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diff --git a/36717-h/36717-h.htm b/36717-h/36717-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..13fe713 --- /dev/null +++ b/36717-h/36717-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8798 @@ +<!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"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Molly Brown's Junior 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;} +h1.pg {line-height: 100%; margin-top: 0em;} +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%;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.caption {font-size: 70%; font-weight: normal;} + +.r4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.star {text-align: center; letter-spacing: 1em; margin-left: 1em;} + +.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;} + +.tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + padding: .5em 1em .5em 1em; font-size: 80%;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Molly Brown's Junior Days, by Nell Speed, +Illustrated by Charles L. Wrenn</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Molly Brown's Junior Days</p> +<p>Author: Nell Speed</p> +<p>Release Date: July 12, 2011 [eBook #36717]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S JUNIOR DAYS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="center">E-text prepared by<br /> + Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan, eagkw,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcover"> +<img src="images/molly3cover.jpg" width="450" height="667" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/molly001.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="DID I FRIGHTEN YOU? I AM SORRY.—Page 35." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">DID I FRIGHTEN YOU? I AM SORRY.—<i>Page <a href="#Page_35">35.</a></i></span> +</div> + + +<h1>MOLLY BROWN’S<br /> +JUNIOR DAYS</h1> + +<p class="tp"><small>BY</small><br /> +<big>NELL SPEED</big><br /> +<small>AUTHOR OF “MOLLY BROWN’S FRESHMAN DAYS,” “MOLLY<br /> +BROWN’S SOPHOMORE DAYS,” ETC., ETC.</small></p> + +<p class="tp"><i>WITH FOUR HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> +By CHARLES L. WRENN</i></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </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">Daughters of Wellington</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">II.</td><td class="col2">Minerva Higgins</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">III.</td><td class="col2">In the Cloisters</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">IV.</td><td class="col2">A Literary Evening</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">V.</td><td class="col2">Various Happenings</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VI.</td><td class="col2">“The Best Laid Schemes”</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VII.</td><td class="col2">A Midnight Adventure</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">VIII.</td><td class="col2">Covering Their Tracks</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">IX.</td><td class="col2">The Grave Diggers</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">X.</td><td class="col2">A Visit of State</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XI.</td><td class="col2">A Swopping Party and a Mock Trial</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XII.</td><td class="col2">Alarms and Discoveries</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIII.</td><td class="col2">“The Moving Finger Writes”</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIV.</td><td class="col2">An Invitation and an Apology</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XV.</td><td class="col2">A Christmas Ghost Story That Was Never Told</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVI.</td><td class="col2">More Christmas Presents and a Coasting Party of Two</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_212">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVII.</td><td class="col2">The Wayfarers</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XVIII.</td><td class="col2">Healing the Blind</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XIX.</td><td class="col2">A Warning</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XX.</td><td class="col2">The Parable of the Sun and Wind</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col1">XXI.</td><td class="col2">The Junior Gambol</td><td class="col3"><a href="#Page_289">289</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">Did I frighten you? I am sorry</td><td class="col3"><i><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4"> </td><td class="col3"><span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">They set to work to dig a small grave for Judy’s +slipper</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly002">129</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">“And she’s given me a pair of silk stockings,” +cried Molly</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly003">213</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="col4">The next thing she knew she was buried deep in a +snow drift, and Judy was whizzing on alone</td><td class="col3"><a href="#molly004">224</a></td></tr> +</table></div> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>Molly Brown’s Junior Days</h1> + + +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br /> + +<small>DAUGHTERS OF WELLINGTON.</small></h2> + + +<p>No. 5 in the Quadrangle at Wellington College +was in a condition of upheaval. Surprising +things were happening there. The simultaneous +arrival of six trunks, five express boxes and a +piano had thrown the three orderly and not over-large +rooms into a state of the wildest confusion.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this mountain of luggage and +scattered boxes stood a small, lonely figure +dressed in brown, gazing disconsolately about.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I had been cast up by an earthquake +with a lot of other miscellaneous things,” +she remarked hopelessly.</p> + +<p>It was Nance Oldham, back at college by an +early train, and devoutly wishing she had waited +for the four-ten when the others were expected.