her unprepossessing appearance. +Glowing with intelligence and with +feverish energy they flashed their message to the +world, like two mariner’s lights at sea, and those +who caught that burning glance forgot the tired +face and distraught manner of the woman of +clubs.</p> + +<p>“How are you, my dear?” she said, kissing +Nance quite casually, without noticing where the +kiss was going to land, and scarcely glancing at +her daughter.</p> + +<p>She had evidently been making notes on the +trip down and still carried a pencil and some +scrap paper in one hand, while the other grasped +her suit case, of which Nance promptly relieved +her. She shook hands cordially with Miss +Bowles, and the girls whom Nance introduced, +searching the face of each, as a recruiting officer +might examine applicants for the army. +Then they all climbed into the bus and presently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +she plunged into a discussion with Miss Bowles +on the advance of the suffrage movement in +England and America.</p> + +<p>“And this is the woman,” whispered Judy to +Molly dramatically, “who has spoken before legislatures +and represented the suffrage party +abroad and been regent of Colonial Dames and +President of National Societies for the Purification +of Politics and—and lecturer on ‘The History +of Legislation——’”</p> + +<p>“How under the sun can you remember it all?” +interrupted Molly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I have got them straight,” answered +Judy, “but they all sound alike, anyhow, +so what’s the odds?”</p> + +<p>Molly discreetly took herself off to Judy’s +room that afternoon, leaving Nance and her +mother together for the short time that elapsed +before the lecture was to begin. But Nance soon +followed them.</p> + +<p>“Mother wants to be alone,” she said. “She +has some notes to look over, and she has never +read her day-before-yesterday’s mail yet. By +the way, you are not going to the lecture, are +you?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course we are,” answered the girls in the +same breath.</p> + +<p>“But the walk?”</p> + +<p>“That can be postponed until to-morrow,” answered +Molly promptly. “The boys are going to +spend the night at the McLean’s, you know.”</p> + +<p>Thus Nance’s happiness was all arranged for +by her two devoted friends.</p> + +<p>The gymnasium was only half full when the +girls escorted “the most distinguished clubwoman +in America” across the campus and into +the great hall. The freshmen had turned out in +full force, partly to do honor to Nance and partly +because President Margaret Wakefield had been +talking up the lecture beforehand. Miss Walker +and others of the faculty were there, and in a +far gallery seat Molly caught a glimpse of Professor +Green, whose glance seemed to be turned +unseeingly in her direction.</p> + +<p>If Judy and Molly had had any fears as to how +the absent-minded member of clubs was going +to conduct herself on the platform, all doubts +were soon dispelled. After the introduction +made by the President, the lecturer’s nervous +manner entirely disappeared. She approached +the front of the platform with a composure marvelous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +to see, and in a cultivated, trained voice—not +her everyday voice, by any means—she delivered +an address of fervid and passionate eloquence; +a plea for woman’s rights and universal +suffrage so convincing that the most obstinate +“anti” would have been won over. After the +lecture there was an impromptu reception on the +platform; then tea at Miss Bowles’ room and at +last home to dress for the supper parties.</p> + +<p>Judy and Molly had hastened ahead, leaving +Nance to tear her mother from her circle of admirers +with the plea that she would be too late. +At twenty minutes before seven they hurried in, +Mrs. Oldham looking so frail and exhausted that +it hardly seemed possible she could keep up. +While her poor daughter dashed into her own +clothes, her mother sat limp and inert during the +process of having her hair beautifully arranged +with lightning speed by the deft and handy Judy, +while Molly gave the weary woman aromatic +spirits of ammonia in a glass of water and presently +hooked her into a dinner dress which was +really very handsome, of black lace over gray +satin.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, my dears,” she said amiably, giving +an absent-minded glance at herself in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +glass. “You are very kind, I am sure. I am +such a busy woman I have little time to spare for +beautifying; but I must say Miss Kean has improved +my appearance by that high arrangement +of hair.”</p> + +<p>They were surprised that she remembered +Judy’s name until they learned from Nance later +that such was her training in meeting strangers, +she never forgot a name or face.</p> + +<p>“Now, where am I going?” continued the famous +clubwoman. “You will drop me there, you +say? You are going somewhere, Nance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mother,” answered Nance patiently. It +was the third time she had told her mother that +fact.</p> + +<p>At last they got her be-nubiaed and be-caped, +and at exactly two minutes past seven o’clock deposited +her at the President’s front door.</p> + +<p>Then, with feelings of indescribable relief, +they ran gayly across the campus, chattering and +laughing like magpies.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later they were seated at Mrs. +McLean’s large round supper table.</p> + +<p>Professor Green, seated just opposite Nance, +gave her happy, glowing face a long questioning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +look, then turning to Molly next to him, he said:</p> + +<p>“She is enjoying it, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” whispered Molly; “thanks to you, good +fairy.”</p> + +<p>“But the wish must come before the fairy acts, +so that, after all, one is far more important than +the other,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t the lecture wonderful?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Very remarkable,” he answered. “Women +like that should take to the platform and leave +families to other women to rear.”</p> + +<p>“They certainly can’t do both,” said Molly, remembering +poor Nance’s outburst the afternoon +before.</p> + +<p>“And if you have the vote,” went on the Professor +in a louder voice, and with a kind of mock +solemnity, “what will you do with it?”</p> + +<p>“They’ll pitch all the men out of office, Professor,” +called Dr. McLean, who had overheard +this question; “and they’ll do all the work, too, +and we men will begin to enjoy life a little. +We’ve been slaves long enough. I’m for the +emancipation of men,” he cried, “and Woman’s +Suffrage is the only way to bring it about.”</p> + +<p>They all laughed at this original view of the +question, and Mrs. McLean, a charming woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +with a beautiful Scotch accent, impossible to +imitate, observed:</p> + +<p>“My dear, the women are just as great slaves +as the men, and they work much harder, if only +you knew it. But you don’t because we are careful +to conceal it. There are <i lang="gd" xml:lang="gd">vera</i> few women +who do not wear their company manners in the +presence of a man, take my word for it.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the reason you are always so charming, +Mrs. McLean?” put in Professor Green. +“But I suspect you have only company manners.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Professor; young Andy will tell +you that I can be rude enough at times.”</p> + +<p>Andy McLean, a tall, raw-boned youth with +sandy hair and a thin, intelligent face, was too +deeply engaged in conversation at that moment +with Nance, to hear his mother’s speech.</p> + +<p>“Let him alone, he’s busy,” remarked his father +with a humorous smile.</p> + +<p>“There’s an old song we sing at home,” went +on Mrs. McLean, “‘there’s nae luck in tha’ hoose +when the gude man’s awa’,’ but it should be +the gude wife, for if ever a house goes to sixes +and sevens it is my own house when I leave the +two Andys and take ship for Scotland for a bit +of a visit. There’s nae luck in the hoose for certain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +and glad they are to get me back again, if +’tis only for their own personal comfort.”</p> + +<p>“Hoity, toity, mother,” exclaimed the doctor; +“we’re joost as glad to have you for your ainsel’, +my dear.”</p> + +<p>“Now, is it so, then?” laughed the gude wife. +“Well, that’s satisfying assurance, truly.”</p> + +<p>They found the doctor and his wife very amusing, +and Molly liked Lawrence Upton, too, who +was seated on her other side. He was a typical +college youth, tall and stalwart, his brown hair +brushed back in a pompadour, his clear, ruddy +complexion glowing with vigor. In fact, he was +one of the leading athletes at Exmoor, and had +won a championship at high jumping and running.</p> + +<p>“I hope we’ll have some dancing after dinner, +Miss Brown,” he said. “I hear Southern girls +fairly float, and I’d like to have a chance to find +it out.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with me, +then,” answered Molly. “I’ve been leading at +most of the college dances this fall, and it’s +ruination to good dancing, you know. A leader +is always pulling against the bit like a badly +trained horse.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You look to me like a thoroughbred, Miss +Brown,” said the gallant youth. “I’m not afraid +of your pulling against the bit.”</p> + +<p>There <em>was</em> some dancing after dinner in the +McLean’s long, old-fashioned drawing-room, +while Mrs. McLean herself played long old-fashioned +waltzes on the piano, funny hop polkas +and schottisches of antique origin. They enjoyed +it immensely, however, fitting barn dances to the +schottisches and mazurkas and two steps to the +polkas. Twice Professor Green engaged Molly +in a waltz. She had anticipated that his dancing +would be as old-fashioned as the music, but +to her surprise, she found him thoroughly up to +date. In fact, she was obliged to admit that the +Professor in English Literature danced better +than any of the younger men at Mrs. McLean’s +that night.</p> + +<p>It was really the most delightful evening Molly +had spent since she had been at Wellington. To +Nance, it was the most delightful evening of her +entire life and Judy, who always enjoyed the +last time best of all, told Mrs. McLean when +they left that she had never had a better time +in her life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the dance, they sat around the big open +fire, roasting chestnuts, while Dr. McLean sang +a funny song called “Wee Wullie,” and Judy +followed with an absurd “piece” on the piano +called “Birdie’s Dead,” in schottische time, which +sent them into shrieks of laughter and amused +Dr. McLean so that he laid his head on his wife’s +shoulder and wept with joy.</p> + +<p>Sitting in the inglenook by the fireplace, Professor +Green said to Molly:</p> + +<p>“I have been waiting to say something to you, +Miss Brown, and I will ask you to regard it as +confidential.”</p> + +<p>She looked up thinking perhaps it was the +comic opera he was going to talk about, but she +was vastly mistaken.</p> + +<p>“When, as Botticelli’s Flora, you came to +that night with the words, ‘I saw her——’ you +did not guess, did you, that I, too, had seen her?”</p> + +<p>They looked at each other and a flash of understanding +passed between them. They now +shared two secrets.</p> + +<p>“I always wanted to tell you,” he continued +in a low voice, “how much I admired your generous +silence. You are a very remarkable young +woman.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<p>With that the party broke up. Later, stretching +her long slenderness in the three-quarter bed +beside Judy, Molly smiled to herself, and decided +that some older men were almost as nice as some +young ones.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> + +<small>A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.</small></h2> + + +<p>Just about this time a new figure appeared at +Wellington College. She was known as “inspector +of dormitories,” and her office was mainly +sanitary, and did not infringe on the duties of +the matrons. The new inspector lodged at +Queen’s, since there was an empty room in that +establishment, and her name was Miss Steel.</p> + +<p>“If she had had her choice of all the names +in the English language, she could not have +chosen a more suitable one,” remarked Judy who +had taken a violent dislike to Miss Steel from +the first.</p> + +<p>She was indeed a steel-like person, steely eyes, +steel-gray hair, pale, thin lips, and at her belt +metallic chains from which jangled notebook and +pencil. When she spoke, which was rarely, her +voice was sharp and incisive, and cut the air like +a knife. But her most objectionable quality, the +girls thought, was that she never made any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +sound when she walked, the reason being that +she had rubber heels on her shoes.</p> + +<p>The first real encounter the girls had with +Miss Steel was at a Thanksgiving Eve spread +given by the combined G. F. Society, most of +the members having received bountiful Thanksgiving +boxes from home. Nance’s neglected and +lonely father had sent her a five-pound box of +candy in lieu of the usual box, which takes a +woman to plan and pack, and Judy’s devoted parents, +always on the fly, had shipped her a box of +fruit. All the others had received regular boxes +full of Thanksgiving cheer, and the feast was to +be a grand one. Each member invited guests, +and by general vote extra ones were asked: +Frances Andrews, who declined because she was +going away, and two freshmen who lived in the +village, and were working their way through college. +Judith Blount was to be there by invitation +of pretty Jessie Lynch, and Molly had invited +Mary Stewart.