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This is too much to face alone,” she continued. +“If it had been at Queen’s it never would +have happened. Mrs. Markham wouldn’t have +allowed six trunks and a piano and five boxes to +be piled into one room. And mine at the very +bottom, too. If it wasn’t a selfish act, I think I’d +leave everything and go call on Mrs. McLean—but, +no, that wouldn’t do on the first day.” Nance +blushed. “But Andy’s there to-day.” She +blushed again at this bold, outspoken thought. +“I shall get the janitor to come up here and distribute +these things,” she added presently, with +New England determination not even to peep at +a picture of pleasure behind a granite wall of +duty.</p> + +<p>The doors of No. 5 opened on a broad, high-ceiled +corridor, the side walls of which were +wainscoted halfway up with dark polished wood. +On either side of this corridor ranged the apartments +and single rooms of the Quadrangle, one +row facing the campus, the other the courtyard. +An occasional upholstered bench or high-backed +chair stood between the frequent doors and gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +a home-like touch to the long gallery. They had +been the gift of a rich ex-graduate.</p> + +<p>Nance, closing the door of No. 5, paused and +looked proudly down the polished vista of the +hallway, which curved at the far end and continued +its way on the other side of the Quadrangle.</p> + +<p>The sound of voices and laughter floated to +her through the half open doors of the other +rooms. With a smile of contentment, she sat +down in one of the high-backed chairs.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Wellington,” she said softly, “other +girls love their homes, but I love you.” Thus +she apostrophized the classic shades of the university +while her gaze lighted absently on a large +laundry bag stuffed full standing just outside +one of the doors. It was different from the usual +Wellington laundry bag, being of a peculiar shape +and of material covered with Japanese fans.</p> + +<p>“It’s Otoyo’s. Of course, she must have been +here since Monday. I heard she had spent the +summer down in the village.”</p> + +<p>She hastened along the green path of carpet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +running down the middle of the corridor and +paused at the room of the Japanese laundry bag.</p> + +<p>“Otoyo Sen,” she called. “Why don’t you come +out and meet your friends?”</p> + +<p>The Japanese girl was seated on the floor gazing +at a photograph. She rose quickly and flew +to the door, thrusting the picture behind her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am so deeply happee to see you again, +Mees Oldham,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“She has learned the use of adverbs,” thought +Nance, kissing Otoyo’s round dark cheek.</p> + +<p>“You see I have been studying long time. I +now speak the language with correctness. Do +you not think so?” said Otoyo, apparently reading +Nance’s thoughts.</p> + +<p>“Perfectly,” answered Nance. “But tell me +the news. Is Queen’s not to be rebuilt?”</p> + +<p>“No, no. Queen’s is to remain flat on the +ground. She will not be erected into another +building.”</p> + +<p>“And have you had a happy summer? Was it +quite lonesome for you, poor child?”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” protested Otoyo, still hiding the photograph<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +behind her. “Those who remained at +Wellington were most kind to little Japanese +girl.”</p> + +<p>“And who remained, Otoyo?”</p> + +<p>“Professor Green was here long time. I studied +the English language under him. He is a +great man. It is an honorable pleasure to learn +from one so great.”</p> + +<p>“He is, indeed. And who else? Any of the +rest of the faculty?”</p> + +<p>“No, no. They had all departing gone.”</p> + +<p>Nance smiled. There was still a relic of last +year’s English.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. McLean and her family remained at +Wellington through the entire summer,” went +on Otoyo fluently.</p> + +<p>“And were they nice to you, Otoyo?”</p> + +<p>“Veree, exceedinglee.”</p> + +<p>“Was Andy well?”</p> + +<p>“Quite, quite,” replied the Japanese girl, backing +off from Nance and slipping the photograph +into a book.</p> + +<p>Not for many a day did Nance find out that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +was a portrait of that youth himself, taken at the +age of eight in Scotch kilties and a little black +velvet hat with two streamers down the back.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Otoyo became very voluble. She +changed the subject and talked in rapid, smooth +English. Could she not see the new rooms of +her friends? She understood everybody was +coming down on the four-ten train. It would be +very crowded. She had found a new laundress +whom she could highly recommend.</p> + +<p>Nance looked at her curiously as they strolled +back to the other rooms. Something was changed +about the little Japanese girl. She seemed older +and much less timid.</p> + +<p>It was Miss Sen who found the man to move +the trunks, and who helped Nance unpack her +things and lay them in half the chest of drawers; +and it was Otoyo, also, who, with the skill of an +artisan, removed all the nails from the express +box tops so that they might be unpacked immediately +by their owners. At lunch time she led +Nance into the great dining hall of the Quadrangle +where more than a hundred girls ate their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +meals three times a day. There was no attention +she did not show to Nance, and all because her +conscience was heavy within her on account of +the one dishonorable act of her life. How could +she know that among the scores of photographs +taken of young Andy from his babyhood to his +present age, Mrs. McLean would never miss one +small, faded picture out of the pile thrust into a +cabinet drawer?</p> + +<p>At last it came time to meet the four-ten, and +Nance, looking spic and span in fresh white duck +and white shoes and stockings, was rather surprised +to find Otoyo also attired in a pretty white +dress, her face shaded with a Leghorn hat +trimmed with pink roses.</p> + +<p>“Why, Miss Sen,” she exclaimed, “how did you +learn so soon to dress yourself in this charming +American style?”</p> + +<p>“At a garden party at Mrs. McLean’s I learned +a very many things,” said Otoyo, “and by the +purchasing agent I have obtained dresses of summer, +of duckling, lining and musling; also this +hat and two others very pretty.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nance laughed.</p> + +<p>“You mean duck, linen and muslin, child,” she +said.</p> + +<p>When the four-ten train to Wellington pulled +into the station it seemed as if every student in +the university must be crowded inside. They +leaned from the windows and packed the doorways, +overflowing onto the platforms.</p> + +<p>The air vibrated with high feminine shrieks +of joy. Only the poor little freshies were silent +in all this jubilation of reunions. Suddenly +Nance, spying Molly Brown and Judy Kean, +rushed to meet them, Otoyo following at her +heels like a toy spaniel after a larger dog. There +was a long triangular embrace.</p> + +<p>“Well, here we are, <em>and juniors</em>,” was Judy’s +first comment. “Nance, you’re looking fine as +silk. No sign of travel on that snowy gown.”</p> + +<p>“There oughtn’t to be,” said Nance. “I just +put it on half an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>“And look at our little Jap,” cried Molly, hugging +Otoyo. “Look at little Miss Sen, all dressed +up in a beautiful linen.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Little Miss Sen has been learning a thing or +two,” said Nance. “She’s been to parties, she’s +been studying English under a famous professor; +she’s been buying duckling, lining and musling +dresses through a purchasing agent with +very good taste, and she’s got a photograph she +looks at in private and hides away when any one +comes into the room. Oh, you needn’t think I +didn’t see you!”</p> + +<p>Otoyo blushed scarlet and hung her head.</p> + +<p>“Oh, thou crafty one,” Judy was saying, when +four of the old Queen’s girls pounced on them +with suit cases and satchels. “Why, here are the +Gemini,” Judy continued, embracing the Williams +sisters. “Burned to a mahogany brown, too. +Where did you get that tan? You look like a +pair of—hum—Filipinos.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be making invidious remarks, Judy,” +put in Katherine. “Learn to see the beautiful +in all things, even complexions.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime Margaret Wakefield, looking +five years older than her real age because of her +matured figure and self-possessed air, was shaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +hands all around, making an appropriate +remark with each greeting, like the politician she +was; and Jessie Lynch was crying in heartbroken +tones:</p> + +<p>“I left a box of candy and a bunch of violets +and two new magazines on the train!”</p> + +<p>“Where’s my little freshman?” Molly demanded +of the other girls above the din and +racket.</p> + +<p>“There she is,” Judy pointed out. “But there +is no hurry. Every bus is jammed full.”</p> + +<p>The lonely freshman was standing pressed +against the wall of the waiting room looking +hopelessly on while the usual mob besieged Mr. +Murphy, baggage master.</p> + +<p>“Why, the poor little thing,” cried Molly, rushing +to take the girl under her wing.</p> + +<p>“It’s astonishing how one good deed starts another,” +thought Nance, looking about her for +other stranded freshies; and both the Williamses +were doing the same thing.</p> + +<p>There were several such lonely souls wandering +about like lost spirits. They had been jostled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +and pushed this way and that in the crowd, +and one little girl was on the point of shedding +tears.</p> + +<p>“I can always tell a new girl by the wild light +in her eye,” observed Edith Williams, making +for an unhappy looking young person who had +given up in despair and was sitting on her suit +case.</p> + +<p>At last they were all bundled into one of the +larger buses from the livery stable. The older +girls were thrilled with expectant joy while they +watched eagerly for the first glimpse of the twin +gray towers; the new girls, most of them, gazed +sadly the other way, as if home lay behind them.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a case of ‘abandon hope all ye who +enter here,’” observed Judy to a dejected freshman +who in five minutes had lost all interest in +her college career. “Look at us blooming creatures +and you’ll see what it can do. There’s no +end to the fun of it and no end to the things you’ll +learn besides mere book knowledge.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” said the girl, struggling to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +keep back her tears, “but it’s a little lonesome at +first.”</p> + +<p>“Poor little souls,” thought Molly, who had +overheard with much pride Judy’s eulogy of college, +“how can we explain it to them? They’ll +just have to find it out themselves as we did before +them.”</p> + +<p>The truth is, our new juniors felt quite motherly +and old.</p> + +<p>A hushed silence fell over the Queen’s girls +when the bus drove by the grass-grown plot +where once had stood their college home.</p> + +<p>“If a dear friend had been buried there, we +couldn’t have felt more solemn,” Molly wrote her +sister that night.</p> + +<p>But the prestige felt in alighting finally at the +great arched entrance to the Quadrangle drove +away all sad thoughts, and when they hastened +down the long polished corridor to their rooms, +they could not quench the pride which rose in +their breasts. It was the real thing at last. +Queen’s and O’Reilly’s had been great fun, but +this was college. They were the true daughters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +of Wellington now, and that night when the +gates clicked together at ten, they would sleep +for the first time behind her gray stone walls.</p> + +<p>At that moment the voices of a hundred-odd +other daughters hummed through the halls, but +it was all a part of the college atmosphere, as +Judy said.</p> + +<p>Their bedrooms were not quite as large as the +old Queen’s rooms, but oh, the sitting room! +They viewed it with pride. Each of the three +had contributed something toward additional furniture. +The piano was Judy’s; the divan, +Nance’s; and the cushions, yet to be unpacked, +Molly’s. There was another contribution not +made by any of the three. It was the beautiful +Botticelli photograph left for Molly by Mary +Stewart, who had gone to Europe for the winter.