</p> + +<p>Most of the girls wore fancy costumes, and +Molly’s and Nance’s large room was the scene of +an extravaganza. The feast was piled on four +study tables placed in an unbroken row and covered +with a white cloth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jessie had worn her famous ballet costume, +and was as pretty as a little captive sprite. Judith +was in a gorgeous Turkish dress consisting +of full yellow silk trousers, a tunic of transparent +net and embroidered Turkish slippers. Nance +wore her Scotch costume, and at the last minute +Molly, who had been too busy even to think of a +costume all day, dressed herself up charmingly +like a Tyrolean peasant in what she could collect +from the other girls.</p> + +<p>A great many of the guests had arrived and +the room was filled when a chambermaid appeared +in the doorway with a tray of cards.</p> + +<p>“Some gentlemen to call, Miss,” she said, endeavoring +not to smile at a Little Boy Blue and +a Little Lord Fauntleroy, who were waltzing together.</p> + +<p>There were four cards on the tray: “Mr. Edwin +Green,” “Mr. George Theodore Green,” +“Andrew McLean, 2d,” and “Mr. Lawrence Upton.”</p> + +<p>“Well, of all the strange times to pay a call,” +exclaimed Molly. “Will you say that we are +very sorry, but we must be excused this evening,” +she said to the maid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>The servant bowed and slipped away, while all +the girls in the room pounced on the cards.</p> + +<p>“Well, I never! Four beaux, and one of them +a professor!” cried Jessie, showing the cards to +Judith.</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown could hardly claim Cousin Edwin +as a beau,” said Judith, her black eyes snapping. +“His younger brother, George, often +drags him into things, and poor Cousin Edwin +consents to go because George is so timid, but +as for paying a social call on a freshman, even +the most self-confident freshman could hardly +regard a visit from him as that.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t regard it as that,” ejaculated Molly.</p> + +<p>She was not accustomed to sharp-tongued people, +and it was really difficult for her to deal +with them properly, as Judy could, and Nance, +too. But she forced herself to remember that +Judith was a guest in her room, and was about to +partake of some of her good Kentucky fare. +She turned away without saying another word, +and fortunately the maid came back just then +and relieved the strained situation.</p> + +<p>“The gentlemen say they must see you, +ma’am,” she said; “and if you won’t come down +to them, they’ll just come upstairs.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What?” cried a chorus of girls.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a wild scramble on the +stairs; shouts of laughter, a sound of heavy boots +thumping along the hall, and four tall young men +burst into the room. There were shrieks from +disappearing Boy Blues and Fauntleroys, who +endeavored to cover their extremities with sofa +cushions, the captive sprite rushed into a closet +and a wild scene of disorder and pandemonium +followed.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be frightened, ladies,” said the tallest +young man, who wore correct evening clothes, +from his opera hat and pearl studs to his pointed +patent leather pumps. His hair was light and +curly, and he had a long yellow mustache, like +Lord Dundreary’s.</p> + +<p>“Ladies! ladies! why all this excitement?” +called another of the quartette, dressed in full +black and white checked trousers, a short tan +overcoat, a red tie and a brown derby.</p> + +<p>The third young man wore a smoking jacket +and white duck trousers, and the fourth was +dressed in an English golf suit and visored cap.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you villains!” cried Jessica, popping her +head out of the closet. “You have frightened us +almost to death. Do you think I wouldn’t know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +you, Margaret Wakefield, even in that sporting +suit. Come over here and show yourself!”</p> + +<p>The bogus gentlemen were indeed three of the +evening’s hostesses and one of the guests. Mary +Stewart wore the evening clothes, borrowed from +her brother for a senior play to take place shortly. +Judy had on the golf suit, Sallie Marks the dinner +coat and Margaret the rakish sporting costume.</p> + +<p>“But where did you get the cards?” asked Judith, +ashamed of herself, now that the visitors’ +real identity was disclosed.</p> + +<p>“I wrote to Dodo and asked him for them,” +answered Judy, giving her a look, as much as to +say, “What affair is it of yours?”</p> + +<p>After the banquet was commenced and the fun +waxed fast and furious, there was a cakewalk at +the last, with a box of “cloud-bursts” as the +prize, the eight hostesses taking turns as judges.</p> + +<p>“After this wild orgy, I think we’d better be +leaving,” said Mary Stewart. “It’s getting cold +and late, but we’ve had a glorious time. Will +you permit a gentleman to kiss you on the cheek, +Molly?”</p> + +<p>“That I will,” answered Molly, “and proud of +the honor.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + +<p>Slipping on a skirt and a long ulster, Mary +took her departure with Judith and the other +girls, who did not have rooms at Queen’s, and +pretty soon the party had disbanded.</p> + +<p>“I’ll stay and help you gather up the loaves +and fishes,” Judy announced. “It’ll soon be ten, +but we can hang a dressing gown over the transom +and draw the blinds and no one will know +the difference just this once,” she added, proceeding +to carry out her ideas of deception.</p> + +<p>“I’m still hungry,” observed Nance. “I had +to wait on so many people I didn’t have a chance +to eat any supper myself.”</p> + +<p>“So am I famished,” said Molly; “but I was +ashamed to confess it.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like a cup of hot tea,” observed Judy, who +had waited on nobody but herself.</p> + +<p>“When Mrs. Markham comes around,” cautioned +Nance, “in case she knocks on the door, +one of us be ready to put out the light. Judy, +you slip into the closet. She’s been known to +come in, you know, after one of these jamborees.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Markham’s away,” answered Judy. +“‘Steel beads’ is taking her place until after +Thanksgiving.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girls munched their sandwiches and +talked in low voices. Suddenly there was a sharp +rap on the door. Instantly the light went out +and there was dead silence. Judy, crawling on +all fours toward the closet, was about to conceal +herself behind protecting skirts, when the rap +was repeated.</p> + +<p>“Well, what is it?” called Nance, the boldest +among them, “the light is out.”</p> + +<p>There was no answer and the rap was not repeated.</p> + +<p>The girls waited a few moments, and then cautiously +lighting a student’s lamp with a green +shade, proceeded with their supper. Judy looked +at her watch. It was a quarter of eleven.</p> + +<p>Again they were interrupted. This time by +some pebbles thrown against the window.</p> + +<p>Molly raised the sash softly and gazed down +into the darkness below.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she called.</p> + +<p>“It’s Margaret,” answered a voice from the +yard. “For the love of heaven, can’t you let me +in? I’ll explain afterward. I wouldn’t mind +ringing up Mrs. Markham, but I’m afraid of that +Steel woman.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” answered Molly, and closing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +the window, she turned to consult with the +others.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to be done but to go down,” +they decided, and Molly insisted on being the +sacrificial lamb. Judy made her slip on her +nightgown over her dress, and her dressing gown +over that, in order to appear in the proper guise +in case anything happened.</p> + +<p>But they were doomed to another shock that +night.</p> + +<p>Just as Molly opened the door she came face +to face with Miss Steel standing outside in the +hall.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Molly politely, +feeling thankful she had put on her nightgown, +“I thought I heard a noise outside.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to be sitting up very late to-night, +Miss Brown,” said Miss Steel, looking at her +coldly. “I was told to enforce the ten o’clock +rule in Mrs. Markham’s absence, and I must ask +you to get to bed at once, unless you wish to be +reported.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” said Molly.</p> + +<p>The woman seemed unnecessarily stern, she +thought, because, after all, this was not a boarding +school, but a college. However, she went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +back, and closed and bolted the door. In her +heart she felt a contempt for any one who would +creep about and listen at people’s doors. Mrs. +Markham would have been incapable of it.</p> + +<p>Just then there came another pebble against +the window.</p> + +<p>Judy crept to the window this time.</p> + +<p>“Wait, Margaret,” she called. “Miss Steel is +about.”</p> + +<p>There was perfect stillness for several long +black minutes. The three girls sat in a row +on the floor listening with strained ears and to +Judy at least the adventure was not without its +enjoyment. At last they felt that it might be +safe to act. Taking off their shoes they moved +noiselessly to the window and looked down. +There stood the courageous Margaret in full +view on the roof of the piazza. She had actually +shinned up one of the pillars, which was not such +a difficult feat as it might seem, as the railing +around the piazza had placed her within reach +of the wooden grillwork and swinging onto that +she had drawn herself up to the roof. She had +skinned her wrist and stumped one of her stockinged +toes, having removed her shoes and hidden +them under the house, but she appeared now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +the very figure of courage and action, waiting +for the next move. The three girls stood looking +down at her in a state of fearful uncertainty +as to what should be done next, and as if this +were not exciting enough, three light telegraphic +taps were heard on the door.</p> + +<p>“That’s not Miss Steel,” whispered Judy.</p> + +<p>“Who is it,” she called softly through the keyhole.</p> + +<p>“Jessie,” came the answer.</p> + +<p>Instantly the door was opened and Jessie crept +in.</p> + +<p>“Miss Steel is up,” she whispered. “I saw her +on the landing below just now. Be careful. I +am scared to death because Margaret hasn’t come +back.”</p> + +<p>For an answer, they led her to the window +and pointed to the shadowy figure of her roommate +on the piazza roof.</p> + +<p>Because Molly had conceived a dislike and distrust +for Miss Steel, she made up her mind to +outwit her and save her friend. She reflected +that if Margaret tried any of the girls on the second +floor whose windows opened on the roof, she +might get in but she would still have the third +flight to make and as the stairs creaked at every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +step, it would be a difficult matter. Fortunately +Miss Steel’s room was on the other side of the +hall.</p> + +<p>“I have a scheme,” she whispered at last. +“Now, don’t any one move. I can manage it +without making a sound.”</p> + +<p>There was a ball of twine on the mantelpiece. +Thank heavens for that. She tied one end to the +back of a cane chair, which she let slowly out of +the window. Then, snipping off the end of the +cord, she gave it to Nance to hold. Another +chair, which was fortunately smaller, she let +down in the same way and finally a stool. Margaret +placed one on top of the other, mounted +the precarious and toppling pyramid, and with +the strength of arm and wrist which showed her +gymnasium training, pulled herself to the window +sill and was in the room.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet,” they whispered. “Miss Steel is +about.”</p> + +<p>The four girls lay down on the couches and +waited a long time. Judy really fell asleep in +the interval before they dared risk pulling back +the chairs. It was, in fact, a risky business, and +had to be done cautiously and carefully to keep +them from bumping against the walls of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +house. At last, however, the whole thing was +accomplished.</p> + +<p>Margaret explained that she had gone over to +one of the other houses to return the clothes +she had borrowed and had joined another +Thanksgiving party and stayed longer than she +had intended. They also had been held up by +the matron, and had been obliged to put out the +lights and hide everything under the bed. She +had escaped from the house by a miracle without +being found out, and had trusted to luck and her +friends for getting into Queen’s unobserved.</p> + +<p>And now, at last, the adventure was almost +over. After another interminable wait, Judy +and Margaret and Jessie crept off to their rooms.</p> + +<p>Judy’s door was still ajar when she saw a +flash of light on the stairs, which heralded the +approach of Miss Steel, still fully clothed, and +walking noiselessly as usual. Judy closed her +door and locked it softly.</p> + +<p>“Only a spy would wear felt slippers,” she +said to herself scornfully. Then she laughed. +“It was rather good fun to be sure, but would it +have mattered so much, after all, if Margaret +had boldly come in at the front door and explained?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>They would never have gone to all that trouble +to deceive nice Mrs. Markham, her thoughts +continued as she removed her manly attire, but +Miss Steel was different.</p> + +<p>As for Molly, her thoughts were about the +same as Judy’s.</p> + +<p>“A lady doesn’t creep,” she was thinking, as +she thankfully crawled into bed; “a lady doesn’t +listen at doors or wear soundless slippers in order +to walk like a cat. No, Miss Steel is decidedly +not a lady.”</p> + +<p>And when Molly came to this decision about +a person, she avoided them carefully ever afterward. +Her definition of a “lady” was about +the same as a man’s definition of a “gentleman.” +It had nothing whatever to do with birth or education.