</p> + +<p>“How glad I am the walls are pale yellow and +the woodwork white!” exclaimed Judy joyfully.</p> + +<p>“How glad I am there’s plenty of room on these +shelves for everybody’s books,” said Nance.</p> + +<p>“And how glad I am to be a junior and back +at old Wellington,” finished Molly, squeezing a +hand of each friend.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER II.<br /> + +<small>MINERVA HIGGINS.</small></h2> + + +<p>“There’s only one thing worse than a faculty +call-down and that’s a Beta Phi freeze-out,” remarked +Judy Kean one Saturday afternoon a few +weeks after the opening day of college.</p> + +<p>“Why do you bring up disagreeable subjects, +Judy? Have you been getting a call-down?” +asked Katherine Williams.</p> + +<p>“Not your old Aunty Judy,” replied the other. +“I’m far too wise for that after two years’ experience, +but I saw some one else get one of the +most flattening, extinguishing, crushing call-downs +ever received by an inmate of this asylum +for young ladies. And they do tell me it was followed +soon after by another one.”</p> + +<p>“Do tell,” exclaimed an interested chorus.</p> + +<p>“It was that fresh Miss Higgins from Ohio,” +continued Judy, with some enjoyment of the curiosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +she was exciting. “You know she’s always +trying to attract the attention of the masses——”</p> + +<p>“We being the masses,” interrupted Edith.</p> + +<p>“And stand in the limelight. She’s bright, I +hear, very bright, but she knows it.”</p> + +<p>“I recognized her type almost immediately,” +said Katherine. “She’s one of those brightest-girls-in-the-high-school-pride-of-the-town +kind.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” answered Judy. “She has been regarded +as a prodigy for so long that she doesn’t +understand the relative difference between a +freshman and a senior. I honestly believe she +thought everybody in Wellington knew all about +her, and she wears as many gold medals on her +chest as a field marshal on dress parade.”</p> + +<p>“We saw the gold medals on Sunday,” interposed +Molly. “I think it’s rather pathetic, myself. +She is more to be pitied than scorned, because +of course she doesn’t know any better.”</p> + +<p>“She’ll have to live and learn, then,” said Judy.</p> + +<p>“Get to the point of your story, Judy. Who extinguished +her?” ejaculated Margaret Wakefield, +impatient of such slipshod methods of narration.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How can I tell a tale when I’m interrupted by +forty people at once?” exclaimed Judy. “Besides, +I haven’t the gift of language like you, old suffragette.”</p> + +<p>Margaret laughed. She was entirely good-natured +over the jibes of her friends about her passion +for universal suffrage.</p> + +<p>“Well, the Beta Phi crowd of seniors,” went on +Judy, “were walking across the campus in a row. +I don’t suppose Miss Higgins had any way to +know this soon in the game that they represented +the triple extract of concentrated exclusiveness +at Wellington. Anyhow, she knows it now. She +came rushing up behind them and gave Rosomond +a light, friendly slap on the back. If you +could have seen Rosomond’s face! But Miss Higgins +was entirely dense. She began something +about ‘Hello, girls, have you heard the news +about Prexy——’ but she never got any further. +Rosomond gave her the most freezing look I ever +saw from a human eye.”</p> + +<p>“What did she say?”</p> + +<p>“That was it. She never said anything. Nobody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +said anything. Eloise Blair carries tortoise-shell +lorgnettes——”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t need them,” broke in Nance.</p> + +<p>“She only does it to make herself more haughty.”</p> + +<p>“Anyway, Eloise raised the lorgnettes.”</p> + +<p>“Poor Miss Higgins,” cried Molly.</p> + +<p>“There was perfect silence for about a minute. +Then they all walked on, leaving little Higgins +standing alone in the middle of the campus.”</p> + +<p>“And where were you?” asked Margaret.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I was with the seniors,” answered Judy, +flushing slightly. “I had been over to Beta Phi +to see Rosomond about something.”</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Judy’s friends not to +make an amiable unspoken guess as to why she +had visited the Beta Phi circle. It had been evident +for some time that she was working to get +into the “Shakespeareans,” the most exclusive +dramatic club in college. There was an awkward +silence as this thought flashed through their +minds. Molly felt embarrassed for her chum. +After all, she was no worse than Margaret Wakefield, +who had managed to get herself elected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +three years in succession as president of her +class.</p> + +<p>“What was the other extinguisher Miss Higgins +had, Judy?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. That was even worse. It came +from your particular friend, Professor Green. +She interrupted him in the middle of a lecture +with one of those unnecessary questions new girls +ask to show how much they know. And then +she said something about methods at Mill Town +High School.”</p> + +<p>“Really?” chorused the voices. “And what +did he say?”</p> + +<p>“He looked very much bored and replied that +they were not interested in Mill Town High +School, and he would be obliged if she would pay +attention to the lecture. It was a public rebuke, +nothing more nor less.”</p> + +<p>“The mean thing,” exclaimed Molly.</p> + +<p>“Now, Molly,” interposed Margaret, “you +know very well that girls of that type ought to +be taken down. They are never tolerated at college. +A conceited boy at college is always thoroughly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +hazed until there’s not a drop of conceit +left, and it does him good. And since we can’t +haze, we simply have to extinguish a fresh +freshie. Miss Higgins may develop into a very +nice girl in a year or two, but at present she’s the +veriest little upstart——”</p> + +<p>“Do be careful,” said Molly cautiously. “I’ve +invited her this afternoon to drink tea——”</p> + +<p>“Molly Brown,” they cried, pummeling her +with sofa cushions and beating her with her own +slippers.</p> + +<p>“Really, Molly, you must restrain your inviting +habits,” said Judy.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” apologized poor Molly.</p> + +<p>“Why did you do it, pray? You know perfectly +well no one here wants her.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, but I was sorry for her. She +seemed so brash and lonesome at the same time. +I thought it might help her some to mingle with +a few fine, intelligent, well-bred girls like +you——”</p> + +<p>“Here, here! Don’t try to get out of it that +way.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She appears to be very learned,” continued +Molly, turning her blue eyes innocently from one +to the other. “I thought it would be nice to pit +her against Margaret and Edith. She discusses +deep subjects and uses big words I can only dimly +guess the meaning of——” There was a tap at +the door. “Now, be nice, please.”</p> + +<p>“Come in,” called Nance, in a tone of authority, +and Minerva Higgins appeared in their +midst.</p> + +<p>She had done honor to the occasion by putting +on a taffeta silk of indigo blue, and by pinning +on some of her most conspicuous gold medals +acquired at intervals during her early education.</p> + +<p>Judy shook her head over the indigo blue.</p> + +<p>“Only certain minds could wear it,” she +thought.</p> + +<p>Molly rose, but before she could frame a cordial +greeting, the new guest was saying:</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Molly? Awfully nice of you +to ask me. You don’t mind my calling you by +your first name, do you? My name is Minerva<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +but the girls at Mill Town High School called +me ‘Minnie.’ I hope you’ll do the same.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be glad to,” answered Molly, rather +taken back by this sudden intimacy.</p> + +<p>After she had performed all necessary introductions, +wicked Katherine Williams remarked:</p> + +<p>“Minnie is a very charming name, but I insist +on calling you ‘Minerva’ after the Goddess of +Wisdom. She never wore gold medals, but then +it wasn’t the fashion among the early Greeks.”</p> + +<p>Minerva’s face was the picture of complacency.</p> + +<p>“In Greece she would have been ‘Athene,’” +she observed.</p> + +<p>There was a loud clearing of throats and Judy, +as usual, was seized with a violent fit of coughing.</p> + +<p>“Sit down here, Miss Higgins—I mean Minnie,” +said Molly hastily. “The tea will be ready +in a minute.”</p> + +<p>“You have been to college before, Minerva?” +asked Edith Williams solemnly.</p> + +<p>Minerva looked somewhat surprised.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no. Not college. I am just out of High<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +School. Mill Town High School is a very wonderful +educational institution, you know. Perhaps +you have heard of it. A diploma from there +will admit a girl into any of the best colleges in +the country. I could have gone to a private +school. My father is professor of Greek at the +Academy in Mill Town, but I preferred to take +advantage of the high standards of the High +School, which are even higher than those of the +Academy.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose your father’s taste in Greek caused +him to name you Minerva,” observed Judy.</p> + +<p>“But Minerva isn’t Greek, Julia,” admonished +Katherine.</p> + +<p>Again Molly interceded. It was cruel to make +fun of the poor girl, although there was no denying +that Minerva had a high opinion of herself.</p> + +<p>“Have a sandwich,” she said soothingly.</p> + +<p>There was a long interval of silence while +Minerva crunched her sandwich.</p> + +<p>“Your life at Mill Town High School must +have been one grand triumphal progress, judging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +from your medals, Miss Higgins,” said Edith +Williams finally.</p> + +<p>Minerva glanced proudly down at the awards +of merit.</p> + +<p>“There are a good many of them,” she observed, +with a smile that was almost more than +they could stand. “And there are more of them +still. I’ve won one or two medals each year ever +since I started to school. But I don’t like to wear +them all at once.”</p> + +<p>“That’s very modest of you.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to specialize on any subjects, +Miss Higgins?” asked Margaret Wakefield, +really meaning to be kind and lead the girl away +from topics which made her appear ridiculous.</p> + +<p>“Biology, I think. But I am interested in +Comparative Philology, too, and after I skim +through a little Greek and Latin, I intend to take +up some of the ancient languages, Sanskrit and +Hebrew.”</p> + +<p>Was it possible that Minerva was making game +of them? They regarded her suspiciously, but +she seemed sublimely unconscious.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why not study also the ancient tongue of the +Basques?” asked Edith, quite gravely.</p> + +<p>“That would be interesting,” replied Minerva, +“but I want to get through this little college +course first.”</p> + +<p>Molly batted her heavenly eyes and suddenly +burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be +rude, but the course at Wellington doesn’t seem +so small to us. We have to study all the time and +then just barely pull through. I’ve almost flunked +twice in mathematics. I wish I could call it a +little course.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well, we are not all Minervas,” observed +Margaret. “Some of us are just ordinary school +girls learning the rudiments of education. We +have not had the advantages of Mill Town High +School, and if any of us have won gold medals +we never show them.”</p> + +<p>This measured rebuff, however, had no more +effect on Minerva’s impervious vanity than a +cup of water dashed against a granite boulder. +She was already up, wandering about the room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +boldly examining the girls’ belongings, ostentatiously +reading the titles of books aloud.</p> + +<p>“Plays by Molière. Oh, yes, I read them in the +original two years ago. They’re easy. ‘Green’s +Short History of the English People,’ very interesting +book. ‘The Broad Highway.’ I never +read fiction. Only biography and history——”</p> + +<p>Edith Williams, stretched at her ease on the +divan, gave an inaudible groan and turned her +face to the wall.