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> + +<small>THE FOOTBALL GAME</small></h2> + + +<p>During those fast flying weeks which tread on +one another’s heels so rapidly between Thanksgiving +and Christmas, came one of the most important +events of the season.</p> + +<p>It was announced on the bulletin board as the +“Harboard-Snail Football Game,” and was, in +fact, a grand burlesque on a game played not +long before between two university teams.</p> + +<p>Quite half of the Wellington students took +part in the affair and those who were not actively +engaged were placed in the cheer sections to yell +themselves hoarse. There were a dozen doctors, +an ambulance, stretcher bearers, trained nurses +and the two teams in proper football attire.</p> + +<p>Everybody in college turned out one Saturday +afternoon to witness this elaborate parody. A +coach drove over from Exmoor fairly alive with +students, and the fields outside the Wellington +athletic grounds were black with people.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judy was a member of the corps of physicians +who were all dressed alike in frock coats reaching +well below the knees, gray trousers and silk +hats. They had imposing mustaches, carried +bags of instruments and were the most ludicrous +of all the actors that day.</p> + +<p>But it was the stretcher bearers who seemed to +excite the greatest merriment in the grand parade +which took place before the game began. +They were dressed something like “Slivers,” the +famous clown, in full white pantaloons and long +white coats cut in at the waist with wide skirts. +The members of the cheering sections which +headed the grand column were dressed in every +sort of absurd burlesque of a college boy’s +clothes that could be devised.</p> + +<p>“How they ever collected all those ridiculous +costumes is a marvel to me,” exclaimed President +Walker to Dr. McLean, whose face had +turned an apoplectic purple from laughter and +who occasionally let out a roar of joy that could +be heard all the way across the field.</p> + +<p>Following the cheering sections in the parade +were the two teams, hardly recognizable at all +as human beings. Their wigs of tousled hair +stood out all over their heads like the petals of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +enormous chrysanthemums. Most of them wore +nose guards or their faces were made up in a +savage and barbaric fashion. In their wadded +football suits, stuffed out of all human recognition, +they resembled trussed fowls. In the vanguard +of this strange and ludicrous procession +stalked a gigantic figure of Liberty. She was +about fifteen feet high, and her draperies reached +to the ground. Her long red hair blew in the +breezes and she carried a Wellington banner, +which she majestically waved over the heads of +the multitude. By her side ran a dwarf. They +were the mascots of the two sides.</p> + +<p>“Why, if that isn’t our little friend, Miss +Molly Brown,” exclaimed Dr. McLean, pointing +to Liberty. “She’s a bonnie lass and a sweet one. +Think now, of her being able to walk on those +sticks without losing her balance. It’s a verra +great achievement, I’m thinking, for a giddy-headed +young woman. For they’re all giddy-headed +at seventeen or thereabouts.”</p> + +<p>It was indeed Molly, the only girl in all Wellington +who could walk on stilts. The seniors +had advertised in <cite>The Commune</cite> for a first-class +“stiltswoman,” and Molly had promptly offered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +her services. Jessie had been selected as the +dwarf.</p> + +<p>“I hope the child won’t fall and break her +neck,” said Mrs. McLean on the other side of the +doctor. “It’s verra dangerous. Suppose she +should become suddenly faint——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t suppose anything of the sort, mither. +You’ve no grounds for thinkin’ the lass will tumble. +She seems to be at home in the air.”</p> + +<p>Professor Green, just beyond Mrs. McLean, +frowned, and put his hands in his pockets. He +wondered if Dr. McLean had forgotten that he +had been sent for just three weeks before when +Molly had fainted in the gymnasium, and the +Professor breathed a sigh of relief when Liberty +presently descended to the earth and the +game began.</p> + +<p>It was one of the bloodiest and roughest games +in the history of football. The ambulance bell +rang constantly. Every time a victim fell, the +cheering section on the other side set up a wild +yell. Doctors and nurses were scattered all about +the edges of the field attending to the wounded +and the stretchers were busy every minute. As +fast as one man tumbled another jumped into +his place, and at last when there came a touchdown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +the players seemed to have fallen on top of +each other in a mad squirming mass.</p> + +<p>People laughed that day who were rarely seen +to smile. Even Miss Steel’s severe expression +relaxed into a cold, steely smile.</p> + +<p>Molly had gathered up her long cheesecloth +robe and was sitting with Jessie on a bench at +the side of the field.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it perfect, Jessie?” she was saying. “I +don’t think I ever enjoyed anything so much in +all my life. It will make a wonderful letter +home.”</p> + +<p>Jessie smiled absently. With a pair of field +glasses, she was searching the faces of the spectators +for two friends (men, of course), who +had motored over to see the sport. At her belt +was pinned the most enormous bunch of violets +ever seen. In fact, they were two bunches worn +as one, from her two admirers. Presently Judith +joined them on the bench. Ever since the +Thanksgiving spread she had endeavored to be +very nice to Molly.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Ju-ju!” called Jessie; “you are a sight.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” she said. “I feel that I am a disgrace +to the sex. I only hope I’m not recognizable.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Your shiny black eye is the only familiar +thing about you. The rest is entirely disguised.”</p> + +<p>“I think I’d recognize that ring, Miss Blount,” +put in Molly. “Almost everybody knows that +emerald by sight now, who knows you at all.”</p> + +<p>Judith glanced quickly at her finger.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she exclaimed, “I forgot I +was wearing it? How stupid of me! I am +booked to take Rosamond’s place in a minute. +Will one of you girls take care of it for me? I +shall be much obliged.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better take it, Jessie,” said Molly, looking +rather doubtfully at the ring. She had only +one piece of jewelry to her name, a string of sapphires, +which had belonged to her mother when +she was a girl.</p> + +<p>But the ring was too big for Jessie’s slender, +pretty little fingers.</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” she said, “unless I wear it on my +thumb, and it might slip off, you know. You’ll +have to take it, Molly.”</p> + +<p>Molly slipped it on her finger and held it up +for admiration.</p> + +<p>“It’s the most beautiful ring I ever saw,” she +exclaimed. “It’s the color of deep green sea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +water. Not that I ever saw any, but I’ve heard +tell of it,” she added, laughing.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say you have never seen +the ocean!” cried Judith in a pleasant tone of +voice.</p> + +<p>Molly had never seen her so amiable before.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the freshman, “this is the nearest +I have ever been to it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, thanks for taking care of my ring,” +went on Judith. “I’ll see you after the game,” +and she departed to take up her duties on the +field, just as Rosamond, at the appointed time, +with a gash across her face, made with +finger-nail salve, was borne from the field on a +stretcher.</p> + +<p>After the game came another grand procession +in which all the wounded took part, Molly +on stilts, with Jessie running beside her, as before.</p> + +<p>All that morning Molly had felt buoyed up by +the fun and excitement of the great burlesque. +But, now that the game was over, as she strode +along on the giant stilts, she began to feel the +same overpowering fatigue she had experienced +that night at the living picture show. For a +week she had been living on her nerves. Often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +at night she had not slept, but had tossed about +on her bed trying to recall her lessons or make +mental notes of things she intended to do. On +cold mornings, her feet and hands were numb +and dead and Judy often made her run across +the campus and back to start her circulation. +And now that numbness began to climb from +her toes straight up her body. Molly turned unsteadily +and with shaky strides at least six feet +long, hastened across the field. Her feeling that +she must get out of the noise and turmoil, away +from everybody in the world, carried her back +of a row of sheds under which the players sat +during the intermissions. Once in this quiet place +she let herself down from the stilts. She was +conscious of being very cold. There was a deep +red light in the western sky from the setting sun, +then the numbness reached her brain and she remembered +nothing more until she opened her eyes +and saw Dr. McLean at one side of her and +Professor Green at the other.</p> + +<p>“Here she comes back at last,” exclaimed the +doctor. “Aye, lass, it’s a good thing this young +man has an observant eye. Otherwise ye might +have been lying out here in the cold all night. +You feel better now, don’t you?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, doctor,” answered Molly weakly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like these fainting spells, my lass. +You’re not made of iron, child. You’ll have to +give up one thing or t’other—study or play.”</p> + +<p>But there were other things Molly did beside +studying and playing. Of course the doctor did +not know about the “cloud-bursts” and the shoe-blacking +and the tutoring.</p> + +<p>“Aye, here comes one of my associates with a +carriage,” he went on, chuckling to himself. +“Shall we have a consultation now, Dr. Kean?”</p> + +<p>Judy, still in her absurd burlesque costume, +had driven up in one of the village surreys.</p> + +<p>As the two men lifted Molly into the back seat, +she noticed for the first time that she was wearing +a man’s overcoat. It was dark blue and felt +warm and comfortable. She slipped her hands +into the deep pockets and snuggled down into its +folds. Certainly she felt shivery about the spine, +and her hands and feet, which were never known +to be warm, were now like lumps of ice. As +the doctor was still wearing his great coat of +Scotch tweed, it was evidently the coat of the +Professor of English Literature she had appropriated.</p> + +<p>“It’s awfully good of you to lend me your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +coat,” she said to Professor Green, who was +standing at the side of the carriage while the +doctor climbed in beside her. “I’m afraid you’ll +take cold without it.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” he said, almost gruffly, “I’m not +dressed in cheesecloth.”</p> + +<p>“But I have on a white sweater under all this,” +said Molly timidly.</p> + +<p>The carriage drove away, however, without +his saying another word, and later that afternoon, +after Molly had taken a nap and felt rested +and refreshed, she engaged one of the maids at +Queen’s cottage to return Professor Green’s +overcoat with a message of thanks. Then, with +a sigh of relief, because when she had borrowed +anything it always weighed heavily on her mind, +and because she felt somehow that the Professor +was provoked with her, she turned over and went +to sleep again.</p> + +<p>Just as the clock in the chapel tower sounded +midnight she sat up in bed.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Molly, dear?” asked Nance, who +was wakeful and uneasy about her friend.</p> + +<p>Molly was looking at her right hand wildly.</p> + +<p>“The ring!” she cried. “Judith’s emerald ring—it’s +gone!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ring was indeed gone. Neither of her +friends had seen it on her finger since she had +been in her room.</p> + +<p>It was gone—lost!</p> + +<p>“It must have slipped off my finger when I +fainted,” sobbed the poor girl.</p> + +<p>Nance had summoned Judy at this trying +crisis, and the two girls endeavored to comfort +their friend, who seemed to be working herself +into a state of feverish excitement.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, we’ll find it in the morning, +Molly,” cried Nance. “You know exactly where +it was you fell, don’t you? Somewhere behind +the sheds. It’s sure to be there. Judy and I +promise to go there first thing, don’t we, Judy?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” acquiesced Judy, who loved her +morning sleep better than anything in life. But +Judy was learning unselfishness since she had +been associating with Molly and Nance.</p> + +<p>There was no more sleep for poor Molly that +night, however, and she lay through the dragging +hours with strained nerves and throbbing +temples wondering what would happen if she did +not find the ring.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> + +<small>THREE FRIENDS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Nance was still sound asleep when Molly crept +from her bed and dressed herself. It was a dismal +cold morning. A fine snow was falling and +she shivered as she tied a scarf around her head, +threw her long gray eiderdown cape over her +shoulders and slipped from the room, without +waking her friend, who was weary after the excitements +of the day before.</p> + +<p>Across the wind-swept campus she hastened, +anxiety lending swiftness to her steps, and at last +reached the Athletic Field. At the far end +snuggled several low wooden sheds like a group +of animals trying to keep warm by staying close +together.