</p> + +<p>Molly glanced helplessly about her.</p> + +<p>“‘The Primavera,’ that’s by Botticelli,” went +on the girl, infatuated by her own intelligence. +“Good artist, but I don’t care for the old masters +as a general thing. They are always out of drawing.”</p> + +<p>Katherine rolled her eyes up into her head +until only the whites could be seen, which gave +her the horrible aspect of a corpse.</p> + +<p>There was a long and eloquent silence. Presently +Minerva took her departure, and Molly, +hospitable to the last gasp, saw her to the door +and invited her to come again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>With the door safely locked and Minerva out +of earshot, there was a general collapse. Nobody +laughed, but the room was filled with painful +sounds, moans and groans. Judy pretended to +faint on top of Edith, and Molly sat in a remote +corner of the room.</p> + +<p>Somehow, they felt beaten, vanquished.</p> + +<p>“I am sore all over with repressed emotions,” +cried Judy. “I couldn’t stand another séance +like that.”</p> + +<p>“Does she know as much as she claims?” asked +Nance.</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” exclaimed Margaret irritably. +“If she really knew she wouldn’t claim anything. +It’s only ignorant people who boast of knowledge. +I suppose she has been looked up to for so long +that she regards herself as a fountain of wisdom.”</p> + +<p>“She must be taken down,” said Edith firmly. +“This mustn’t be allowed to go on at Wellington.”</p> + +<p>“But hazing isn’t allowed,” put in Molly.</p> + +<p>“Not by hazing, goosie. By some homely little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +practical joke that will show herself to herself as +others see her.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” consented Molly. She felt indeed +that something should be done to save poor Minerva +Higgins from eternal ridicule.</p> + +<p>“If anybody has suggestions to make,” here +announced Margaret Wakefield, self-constituted +chairman of all committees, impromptu or otherwise, +“they may be stated in writing or announced +by word of mouth to-morrow night in +our rooms at a fudge party.”</p> + +<p>“Accepted,” they cried in one breath.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Minerva Higgins was writing +home to her mother that she had been, if not +the guest of honor, almost that, at a junior tea, +and had found the girls rather interesting though +poor talkers. In fact, it was necessary to do almost +all the talking herself.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER III.<br /> + +<small>IN THE CLOISTERS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Life in the Quadrangle hummed busily on. The +girls found themselves in the very heart of college +affairs. As a matter of fact the old Queen’s +circle had been somewhat restricted, having narrowed +down to less than a dozen; whereas now, +they associated with many times that number +and were invited to a bewildering succession of +teas and fudge parties.</p> + +<p>Also they were nearer to the library, the gymnasium, +the classrooms and the cloisters. Here, +during the warm, hazy days of Indian summer +Molly loved to walk. It was not such a popular +place as she had imagined with the Quadrangle +girls, and often she was quite alone in the arcade, +bordered now with hydrangeas turning a delicate +pink under the autumn suns.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, a few days after Margaret’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +fudge party to discuss the question of Minerva +Higgins, Molly sought a few quiet moments in +the cloistered walk. It was a half hour before +closing-up time, but she would not miss the six +strokes of the tower clock again, as she had on +her first day at college two years before.</p> + +<p>She usually confined her walks to the far side +of the arcade, keeping well away from the side +of the cloisters on which the studies of some of +the faculty opened. That afternoon she carried +her volume of Rossetti with her, and pacing +slowly up and down, she read in a low musical +voice to herself:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘The blessed damozel leaned out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the gold bar of Heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eyes were deeper than the depth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of waters stilled at even;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She had three lilies in her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars in her hair were seven.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Waves of rhythm ran through Molly’s head, +and when she reached the end of the walk she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +turned mechanically and went the other way +without pausing in her reading.</p> + +<p>Many girls studied in this way in the cloisters +and it was not an unusual sight, but Molly made +a picture not soon to be forgotten by any one +who might chance to wander in the arcade at that +hour. She was still spare and undeveloped, but +the grace that was to come revealed itself in the +girlish lines of her figure. Her eyes seemed +never more serenely, deeply blue than now, and +her hair, disordered from the tam o’shanter she +had pulled off and tossed onto a stone bench, +made a fluffy auburn frame about her face. +Molly was by no means beautiful from the standpoint +of perfection. Her eyebrows and lashes +should have been darker; her chin was too pointed +and her mouth a shade too large. But few people +took the trouble to pick out flaws in her face +or figure. Those who loved her thought her beautiful, +and the few who did not could not deny her +charm.</p> + +<p>Presently she sat down on a bench, continuing +to declaim the poem out aloud, making a gesture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +occasionally with her unoccupied hand. +After reading a verse, she closed her eyes and +repeated it to herself. Opening her eyes between +verses, she encountered the amused gaze of Professor +Edwin Green who, having seen her in the +distance, had cut across the grassy court and now +stood as still as a statue leaning against a stone +pillar.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” exclaimed Molly, with a nervous start.</p> + +<p>“<a href="#frontispiece">Did I frighten you? I am sorry.</a> I should +have walked more heavily. It’s unkind to steal +up on people who are reading poetry aloud.”</p> + +<p>“I was learning the—something by heart,” she +said, blushing a little as if she had been detected +in a guilty act. After all, it was the professor +who had introduced her to that poem and given +her the book last Christmas, but that, of course, +was not the reason why she was so fond of the +poem she was studying.</p> + +<p>“How do you like the Quadrangle?” he asked. +“Are you comfortable and happy?”</p> + +<p>Molly clasped her hands in the excess of her +enthusiasm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I was never so happy in all my life,” she cried. +“It is perfect. Our rooms are beautiful, and a +sitting room, too. Think of that, with yellow +walls and a piano!”</p> + +<p>The professor looked vastly pleased. For an +instant his face was lighted by a beaming, radiant +smile. Then he thrust his hands into his +pockets and pressed his lips together in a thin +line of determination.</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I were one of the workers inside +the hive now,” Molly continued.</p> + +<p>“And all the difficulties about tuition have been +settled?” he asked. “Forgive my mentioning it, +but I felt an interest on account of my close relationship +to the Blounts.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. The money from the two acres of +orchard settled that. You see, whoever bought +it, whether it was an old man or a company—for +some reason the name is still a secret with the +agent—paid cash. They rarely do, mother says, +and the money is usually spent in driblets before +you realize it. Mr. Richard Blount expects +to settle with his father’s creditors in a few<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +months. My sisters are working. They say they +enjoy it, but they are both engaged to be married,” +she added, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Did the orchard yield a good crop this year?” +asked the professor irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, splendid. The apples were packed in barrels +and sent away. Several of them were sent +to mother as a present. Very nice of the owner, +wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Very,” replied the professor, fingering something +in his pocket absently.</p> + +<p>“The owner of the orchard has it kept in fine +condition. The trees have been trimmed and the +ground cleared. Mother says she’s ashamed of +her own shiftlessness whenever she looks at it. +The grass was as smooth as velvet all summer +until the drought came and dried it brown. I +used to go there summer mornings and lie in a +hammock and read. I didn’t think any one would +care. There’s no harm in attaching a hammock +to two trees. Mother says I don’t seem to remember +that we are no longer the owners of the +orchard. I have played in it and lived in it so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +much of my life that I’ve got the habit, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>The professor cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>“You said the ground sloped slightly, did you +not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, just a gradual slope to a little brook at +the bottom of the hill. The water seems to cool +the air in summer. It never goes dry and there +is a little basin in one place we used to call ‘the +birds’ bath tub.’ Such birds you never imagined! +They are attracted by the apples, I suppose. But +there are hundreds of them. They sing from +morning to night.”</p> + +<p>“You paint a very attractive picture, Miss +Brown. It must have been hard to give up this +charming property.”</p> + +<p>“But you see we haven’t given it up exactly. +It’s there right against us. We can still look at +it and even walk under the trees. No one minds. +And see what I have for it! Nothing could ever +take the place of college—not even an apple +orchard.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>A sharp voice broke in on this pleasant conversation.</p> + +<p>“Cousin Edwin, I’ve been looking for you +everywhere.”</p> + +<p>Judith Blount appeared hastening down the +walk.</p> + +<p>The professor watched the advancing figure +calmly.</p> + +<p>“Well, now you have found me, what do you +want?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Molly detected a slight note of annoyance in +his voice. She had a notion that Judith was one +of the trials of his life.</p> + +<p>“I have rewritten the short story you criticized +for me last week, and I want you to look it over +again.”</p> + +<p>He took the roll of paper without a word and +thrust it into his coat pocket.</p> + +<p>Molly rose.</p> + +<p>“I must be going,” she said. “It must be nearly +six o’clock.”</p> + +<p>Judith promptly sat down on the bench facing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +her cousin, who still leaned against the stone pillar.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think it’s a little chilly to be lingering +here, Judith?” he remarked politely, as he +joined Molly.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t too chilly for you a moment ago,” +answered Judith hotly.</p> + +<p>But she rose and walked on the other side of +the professor.</p> + +<p>“How do you like your rooms?” he asked presently.</p> + +<p>“I hate them,” she replied, with such fierce resentment +that Molly was sure that Judith was +glad to have something on which to vent her angry +mood. “Thank heavens, this is my last year. +I detest Wellington. I have never been happy +here. It’s brought shame and misfortune on me. +It’s a horrid old place.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Judith,” protested Molly, unable to endure +this libel on her beloved college.</p> + +<p>“My dear child, you can’t blame Wellington +for your misfortunes,” interposed the professor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +who himself cherished a deep affection for the +two gray towers.</p> + +<p>“It is hard to live in the village instead of at +college,” said Molly, feeling suddenly very sorry +for the unhappy Judith.