</p> + +<p>“I must hurry,” Molly thought, “or the snow +will be so thick I shall never be able to find the +ring,” and summoning all her energy she ran as +fast as she could straight to the spot where she +remembered to have dropped the day before behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +the sheds. Breathless and tingling all over +with little prickly chills, she knelt down and began +to search in the dead grass, brushing the +snow away as she hunted. She had not stopped +to find gloves, neither had she wasted any time +lacing her boots, but had slipped on some pumps +at the side of the bed.</p> + +<p>For a long time Molly searched every inch +of the ground back of the sheds where she might +have been. Then, with an ever-growing feeling +of desperation, she hunted in the field itself, +across which she had followed the parade. And +it was here that Judy and Nance found her so +absorbed in her search that she had not even noticed +their approach.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Molly, Molly! what are we going to do +with you?” cried Nance, seizing her by the arm +impulsively. “You’ll kill yourself by your imprudence. +Why didn’t you wait and let us look?”</p> + +<p>Molly opened her mouth to answer, and the +words came out in a husky whisper. She had entirely +lost her voice from hoarseness, without +even knowing that she had caught cold.</p> + +<p>“I’ve looked everywhere,” she whispered, “and +I haven’t found it. I couldn’t have lost it while +I was on the stilts, because I never let go of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +for a moment. It must have been when I +fainted.”</p> + +<p>“Judy, you take her home while I look again,” +volunteered Nance.</p> + +<p>“Take her to the infirmary, you mean,” answered +Judy, and she promptly led Molly by a +short cut toward the last house on the far side +of the campus, where stood the small college +hospital.</p> + +<p>Molly obediently allowed herself to be piloted +along. Her cheeks were burning; there was a +feverish light in her eyes, and she no longer felt +cold at all, but hot all over with little chills along +her spine.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I’m a great nuisance, Judy, dear. +I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m really in great +trouble,” she said huskily, as Judy confided her +to one of the two nurses at the hospital.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry,” was Judy’s parting command. +“We’ll find the ring. It can’t possibly be lost +utterly. It’s too big and green. I’ll see Judith +Blount, too. Some one may have found it and +returned it to her by this time. I’ll leave a notice +on the bulletin board and stand my little St. Joseph +on his head,” she added laughing. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +may be sure I’ll leave nothing undone to find +that old ring.”</p> + +<p>The first thing Judy did after breakfast that +Sunday morning was to pay a visit to Judith +Blount. There was a placard on her door announcing +to whom it might concern that Judith +was busy and did not wish to be disturbed, but +Judy knocked boldly and at an impatient “Who +is it?” replied: “I wish to see you on important +business. Please unlock the door.”</p> + +<p>Judy couldn’t make out why Judith Blount +looked so white and uneasy when she entered the +room; nor why her expression changed to one +of intense relief a moment later.</p> + +<p>“I came to ask you,” began Judy abruptly, “if +any one had found your emerald ring.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown has my ring,” answered Judith +promptly.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you know that Molly had fainted and +is now ill in the hospital and the ring is lost?”</p> + +<p>“My emerald ring lost?” Judith almost +shouted.</p> + +<p>“Don’t carry on so about it,” put in Judy. +“It’ll be found. Molly herself was up at dawn +this morning. She stole away before anybody +could stop her, and went to the field to look for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +it, but she hasn’t been able to find it, and neither +has Nance, who looked for it later. Nance has +gone down to the village to find the surrey that +took Molly home. We are all doing everything +we can and in the meantime I thought I would +tell you so that you could help us.”</p> + +<p>Judy could be very impudent when she wanted +to, and she was impudent now, as she stood +looking straight into Judith’s angry black eyes.</p> + +<p>“She should have been more careful,” burst +out Judith in a rage. “How do I know that——” +she stopped, frightened at what she was +about to say.</p> + +<p>“Better not say that,” said Judy calmly. “It +simply wouldn’t go, you know, and you must +know as well as I do that it would be absolutely +false.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know what I was going to say?”</p> + +<p>“I could guess,” said Judy, shrugging her +shoulders. “I can often guess things you would +like to say, but don’t, Miss Blount. What I came +for was to ask you to help us find the ring. +Molly is very ill, and, of course, it’s the loss of +the ring as much as anything else that’s made +her so. We’re all doing the best we can, and if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +you’ll just kindly add your efforts to ours, it +might help some.”</p> + +<p>“Supposing the ring isn’t found, what redress +have I? It’s been in our family for generations. +It was brought over from France by a Huguenot +ancestor——”</p> + +<p>“Nice place to be wearing it, then, at a football +game!” exclaimed Judy indignantly. “And then +forcing other people to take charge of it for you! +Redress, indeed! Do you want Molly to pay +you for your ring? I tell you, Miss Blount, that +a person who really had Huguenot ancestors +would never have suggested such a thing. It +wouldn’t have been Huguenot etiquette.”</p> + +<p>And Judy flung herself out of the room and +down the steps before the astonished Judith had +time to realize that she had been insulted by an +upstart of a freshman.</p> + +<p>It looked very much for a day or two as if +Molly were going to have a congestion in one +lung. For several days she was a very sick girl. +She had a strange delirium that she was looking +for something while she was walking on stilts. +Many times she asked the nurse if sapphires were +as valuable as emeralds, and once she demanded +to know if an emerald as large as her little finger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +nail was worth much money, say, two acres of +good orchard land. But the lung was not congested, +as Dr. McLean had at first thought. In +a day or two the fever subsided and by Thursday +she was able to sit up in bed, propped by +many pillows and see Judy and Nance.</p> + +<p>Her room was a bower of flowers. They had +even come from Exmoor, Lawrence Upton having +sent her a box of lovely pink roses. Mrs. +McLean had brought her a bunch of red berries +from the woods, and one day two cards were +brought up, one of which looked familiar: Miss +Grace Green and Mr. Edwin Green, inquiring +as to the improvement in Miss Molly Brown’s +condition, were pleased to hear that she was better.</p> + +<p>And now Nance and Judy sat on either side +the young invalid, each trying to assume a cheerful +expression and each feeling that whatever +disagreeable things had happened—and several +had happened—they must be hidden from Molly +at all costs.</p> + +<p>Judith Blount had scattered reports around +college of an extremely hateful character which +Molly’s friends had done their best to suppress. +The ring had never been found, although everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +had been done that could be thought of in +the way of advertising and searching.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Miss Steel had asked twice of +Molly’s condition in a very meaning tone of +voice, and had wished to know exactly when the +nurse thought Molly would be able to see visitors. +These things the girls knew, and since Molly +was still weak and very hoarse, her friends were +careful to keep off dangerous subjects.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, Molly had never mentioned the +ring to any one since she had been in the hospital.</p> + +<p>“Everybody has been so beautifully kind,” she +was saying, “and really, I think the rest is going +to do me so much good, that when I get well +I’ll be better than I was before I got sick,” she +added, laughing.</p> + +<p>“We’ve missed you terribly,” said Nance +dolefully.</p> + +<p>“Queen’s just a dead old hole without you, +Molly, dear,” went on Judy affectionately.</p> + +<p>Molly smiled lovingly at her two friends.</p> + +<p>“You are the dearest——” she began, taking a +hand of each when the nurse entered.</p> + +<p>“Miss Stewart would like to see you, Miss +Brown.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” cried Molly; “do ask her to come +up.”</p> + +<p>Nance and Judy did not linger after Mary +Stewart’s arrival. Her face also wore a serious +look, and she took Molly’s hand and gazed down +into her face almost with a compassionate expression.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Molly, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m much better,” replied Molly, cheerfully. +“I shall be up by to-morrow, the doctor +says, and I expect to go back to Queen’s Sunday.”</p> + +<p>Mary sat down and drew her chair up close +to the little white bed.</p> + +<p>“It’s almost providential my being in the hospital +like this,” went on Molly, “it’s rested me so. +You see, I was terribly worried about something +when I came here.”</p> + +<p>“And you aren’t worried any longer?”</p> + +<p>“No; I’ve conquered it. I know it’s got to be +faced; but I believe there will be a way out of it, +and I’m not frightened any more. I have always +had a kind of blind faith like that when things +look very black.”</p> + +<p>“You are talking of the emerald ring, aren’t +you, Molly?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, Mary. I know it hasn’t been found, of +course. I can tell that by the girls’ faces, and I +know that Judith Blount is—well, she is your +friend, Mary——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; not now,” put in Mary. “We’ve had +a—er—difference of opinion that has—well, not +to put too fine a point on it, broken up our friendship. +I always admired her, without ever really +liking her.”</p> + +<p>Molly looked at Mary and a very tender expression +came into her heavenly blue eyes.</p> + +<p>“Was the difference about me?” she asked +presently.</p> + +<p>Mary hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Molly; since you force me to tell you, it +was.”</p> + +<p>“She has been saying some horrid things? Of +course, I knew she would. I was prepared for +that. And I could tell——” Molly paused. “No, +no, I mustn’t!” she exclaimed hastily.</p> + +<p>“What could you tell, Molly?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t ask me. I would never speak to myself +again, if I did tell. She has been saying that +I never lost the ring, that I was poor and needed +the money, and things like that. Tell me honestly, +isn’t that the truth?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary nodded her head and frowned. There +was a silence, and presently Mary’s strong, +brown fingers closed over Molly’s slender ones.</p> + +<p>“Molly,” she began in a business-like tone of +voice, “I’m almost glad that this subject has +come up because I came here really to——” she +broke off. “It’s very hard,” she began again. +“I hardly know how to put it. You knew, Molly, +dear, that I was rich, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; I guessed you must be, although +you have been careful not to mention it yourself. +You’re the most high-bred, finest girl I ever +knew, Mary,” she added impetuously.</p> + +<p>Mary laughed.</p> + +<p>“That’s nice of you to say such things, dear, +because I haven’t but one ancestor on my paternal +side and that’s father, but he’s generations +in himself, he’s so splendid. But to go on, Molly, +dear, I am rich, not ordinarily rich, but enormously, +vastly rich. It’s absurd, really, because +we’ll never spend it, and we don’t care a rap +about saving it; but whatever father touches just +turns to gold.”</p> + +<p>“I wish he’d touch something for me,” laughed +Molly, wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Now, listen to me, dear, and don’t interrupt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +Father adores me to that extent that I could +spend any amount of money and he would just +smile and say: ‘Go ahead, little Mary, go as far +as you like.’ But, you see, I only want a few +very nice things, consequently, I can’t be extravagant +to save my life.”</p> + +<p>Molly laughed aloud at this naïve confession.</p> + +<p>“The point I’m coming to is this, Molly: Judith +Blount is being exceedingly horrid over that +ring. I believe myself it will be found eventually. +But until it is found, I want you—now don’t interrupt +me and don’t carry on, please—I want +you to ask her the value of her old ring and give +her the money for it. If she chooses to be ill-bred, +she must be treated with ill-bred methods.”</p> + +<p>“But, dearest Mary, I can’t——” began +Molly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you can. I haven’t known you but a few +months, Molly, but I’ve learned to love you in +that time. And when I really care for any one, +which is seldom, she becomes a sister to me. You +are my little sister, and shall always be. I shall +never change. And between sisters there must +be no foolish pride. Now, Molly, I want to settle +this thing with Judith Blount once and for all, +through you, of course. She is not to know I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +had anything to do with it. You must tell her +that you have raised the money and would like +to pay her the full value of the ring. When the +ring is found, she can give you back the money. +That will stop her wicked, wagging tongue, at +least.”</p> + +<p>Molly tried hard not to cry, but the tears welled +up in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She +took Mary’s hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could kiss you, dearest Mary,” she +sobbed; “but you see, I’ve got such a bad cold.”</p> + +<p>How could she thank Mary for her generous +offer or explain that her family would never allow +her to accept the money, even if she felt she +could herself?</p> + +<p>“You are the finest, noblest, most generous +girl,” she went on brokenly.</p> + +<p>“No, I’m not,” said Mary. “It’s easy to do +things for people we love and easier still when +we have the money to do it with. If I hadn’t +been so fond of you, Molly, and had been obliged +to deny myself besides, that would have been +generosity. This is only a pleasure. A sort of +self-gratification, because I’ve adopted you, you +see, as my little sister.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly lay quietly for a while with her cheek +pressed against Mary’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Are you thinking it over?” asked Mary at +last, patting her cheek.</p> + +<p>“I’m thinking how happy I am,” answered +Molly.</p> + +<p>“As soon as you are well, then,” went on Mary, +rising to go, “you must have an interview with +Judith and settle the whole thing.”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled up at her friend and squeezed her +hand.</p> + +<p>There are times when two friends need not +speak to express what they think.</p> + +<p>“Even if I never win the three golden apples,” +she reflected after Mary had gone, “I have won +three friends that are as true as gold.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br /> + +<small>MISS STEEL.</small></h2> + + +<p>With the wonderful powers of recuperation +which natures like Molly’s have, on Sunday morning +she was up and dressed, almost dancing about +her room in the infirmary, long before it was +time for Dr. McLean to call and grant her permission +to leave.</p> + +<p>It was good to be up and well again; it was +good to be at college, for she had been homesick +for Wellington since she had been shut up in the +hospital, and better still, it was good to have +friends, such friends as she had.</p> + +<p>As for the emerald ring—a shadow darkened +her face. The thought of the emerald ring would +push its way into her mind.</p> + +<p>“I believe it will come out all right,” she said +to herself. “I believe it—I believe it! I couldn’t +help losing it, and if it isn’t found, I can’t help +that, either. I just won’t be miserable, that’s all. +I feel too happy and too well.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Are you at home to visitors this morning, +Miss Brown?” asked a sharp unmusical voice at +the door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; do come in,” answered Molly, rising +to meet Miss Steel, who had walked up the uncarpeted +steps and along the echoing corridor +without making a sound, as usual.</p> + +<p>Molly’s manners were unfailingly cordial to +visitors, and when she shook hands with Miss +Steel and insisted on making her take the armchair, +that flint-like person visibly softened a little +and faintly smiled. Molly wondered why the +sanitary inspector had called on her, but she appreciated +attentions from anybody and was as +grateful for being popular as if it were something +entirely new and strange to her.</p> + +<p>She showed Miss Steel her flowers and pinned +a lovely pink rose on the inspector’s granite-colored +cloth coat. She made light of her illness, +and rejoiced that she was returning in a few +hours to dear old Queen’s. She was, in fact, so +wonderfully sweet and charming that Sunday +morning that it must have been very difficult even +for the stony inspector to touch on the real business +of her visit.</p> + +<p>At last, however, Miss Steel buckled on her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +armor of decision, averted her eyes for a moment +from Molly’s glowing face and plunged in.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose, Miss Brown, you suspected +my title of ‘Dormitory Inspector’ here was +merely a nominal one, and that I had another motive +in being at Wellington College?”</p> + +<p>Molly hardly liked to tell her that they had +long considered her a spy and detested her for +that reason. She said nothing, therefore, and sat +in her favorite position when listening intently +with her hands clasping one knee and her shoulders +drooping; a very wrong position indeed, +considering that it would eventually make her +round-shouldered and hollow chested; but Molly +was never more graceful or comfortable than +when she adopted this unhealthful attitude.</p> + +<p>“I am an inspector,” went on the other, “but I +am an inspector of police, that is, a detective. +Doubtless you have heard of certain mysterious +things that have happened at Wellington this +autumn; the attempt to burn the gymnasium, +which we now believe was only a practical joke +to frighten the sophomore class; the cutting of +the electric wires one night, and there are a few +other things you have not heard; for instance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Miss Walker has received lately several anonymous +letters—two of them about you——”</p> + +<p>Molly started.</p> + +<p>“About me?” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Miss Steel, watching her closely. +“But they were not disagreeable letters, strange +to say, since anonymous letters usually are. They +expressed the most ardent admiration for you. +They mentioned that you had enemies who were +trying to ruin your reputation.”</p> + +<p>“How absurd!” exclaimed Molly indignantly. +She detested anything deceitful and underhand +with all her soul. “When did these letters come?”</p> + +<p>“Just since you have been at the Infirmary.”</p> + +<p>“They must be about the emerald ring,” broke +in Molly.</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” answered the inspector. “You have +lost a valuable emerald ring belonging to another +girl who is making it disagreeable for you.”</p> + +<p>“But I didn’t want to take care of her ring,” +protested Molly. “She insisted on it. It was too +big for my finger, and when I fainted it must +have slipped off. I’ve done everything I could +to find it, but she needn’t worry. She’ll be paid +for it, if two acres of good apple orchard that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +were to have paid my college expenses have to +go.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, child!” exclaimed Miss Steel, suddenly +melting into a human being. “I’m going +to find that ring for you if it takes the rest of +this winter.”</p> + +<p>Molly seized her hand joyfully. By one of +those swift flashes of insight which come to us +when we least expect them, it was revealed to +Molly that she had made a friend of the inspector.</p> + +<p>“I have been here almost a month,” continued +Miss Steel, giving the girl’s hand a little vicelike +squeeze, which was her way of expressing cordiality, +“and I have found out a great many +things. A girls’ college is a strange place. +There is a good deal of wire-pulling and petty +jealousy among a certain class of girls, and yet +I have reason to know that the code of honor here +is exceedingly high, and I find myself growing +more and more interested in the girls and their +lives. Nowhere but in college could such devoted +friendships be formed. They are elevating +and fine, especially for selfish girls, who learn +how to be unselfish by example. The girls develop +each other. Your G. F. Society, for instance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +has had a remarkably refining and, shall +I say, quieting effect on Miss Andrews——”</p> + +<p>Molly started. She was amazed at the inspector’s +insight into the college life.</p> + +<p>“Which brings me to the point I have been +aiming to reach. Since I have been here I have +taken pains to learn the history of Miss Andrews +as well as to study her character. She is a +strange girl. Doubtless you know the incident +of last year?”</p> + +<p>Molly shook her head.</p> + +<p>“To begin at the beginning: Miss Andrews’ +parents were rather strange people. Her father +is a city politician who never made any secret of +his grafting methods. Her mother was an +actress and is dead. Frances hadn’t been +brought up to any code of honor. She had been +allowed to do as she chose, and had all the money +she wanted to spend. If she is vulgar and pretentious, +it isn’t really her fault. Last year she +offended her class by telling a falsehood. She +was under honor, according to the custom here +when a student leaves the premises, to be back +from some visit by ten o’clock Sunday night. She +missed the ten o’clock train and took the train +which arrived at midnight. However, as luck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +would have it, the ten o’clock train was delayed +by a washout and drew into Wellington station +just in front of the train Frances was on. She, +of course, found this out immediately, and taking +advantage of it, she gave out that she had been +on the earlier train, which saved all unnecessary +explanations. It must have been a great temptation +for a girl brought up as she had been. But +truth always comes to the top, sooner or later, +and as the President of her own class happened +to have been on the earlier train, she was found +out. She was summoned by the Student Council, +tried and found guilty. Then she was treated, I +imagine, something in the same way that a +French soldier is expelled from the army. Figuratively +speaking, her sword was broken and +her epaulettes torn from her uniform!”</p> + +<p>“How terrible!” exclaimed Molly.</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was pretty severe. But she was very +defiant, and said dreadful things, denounced her +class and college. Few girls would have had the +courage to return to college next year, but she +came back, hoping to live her dishonor down, and +when she found her class to a member ignored +her very existence, she became almost insane with +bitterness and rage, and having studied her character<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +closely, I judge that for a while, until your +secret society took her in hand, she was hardly +responsible for her actions.</p> + +<p>“Now, Miss Walker is very sorry for Frances +Andrews; but she considers her a dangerous element +in college, and at mid-years she would like +some definite reason for asking her not to come +back. I am speaking plainly, because Miss Walker +is convinced that you know a definite reason +and through some mistaken idea of kindness, you +keep it to yourself. In fact, Miss Brown, Miss +Walker is convinced that you and you alone saw +Frances Andrews cut the wires in the gymnasium +that night.”</p> + +<p>“But I didn’t,” cried Molly, much excited; “or, +rather, it wasn’t Miss Andrews.”</p> + +<p>Miss Steel looked at her in surprise, so sure +was she that Molly would confirm her suspicions.</p> + +<p>Molly sat down again and clasped her knees +with her long arms. Her cheeks were crimson +and her eyes blazing.</p> + +<p>“Who was it, then?” asked the inspector.</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell you that, Miss Steel. If I should +give you the girl’s name I should be dishonored +all my life. I have been brought up to believe +that the one who tells is as low as the one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +did the deed. When we were children, my mother +would never listen to a telltale. I do think it +was a wicked, mischievous thing to have done—a +contemptible thing; but I’d rather you found out +the name of the girl in some other way than +through me, especially right now——”</p> + +<p>“Why right now?”</p> + +<p>But Molly would not reply.</p> + +<p>Miss Steel could see nothing but truth in the +depths of Molly’s troubled blue eyes. She took +the girl’s hand in her’s and looked at her gravely.</p> + +<p>“You are a fine girl, Miss Brown,” she said, +“and if you tell me that the girl who cut the +wires was not Miss Andrews, I believe you implicitly. +Of course, Miss Walker would never +tell Miss Andrews not to return to Wellington +without something very definite and tangible on +which to base her dismissal. Luke Andrews, the +girl’s father, is as hot-headed and high tempered +as his daughter, and he would probably make a +great deal of trouble and cause a great deal of +publicity if Frances were asked to leave college +quietly.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry for her,” said Molly. “I think she +might have been helped if she had had just a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +little more time. After all, the worse thing +about her is her bringing up.”</p> + +<p>“And this other girl whom you are shielding, +Miss Brown, does she deserve so much generosity +from you?”</p> + +<p>Molly closed her lips firmly.</p> + +<p>“That isn’t the question with me, Miss Steel,” +she said at last. “The question is: could I ever +show my face again if I told.”</p> + +<p>“But no one need ever know, that is, no one +but the President and me.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t understand,” said Molly wearily. +“It’s with me, you see. I could never be on comfortable +terms with myself again. I should always +be thinking that I hadn’t behaved—well, +like a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>Then the inspector did a most surprising +thing. She went over and kissed Molly.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t for worlds keep you from being +true to yourself, my child,” she exclaimed. “It’s +a rare quality, and one which will make you devoted +friends all your life, because people will +always know they can trust you.”</p> + +<p>Molly looked at the inspector, and lo and behold, +a strange transformation had taken place +in that inscrutable, expressionless face. The cold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +gray eyes were softened by a mist of tears and +the thin lips were actually quivering. She looked +almost beautiful at that moment, and Molly suddenly +put her arms around her neck and laid her +head on the flat, hard chest.</p> + +<p>“You’ll forgive me, won’t you, Miss Steel?”</p> + +<p>“I will, indeed, dear,” answered the other, patting +Molly’s cheek. “And now, don’t bother +about all this business. Get well and strong. +Don’t overwork, and I promise to find that ring +for you if I have to turn the college upside down +to do it.”</p> + +<p>Then she gave Molly a warm, motherly +squeeze, kissed her on the forehead and took her +departure as quietly as she had come.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> + +<small>A BACHELOR’S POCKET.</small></h2> + + +<p>Miss Steel was a very busy woman that afternoon. +She was shut up with Judy Kean for half +an hour; she visited the livery stable in the village, +she paid a call on Dr. McLean and finally +she went to see Professor Green.</p> + +<p>It is in Professor Green’s study on the Cloisters +that we now find her, sitting bolt upright +in her chair, alert and bright-eyed. At such +times as this, Miss Steel is not unlike a hunting +dog on the scent of his quarry.</p> + +<p>Professor Green sits at his desk. He looks +tired, and his heavy reddish eyebrows are drawn +together in a frown. When the inspector came +into the room he had pushed a pile of manuscript +under some loose papers, but a sheet had +slipped off and now lay in plain view. Across it +was written in a bold hand:</p> + +<p>“Exeunt FAIRIES in disorder, leaving +WOOD SPRITE at Left Centre.</p> + +<p>“THE SONG OF THE WOOD SPRITE.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I hope you will pardon this intrusion, Professor. +I see you are very busy,” the inspector +began, glancing at the manuscript with a look +of some slight amusement.</p> + +<p>The Professor hastily covered up the sheet.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” he said politely; “I’m just idling +away a little time. What can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>He had seen Miss Steel about the building and +most of the Faculty knew her by this time as +“Inspector of Dormitories.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember helping a young lady who +fainted on the day of the football game?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, certainly,” replied the Professor, absent-mindedly +fingering a paper cutter.</p> + +<p>“You lent her your overcoat that afternoon, +didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes; I believe I did.”</p> + +<p>“Have you worn the coat since?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” he answered, laughing; “every +day, and several times a day. It’s the only one +I have. Are you a detective?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Do you ever put things in the pockets +of your coat?”</p> + +<p>The Professor smiled shamefacedly like a +schoolboy culprit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>“In one of them. There’s been a hole in the +other one for a long time—two years at least.”</p> + +<p>“Would you mind letting me see that coat?”</p> + +<p>He lifted the blue overcoat from a hook on the +door and placed it on a chair beside Miss Steel.</p> + +<p>“Am I a suspect?” he asked politely. “Has +anything been lost?”</p> + +<p>The detective seized the overcoat and began +rummaging through the pockets with a practised +hand.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered; “something has been +lost, and extremely disagreeable things have been +said by the owner about it.”</p> + +<p>“About me?” asked the Professor, still groping +in the dark.</p> + +<p>“No, no; about the girl who lost it.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown?”</p> + +<p>The detective did not reply. She had run her +hand through the hole in the pocket and was now +searching the corners between the lining and the +cloth.</p> + +<p>“Ha!” she cried at last, exactly like the detective +in a play. “Here it is!”</p> + +<p>With a swift movement she extricated her +hand from the bottomless pocket and displayed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +between her thumb and forefinger a large emerald +ring.</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s the ring of my cousin, Judith +Blount!” exclaimed the Professor in amazement. +“And I have had it in my pocket all this time. +Great heavens! what an extraordinary thing, and +how did it get there?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Blount forced Miss Brown to take +charge of it while she was playing football. +After Miss Brown came to from her faint, she +must have been very cold and slipped her hands +in the pockets of this coat for warmth——”</p> + +<p>“She did,” confirmed the Professor.</p> + +<p>“And the ring slipped off. When she found +it was lost she got up at dawn next day and +went out in her slippers in the snow to find it, +and nearly caught her death. But she’s had no +thanks for her trouble from your relation, I can +assure you. Nothing but abuse——”</p> + +<p>“What!” shouted the Professor. “You mean +to say that Judith has dared to insinuate——”</p> + +<p>“She has,” said Miss Steel.</p> + +<p>“And she whom Miss Brown has shielded—great +heavens! this is too much.”</p> + +<p>He began walking up and down the room in a +rage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Shielded from what?”</p> + +<p>“I am not at liberty to tell you,” he replied. +“The girl repented of what she did. I know +that, but she’s an ungrateful little wretch.”</p> + +<p>A scholarly professor of English literature, +however, is no match for a well-trained detective, +and with a knowing smile on her lips the inspector +rose to leave.</p> + +<p>“You may return the ring,” she said. “It will +be a great relief to Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky +to know it has been found. She was about +to give up two acres of good apple orchard to +pay for it; the land, in fact, which was to provide +the money for her college expenses.”</p> + +<p>And with that she sailed out of the room and +went straight to the home of President Walker, +with whom she spent the better part of an hour.</p> + +<p>Professor Green followed close on her heels. +He did not pause at Miss Walker’s pretty stucco +residence, however, but hastened down the campus +and rang the bell at Queen’s Cottage.</p> + +<p>Miss Brown was in, he learned from the maid. +She had only arrived from the Infirmary that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>The Professor waited in the sitting room deserted +by the students at that hour, those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +were not studying in their rooms being at Vespers. +Presently Molly appeared, looking very +slender and tall, like a pale flower swaying on its +stalk.</p> + +<p>The Professor rushed up and seized her hand +unceremoniously.</p> + +<p>“My dear child!” he cried, “how am I ever +going to make my apologies to you for all this +trouble of which I have been the unconscious +cause?”</p> + +<p>“For what——” began Molly, too much astonished +to finish her question.</p> + +<p>“The ring! The ring! It’s been concealed in +the ragged lining of my shabby old overcoat all +this time, and that clever detective of dormitories, +or whatever she is, ferreted it out just +now. Perhaps I should have thought of it myself; +but, you see, I hadn’t even heard the ring +had been lost. I am afraid you suffered a great +deal.”</p> + +<p>“I did at first; but after I grew better I never +let myself slip back into that state again. I kept +believing it would be found. I was so sure of it +that I haven’t really been unhappy at all. You +see, everybody is so beautifully kind and no one +believed——”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Great heavens!” interrupted the Professor, +storming excitedly around the room, “that ungrateful, +wicked girl to have made such an accusation—she +shall hear from me what she owes +to you! I’ll take the ring to her myself later. +She is my cousin, and her brother is as near to +me as my own brother, but——”</p> + +<p>“You aren’t going to tell Prexy?” cried Molly.</p> + +<p>“I must. Besides, I nearly gave it away to +Miss Steel.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, if that’s the case, she knows already. +She’s a detective, and if you let two +words slip, she can easily guess the rest. There’s +no keeping anything from her. You may be +sure Prexy knows it by this time.”</p> + +<p>“I’m rather relieved,” said the Professor. +“Judith will probably be well punished; but she +should be.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve always wondered,” said Molly, after a +short pause, “why Judith did it.”</p> + +<p>The Professor looked at her closely with his +humorous brown eyes.</p> + +<p>“Have you no idea why?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Except for mischief and to annoy the +seniors,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Possibly,” he said. “A girl who has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +spoiled and petted as she has will give in to almost +any whim that seizes her. However, such +actions are not tolerated at Wellington, and she +will have to learn a few pretty stiff lessons if she +expects to remain here.”</p> + +<p>Then Professor Green shook hands with +Molly, gave her a little paternal advice about +taking care of her health, and took his departure. +His next destination was the President’s +house, where he waited in the drawing-room until +Miss Steel had terminated her interview. He +was prepared for a round scolding from his old +friend, who had known him since his early +youth, but the President was inclined to be +lenient with the young man.</p> + +<p>“It all goes to show,” she said at the end of +the interview, “that murder will out. But why +did the foolish girl do that mischievous thing? +What did she have to gain by it?”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Jealous of some one prettier and more popular +than herself, probably,” he answered.</p> + +<p>The President sighed.</p> + +<p>“Who can understand the intricacies of a +young girl’s heart,” she said. “I have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +studying them for twenty years, and they are +still a closed book to me.”</p> + +<p>When Professor Green a little later returned +the emerald ring to his cousin, he cut the visit +as short as possible. He told her that she had +deliberately and wrongfully accused one who had +shielded her even at the risk of offending the +President of Wellington College, and that it was +he who had given the detective, already suspicious, +the clue she wanted.</p> + +<p>Judith wept bitterly, but her cousin showed no +signs of relenting.</p> + +<p>“If you want to be loved,” he said, “learn unselfishness +and gentleness and truthfulness. +These are the qualities that make men and +women beloved. You will never gain anything +by cheating and lying.”</p> + +<p>The end of the episode was a pretty severe +punishment for Judith Blount. She was suspended +from college for three weeks and was +compelled to resign from all societies for the rest +of the winter. She left college next morning +early, and no one saw her again until after +Christmas, when she returned a much chastened +and quieted young woman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></p> + +<p>A few days after she had gone Molly received +a note from her from New York. It read:</p> + +<div class="smallnote"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Brown</span>:</p> + +<p>“Will you forgive me? I am very unhappy.</p> + +<p><span class="rght1">“Judith Blount.”</span><br /></p></div> + +<p>You may be sure that Molly’s reply was +prompt and forgiving.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> + +<small>CHRISTMAS—MID-YEARS—AND THE WANDERTHIRST.</small></h2> + + +<p>There are few lonelier and more dismal experiences +in life than Christmas away from home +for the first time. Molly felt her heart sink as +the great day approached. One morning a trainload +of chattering, laughing girls pulled out of +the Wellington station. Judy hanging recklessly +to the last step, waved her handkerchief until +Molly’s figure grew indistinct in the distance, +and Nance on the crowded platform called out +again and again, “Good-bye, Molly, dear. Good-bye!”</p> + +<p>Molly almost regretted that she had ever left +Kentucky, as the Christmas train became a point +of black on the horizon.</p> + +<p>“I might have ended my days as a teacher in +a country school-house and been happier than +this,” she thought desperately, starting back to +college.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some one came running up behind her. It was +Mary Stewart who had been down to see some +classmates off. She was to take the night train +to New York.</p> + +<p>“When do you get off?” she asked, slipping +her arm through Molly’s like the good comrade +she was. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave yesterday, +with such a long journey before you.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not going home this Christmas,” replied +Molly.</p> + +<p>“Not going?” began Mary. “You’re to be left +at Queen’s by yourself?”</p> + +<p>Molly nodded, vainly endeavoring to smile +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Then you’re to go with me. I’ll come right +along now and help you pack,” announced Mary +decisively.</p> + +<p>“But, Mary, I can’t. I haven’t anything—money +or clothes——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say ‘but’ to me! I’ve got everything. +I’ve even got the drawing-room to myself on the +night train to New York. You shall go with me. +I don’t know why I never thought of it before. +We’ll have a beautiful Christmas together. +Since mother’s death, five years ago, Christmas +has been a dismal time at our house. You’ll be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +just the person to cheer us up. It will be like +having a child in the house. You shall have a +Christmas tree and hang up your stocking. Father +will be delighted and so will Brother +Willie.”</p> + +<p>Thus overruled, Molly was borne triumphantly +to New York that same evening, and spent one +of the most wonderful Christmases of her life in +Mary’s beautiful home on Riverside Drive. As +her mother and godmother both wisely sent her +checks for Christmas gifts, she was not embarrassed +by any lack of ready money. She was +even rich enough to purchase a new evening +dress and a pretty blouse which Mary had ordered +to be sent up on approval, and not for +many a year afterward did she guess why those +charming things happened to be such bargains. +But Molly was a very inexperienced young person, +and knew little concerning prices at that +time.</p> + +<p>Mary’s father was a fine man, quiet and self-contained, +with a splendid rugged face. He +treated his only daughter with indescribable tenderness, +and called her “Little Mary.” They did +not see much of “Brother Willie,” a sophomore +at Yale, and very busy enjoying his holiday. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +regarded Molly as a child and his sister as an old +maid, but condescended to take them to the theatre +twice.</p> + +<p>But all good things must come to an end, and +it seemed just a little while before Molly found +herself back at her old desk in her room at +Queen’s, writing a “bread-and-butter” letter to +Mr. Stewart, which pleased him mightily, since +Mary’s guests had never before taken that +trouble.</p> + +<p>Judy came back radiantly happy. She had had +a glorious time in Washington with her “vagabond” +parents, as she called them. Nance, too, +had enjoyed her Christmas with her father and +busy mother, who had come home to rest during +the holidays. Only one of Queen’s girls did not +join the jolly circle that now congregated in the +most hospitable room in the house to “swap” +holiday experiences. But a letter had arrived +from the missing member addressed to “Miss M. +C. W. Brown,” and beginning: “My Dear Molly +Brown.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Good-bye,” the letter ran. “I’m off for +Europe and Grandmamma, by the <cite>Kismet</cite>, sailing +the eighteenth. I am afraid I was too much +like a bull in a china shop at college. I was always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +breaking something, mostly rules. I’ve +done lots of foolish things, and I am sorry. They +were jokes, of course, most of them, and intended +to frighten silly self-important people. I’ve +learned a great deal from you and your friends, +but I’d rather practice my new wisdom on other +people. If you ever see me again you’ll find me +changed. I may enter a convent for a few years +in France and learn to keep quiet. You did what +you could for me, and so did the others. You +are a first rate lot and you make a jolly good +freshman class. I shall miss you, and I shall +miss old Wellington. I wouldn’t have come back +this year if I hadn’t felt the call of its two gray +towers. Somehow, it’s been more of a home to +me than most places, and when I’m quite old and +forgotten I shall go back and see it again some +day. Good-bye again, and good luck. I’ve told +Mrs. Murphy to give you my Persian prayer +rug. It’s just your color of blue.</p> + +<p><span class="rght1">“F. Andrews.”</span><br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Molly read the letter aloud and the girls were +half sorry and half relieved over its contents. +After all, Frances was a very disturbing element, +but as Margaret Wakefield announced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +later at a meeting of the G. F. Society, she had +responded to kind treatment, and she, Margaret, +moved that they send her a combination steamer +letter of farewell and a bunch of violets to cheer +her on her lonely voyage. The movement was +promptly seconded by Molly, carried by universal +acclaim, and the resolution put into effect immediately.</p> + +<p>After Christmas comes the terror of every +freshman’s heart—the mid-year examinations. +As the dreaded week approached, lights burned +late in every house on the campus and nobody +offered any interference. Behind closed doors +sat scores of weary maidens with pale concentrated +faces bent over text-books.</p> + +<p>Judy Kean made a record at Queen’s. She +crammed history for thirty-six hours at a +stretch, only stopping for food occasionally or to +snatch a half hour’s nap.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday and bitter cold. Examinations +were to begin on Monday, and there yet remained +two more blessed days of respite. Molly, +in a long, gray dressing gown, with a towel +wrapped around her head, had been cramming +mathematics since six in the morning, and now +at eleven o’clock, she lifted her eyes from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +hated volume and looked about her with a dazed +expression as if she had suddenly awakened from +a black dream. Nance had hurried into the room.</p> + +<p>“Molly, for heaven’s sake, go to Judy. I think +she’s losing her mind. She has overstudied and +it has affected her brain. I can’t do anything +with her at all.”</p> + +<p>“What?” cried Molly, rushing down the hall, +her long, gray wrapper trailing after her in +voluminous folds.</p> + +<p>She opened Judy’s door unceremoniously and +marched in.</p> + +<p>The room looked as if a cyclone had struck it. +The contents of the bureau drawers were +dumped onto the floor; the closet was emptied, +clothes and books piled about on the bed and +chairs, and Judy’s two trunks filled up what floor +space remained.</p> + +<p>Judy herself was working feverishly. She +had packed a layer of books in one of the trunks +and was now folding up her best dresses.</p> + +<p>“Julia Kean, what are you doing?” cried +Molly in a stern voice.</p> + +<p>Judy gave her a constrained nod.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bother me now. There’s a dear. I’m +in a dreadful hurry.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly shook her violently by the shoulder. She +had a feeling that Judy was asleep and must be +waked up.</p> + +<p>“Get up from there this minute and answer my +question,” she commanded.</p> + +<p>“What was your question?” asked Judy with +an embarrassed little laugh. “Oh, yes, you asked +what I was doing. I should think you could see +I wasn’t gathering cowslips on the campus.”</p> + +<p>“Are you running away, Judy?” asked Molly, +trying another tack.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my Mariucci,” cried Judy, quoting a +popular song, “‘<cite>I’m gona packa my trunk and +taka my monk and sail for sunny It.</cite>’”</p> + +<p>Molly refused even to smile at this witticism.</p> + +<p>“I know what you’re doing,” she exclaimed. +“You are running away from examinations. +You’re a coward. You are no better than a deserter +from the army in time of war. It’s bad +enough in time of peace, but just before the battle—I’m +so ashamed and disappointed in you +that I can hardly understand how I ever could +have loved you so much.”</p> + +<p>Judy went on stolidly packing, rolling her +clothes into little bundles and stuffing them in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +anywhere she could find a place between her numerous +books.</p> + +<p>“Have you lost your nerve, Judy, dear?” said +Molly, after a minute, kneeling down beside her +friend and seizing her hands.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said Judy, extricating her +hands, and speaking in a hard, strained voice in +an effort to keep from breaking down. “I’d +rather not stay here and be disgraced by flunking, +but there’s another reason beside that, Molly. +I know I look like a deserter and deserve to be +shot, but there’s another reason,” she wailed; +“there’s another good reason.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy, dearest, what can it be?” asked +Molly gently.</p> + +<p>“They’re going to Italy,” she burst out. +“They’re sailing on Monday. I got the letter to-day, +and, oh, I can’t stand it—I can’t endure it. +They’ll be in Sicily in a few weeks—and without +me! Mamma hates the cold. So do I. I’m +numb now with it. Oh, Molly, they’ll be sailing +without me, and I want to go. You can’t understand +what the feeling is. There is something in +me that is calling all the time, and I can’t help +hearing it and answering. In my mind I can live +through every bit of the voyage. At first it’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +cold, bitter cold, and then after a few days we +get into the Gulf Stream and gradually it grows +warmer. Even in the winter time the air is soft +and smells of the south. At last the Azores +come—cunning little islands snuggling down out +there in the Atlantic—and finally you see a long +line of coast—it’s Africa; then Gibraltar and the +Mediterranean—oh, Molly—and Algiers, lovely +Algiers, nestling down between the hills and +looking across such a harbor! You can see the +domes of the mosques as you sail in and Arab +boys come out in funny little boats and offer to +row you to shore. It’s delightfully warm and +you smell flowers everywhere. The sky is a deep +blue. It’s like June. And then, after Algiers, +comes Italy——”</p> + +<p>Judy had risen to her feet now, and her eyes +had an uncanny expression in them. She appeared +to have lost sight entirely of the little +room at Queen’s, and through the chaos of books +and clothing, she was seeing a vision of the +South.</p> + +<p>“Come back to earth, Judy,” said Molly, gently +pulling her sleeve. “Wouldn’t your mother and +father be angry with you for giving up college +and joining them uninvited?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Angry?” cried Judy. “Of course not. Even +if I just caught the steamer, it would be all right, +they would fix it up somehow, and they would +be glad—oh, so glad! What a glorious time we +will have together. Perhaps we shall spend a +few weeks in Capri. I shall try and make them +stay a while in Capri. Such a view there is at +Capri across the Bay. Papa loves Naples. He +even loves its dirtiness and calls it ‘local color.’ +We’ll have to stay there a week to satisfy him, +and then mamma will make us go to Ravello. +She’s mad about it; and then I’ll have my choice—it’s +Venice, of course; but we’ll wait until it’s +warmer for Venice. April is perfect there, and +then Rome after Easter. Oh, Molly, Molly, help +me pack! I’m off—I’m off—isn’t it glorious, +Italy, when the spring begins, the roses and the +violets and the fresias——”</p> + +<p>Judy began running about the room, snatching +her things from the bed and chairs and tossing +them into the trunks helter-skelter. Molly +watched her in silence for a while. She must collect +her ideas, and think of something to say. +But not now. It was like arguing with a lunatic +to say anything now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last Judy’s feverish energy burned itself +out and she sat down on the bed exhausted.</p> + +<p>“So you’re going to give up four splendid +years at college and all the friends you’ve made—Nance +and me and Margaret and Jessie, and +nice old Sallie Marks and Mabel, all the fun and +the jolly times, the delightful, glorious life we +have here—and for what? For a three months’ +trip you have taken before, and will take again +often, no doubt. Just for three short, paltry +little months’ pleasure, you’re going to give up +things that will be precious to you for the rest +of your life. It’s not only the book learning, it’s +the associations and the friends——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why I should lose my friends,” +broke in Judy sullenly.</p> + +<p>“They’ll never be the same again. They +couldn’t after such a disappointment as this. You +see, you’ll always be remembered as a coward +who turned and ran when examinations came—you +lost your nerve and dropped out and even +pretty little Jessie has the courage to face it. Oh, +Judy, but I’m disappointed in you. It’s a hard +blow to come now when we’re all fighting to save +ourselves and pull through safely. And you—one +of the cleverest and brightest girls in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +class. Don’t tell me your father will be pleased. +He’ll be mortified, I’m certain of it. He’s much +too fine a man to admire a cowardly act, no matter +whose act it is. You’ll see. He’ll be shocked +and hurt. If he had thought it was right for +you to give up college on the eve of examinations, +he would have written for you to come. It +will be a crushing blow to him, Judy.”</p> + +<p>Judy lay on her bed, her hands clasped back +of her head. There was a defiant look on her +face, and she kicked the quilt up and down with +one foot, like an impatient horse pawing the +ground. Then, suddenly, she collapsed like a +pricked balloon. Burying her face in the pillows, +she began sobbing bitterly, her body shaking +convulsively with every sob. It was a terrible +sight to see Judy cry, and Molly hoped she would +be spared such another experience.</p> + +<p>Without saying another word, Molly began +quietly unpacking the trunks and putting the +things back in their places. Then she pulled the +empty trunks into the hall. This done, she filled +a basin with water, recklessly poured in an ample +quantity of Judy’s German cologne, and sitting +on the side of the bed, began bathing her +friend’s convulsed and swollen face. Gradually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +Judy’s sobs subsided, her weary eyelids drooped +and presently she dropped off into a deep, exhausted +sleep.</p> + +<p>Nance crept into the room.</p> + +<p>“She’s all right now,” whispered Molly. +“She’s had an attack of the ‘wanderthirst,’ but +it’s passed.”</p> + +<p>All day and all night Judy slept, and on Sunday +morning she was her old self once more, gay +and laughing and full of fun. That afternoon +she was an usher at Vespers in Wellington +Chapel, with Molly and Nance, and wore her best +suit and a big black velvet hat.</p> + +<p>She never alluded again to her attack of wanderthirst, +but her devotion to Molly deepened +and strengthened as the days flew by until it became +as real to her as her love for her mother +and father.</p> + +<p>Once in the midst of the dreaded examinations +they did not seem so dreadful after all. The girls +at Queen’s came out of the fight with “some +wounds, but still breathing,” as Margaret Wakefield +had put it. Molly had a condition in mathematics.</p> + +<p>“I got it because I expected it,” she said.</p> + +<p>But Judy came through with flying colors—not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +a single black mark against her. Jessie +barely pulled through, and her friends rejoiced +that the prettiest, most frivolous member of the +freshman class had made such a valiant fight +and won.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> + +<small>SOPHOMORES AT LAST.</small></h2> + + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“Freshman, arise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gird on thy sword!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Captivity is o’er.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To arms! To arms!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, lo! thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A daring sophomore!”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>The words of this stirring song floated in +through the open windows at Queen’s one warm +night in early June. Moonlight flooded the campus, +and the air was sweet with the perfume of +lilac and syringa.</p> + +<p>A group of sophomores had gathered in front +of the house to serenade the freshmen at +Queen’s, who had immediately repaired to the +piazza to acknowledge this unusual honor paid +them by their august predecessors.</p> + +<p>“I think it would be far more appropriate if +they sang:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘When all the saints who from their labors +rest,’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>remarked Mabel Hinton, who, in order to make +a record, had studied herself into a human skeleton.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Molly Brown, “when I left home +last September, one of my brothers cheerfully +informed me that I looked like ‘a rag and a bone +and a hank of hair.’ I am afraid I don’t feel +very saint-like now, because I have gained ten +pounds, and I’m not tired of anything, except +packing my clothes. I’m so sorry to leave blessed +old Queen’s that I could kiss her brown cheek, if +it didn’t look foolish.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go and kiss the side of the house then,” +put in Judy. “You have a poetic nature, Molly; +but I wouldn’t have it changed. I like it just as +it is.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” interrupted Margaret Wakefield, +“that Queen’s, from having once been +scorned as a residence, has now become a very +popular abode, and there were so many applications +for rooms here for next year that the registrar +has had to make a waiting list for the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +time in connection with Queen’s. Think of that +at old Queen’s!”</p> + +<p>“It’s because it’s the residence of a distinguished +person,” announced Molly. “I think we +should put a brass plate on the front door, stating +that in this house lived a class president who +possessed every attribute for the office. She +was versed in parliamentary law, she had an +executive mind, and she was beloved by all who +knew her.”</p> + +<p>Margaret was pleased at this compliment.</p> + +<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Voyons, voyons, que vous me flattez!”</i> she exclaimed. +“It’s your warm Southern nature that +makes you so enthusiastic. Now, the real reason +why old brown Queen’s, with her moldering +vines, is so popular all of a sudden is because +you are here.”</p> + +<p>It was Molly’s turn now to be pleased.</p> + +<p>“We won’t argue such a personal matter,” she +said, squeezing Margaret’s hand. “But I’m glad +I’m booked here for next year. I was afraid +Nance would want a ‘singleton,’ she has such a +retiring nun-like nature.”</p> + +<p>“Me?” exclaimed Nance, disregarding English +in her amazement. “Why, I’ve had the happiest +winter of my whole life with you, Molly. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +there’s a chance for another one like it, I’m only +too thankful.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly Mary Carmichael Washington +Brown is a modest soul,” thought Judy, who +happened to know that her friend had had some +five or six tempting offers to move into better +quarters the next year at no greater expense to +herself. One was from Mary Stewart, who was +to return next winter for a post-graduate course. +Another was from Judith Blount, who had proposed +Molly for membership in the Beta Phi Society +next year, and had furthermore invited the +surprised young freshman to take the study of +her apartment for a bedroom and offered her the +constant use of her sumptuous sitting room.</p> + +<p>Certainly, if ever there was an expression of +true remorse and repentance, that was one, Molly +thought, and the allusion to roommates reminded +her that she must say good-bye to Judith, for +there would be no time in the morning for last +farewells.</p> + +<p>“I am going over to the Beta Phi house for a +minute,” she announced. “Any one want to come +along?”</p> + +<p>Margaret and Jessie, who had friends in that +“abode of fashion,” as it was called, joined her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +and presently the three white figures were lost +in the shadows on the campus.</p> + +<p>“She is going to say farewell to black-eyed +Judith,” observed Judy in a low voice to Nance, +“and all I would say is what the colored preacher +said: ‘Can the le-o-pard change his spots?’”</p> + +<p>Nance smiled gravely. She did not possess +Judy’s prejudiced nature, but her convictions +were strong.</p> + +<p>“Do you think she’s a ‘le-o-pard,’ Judy?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“She may be a domesticated one,” said Judy, +“of the genus known as ‘cat.’”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you ashamed, Judy?” exclaimed +Nance, reprovingly.</p> + +<p>But it must be confessed that a few doubts +still lurked in her own heart concerning the sincerity +of proud Judith’s repentance.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the three freshmen had separated +in the upper hall of the Beta Phi House, +and Molly had given a timid rap with Judith’s +fine brass knocker.</p> + +<p>Instantly the door flew open and she found +herself precipitated into a roomful of people, at +least it seemed so at first, who had just subsided +into quiet because some one was going to play.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly was about to retreat in great confusion +when Miss Grace Green seized one hand and +Mary Stewart the other. Judith came forward +with a show of extreme cordiality and Richard +Blount left the piano and actually ran the full +length of the room, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>“It’s Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky!”</p> + +<p>Molly knew she was breaking into a party, +but there was nothing to do but make a call of +a few minutes and then take her leave as gracefully +as possible under the circumstances.</p> + +<p>Professor Edwin Green had also shaken her +by the hand warmly, and pushing up a chair had +insisted on her sitting down. They had all +drawn their chairs around her in a semicircle, +and Richard Blount had brought over the piano +stool and placed it directly in front of her so that +he could look straight at her.</p> + +<p>In fact, here sat the little freshman, blushing +crimson and painfully embarrassed, enthroned +in a large armchair, and gathered around her +was a circle of very delightful, not to say, admiring +persons.</p> + +<p>As one of these persons was Judith’s brother +and two were her near cousins, Molly thought +she could explain their excessive cordiality. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +knew the story of the ring and they were anxious +to make amends.</p> + +<p>She recalled, with a furtive inner smile, the +last time she was in those rooms, when, as a +waitress, she had upset the coffee on the Professor’s +knees. How glad she was that the painful +experience was well over and forgotten by now. +But she was glad about many things that evening. +She was happy to see that Mary and Judith +had made up their differences, and were +once more friends. She knew that Mary, who +had the kindest heart in the world, could never +stay angry long.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know that Judith was giving a +party,” Molly began, still very much embarrassed. +“I just dropped in to say good-bye because +I am leaving to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow morning?” repeated Richard +Blount. “Wasn’t it lucky for me you happened +in to-night. I had expected to call on you to-morrow +afternoon, and think how disappointed I +should have been to have found the nest empty +and the bird flown.”</p> + +<p>“So you are really off to-morrow?” broke in +Professor Green. “I am so sorry. I was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +to ask you to have tea in the Cloisters with my +sister and me in the afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Again Molly smiled to herself. Tea in the +Cloisters, with a distinguished professor and his +charming sister! Only nine months before she +had been a lonely, shivering little waif of a freshman +locked in the Cloisters. The words of the +sophomore “croak” came back to her:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“They have locked me in the Cloisters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have fastened up the gate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me out! Oh, let me out!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It’s growing very late.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>“I am sorry that my ticket is bought and my +berth engaged, and the expressman coming for +my trunk to-morrow at nine,” she said. “If all +those things were not so, I should love to drink +soup——” she stopped and flushed a deep red.</p> + +<p>What absurd trick of the mind had made her say +“soup”? “I mean tea,” she went on hastily, +hoping no one had heard the break.</p> + +<p>Miss Green was talking with Mary Stewart. +Richard Blount was twirling on the piano stool, +his hands deep in his pockets, and Judith was engaged +at a side table in pouring lemonade into +glasses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a twinkle of amusement in the Professor’s +brown eyes, and he gave Molly a delightful +smile.</p> + +<p>“I must be going,” she said anxiously, rising.</p> + +<p>“Not till you’ve had a glass of lemonade, for I +made it myself,” said Richard, gallantly handing +her one on a plate.</p> + +<p>Molly looked doubtfully toward Judith.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to be like that young man in +the rhyme,” she said.</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘There was a young man so benighted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He never knew when he was slighted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He’d go to a party and eat just as hearty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if he’d been really invited.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Everybody laughed, and Judith suddenly becoming +a model hostess, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Indeed, you must stay, Molly, and have some +lemonade. Richard didn’t make it at all. He +only squeezed the lemons.”</p> + +<p>Molly, therefore, remained and had a beautiful +time, and when she really did take her departure +the entire party, including Judith, escorted her +across the moonlit campus to the door of Queen’s. +But Molly was still certain that it was the ring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +episode and nothing else that made them all so +polite and attentive.</p> + +<p>And so she informed Nance and Judy that +night as she unlocked her trunk for the third +time in ten minutes to stuff in some overlooked +belonging.</p> + +<p>But Judy sniffed the air and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Ring, nothing! It’s popularity!”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled and went to bed, feeling that her +last day at Wellington had been a decided improvement +on the first one.</p> + +<p>The next morning Queen’s Cottage was a pandemonium +of trunks and bags and excited young +women, rushing up and down the halls. Cries +could be heard from every room in the house of:</p> + +<p>“The laundress hasn’t brought my shirtwaists! +Perfidious woman!”</p> + +<p>“The expressman’s here!”</p> + +<p>“Is your trunk strapped?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to sleep in an upper berth.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget to write me.”</p> + +<p>“Where are you to be this summer?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t get this top down and the trunk man’s +waiting!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, do hurry! We’ll miss the bus!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Young ladies, the bus is coming,” called the +voice of Mrs. Markham from the front door.</p> + +<p>And then, with a fluttering of handkerchiefs +and many a last call of “good-bye,” the bus-load +of girls moved sedately down the avenue.</p> + +<p>Molly, looking back at the twin gray towers of +Wellington, understood why Frances Andrews +wanted so much to return.</p> + +<p>“How glad I am to be only a sophomore,” she +cried. “I shall have three more years at Wellington!”</p> + + +<p class="center r4">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="l1"/> + +<div class="tnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b> Besides some minor printer’s errors the following +correction has been made: on page 172 “Professor” has been changed to +“President” (the doctor at one side, the <a href="#President">President</a> at the other). +Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistent +spelling and hyphenation.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Molly Brown's Freshman Days, by Nell Speed + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S FRESHMAN DAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 36684-h.htm or 36684-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/8/36684/ + +Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, +eagkw and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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