</p> + +<p>But Judith was in no state to be sympathized +with. All day she had been nursing a grievance. +One of her friends in prosperity at the Beta Phi +House had turned a cold shoulder on her that +morning; and Judith was so enraged by the +slight that her feelings were like an open sore.</p> + +<p>She turned on Molly angrily.</p> + +<p>“You ought to know,” she said. “You had to +do it long enough.”</p> + +<p>“Judith, Judith,” remonstrated the professor. +“Can’t you understand that you gain nothing, and +always lose something, by giving way like this? +Denouncing and hating make the object you are +working for recede. You’ll never get it that +way.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know what I’m working for?” +she demanded, more quietly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We are all of us working for the same thing,” +he answered. “Happiness. None of us proposes +to get it in the same way, but all of us propose to +reach the same goal. What would give me happiness +no doubt would never satisfy you.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know that, either. What would +give you happiness?” Judith asked, with some +curiosity.</p> + +<p>The professor paused a moment, then he said +calmly:</p> + +<p>“A little home of my own in a shady quiet +place with plenty of old trees, where I could +work in peace. I have always fancied an old orchard. +There might be a brook at one end——”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled.</p> + +<p>“He’s thinking of my orchard,” she thought.</p> + +<p>“There must be hundreds of birds in my orchard,” +went on the professor, “and the grass +must always be thick and green, except perhaps +when the drought comes and it can’t help itself——”</p> + +<p>The six o’clock bell boomed out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Have an apple,” he said, taking two red apples +from his pocket and giving one to each of +the girls.</p> + +<p>Then he opened the small oak door and stood +politely aside while they passed out.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IV.<br /> + +<small>A LITERARY EVENING.</small></h2> + + +<p>The entertainment designed to bring Miss Minerva +Higgins to a true understanding of her +position as a freshman took place one Friday +evening in the rooms of Margaret and Jessie. It +was called on the invitation “A Literary Evening,” +and was to be in the nature of a spread and +fudge affair. There had been two rehearsals beforehand, +and the girls were now prepared to +enjoy themselves thoroughly.</p> + +<p>Molly was loath to take part in the literary +evening.</p> + +<p>“I can’t bear to see anybody humiliated even +when she ought to be,” she said, but she consented +to come and to give a recitation.</p> + +<p>Several study tables had been united for the +supper, the cracks concealed by Japanese towelling +contributed by Otoyo. There was no Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +Murphy in the Quadrangle from whom to borrow +tablecloths. All the chairs from the other rooms +were brought in to seat the company, who appeared +grave and subdued. Most of the girls +were dressed to resemble famous poets and authors. +Judy was Byron; Margaret Wakefield, +George Eliot; Nance, Charlotte Bronté; Edith +Williams, Edgar Allan Poe; and Molly was Shelley. +Shakespeare, Voltaire and Charles Dickens +were in the company, and “The Duchess,” impersonated +by Jessie Lynch.</p> + +<p>The unfortunate Minerva was a little disconcerted +at first when she found herself the only +girl at the feast in her own character.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me, so that I could have +come in costume, too?” she asked Margaret.</p> + +<p>“But you had your medals,” was Margaret’s +enigmatic answer.</p> + +<p>Minerva looked puzzled. Then her gaze fell +to the shining breastplate of silver and gold +trophies. She had worn them all this evening. +The temptation had been too great. The medals +gleamed like so many solemn eyes. She wondered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +if the others could read what was inscribed +on them, or if it would be necessary to call attention +to the most choice ones: “THE HIGHEST +GENERAL AVERAGE FOR FOUR +YEARS”; “REGULAR ATTENDANCE”; +“MATHEMATICS”; “THE BEST HISTORICAL +ESSAY”; “ENGLISH AND COMPOSITION.”</p> + +<p>Edith opened the evening by delivering a +speech in Latin which was really one of Virgil’s +eclogues mixed up with whatever she could recall +of Livy and Horace, and filled out occasionally +with Latin prose composition. It was so excruciatingly +funny that Judy sputtered in her +tea and was well kicked on her shins under the +table.</p> + +<p>Minerva, however, appeared to be profoundly +impressed, and the company murmured subdued +approvals when, at last, the speaker took breath +and sat down, gazing solemnly around her with +dark, melancholy eyes very much blacked around +the lids.</p> + +<p>Margaret then delivered a learned discourse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +on “Poise of Body and Poise of Mind,” which +was skillfully expressed in such deep and intricate +language that nobody could understand what +she was talking about.</p> + +<p>“Very, very interesting, indeed,” observed +Edith.</p> + +<p>“Remarkable; wonderful; so clearly put,” +came from the others.</p> + +<p>Minerva rubbed her eyes and frowned.</p> + +<p>Nance recited “The Raven,” translated into +very bad French. This was almost more than +their gravity could endure, and when she ended +each verse with “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dit le corbeau: jamais plus</i>,” +many of the girls stooped under the table for lost +handkerchiefs and Japanese napkins.</p> + +<p>But it was not until Judy had sung a lullaby in +Sanskrit—so called—that Minerva became at all +suspicious. Even then it was the wrong kind of +suspicion. She thought that perhaps she should +have laughed, and the others had politely refrained +because she hadn’t.</p> + +<p>After a great deal of learned talk, Molly stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +on a soap box and recited “Curfew Shall Not +Ring To-night.”</p> + +<p>This was the crowning joy of that famous +evening, but still Minerva appeared seriously impressed.</p> + +<p>“I recited that once at Mill Town High +School,” she remarked.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you give us something to-night?” asked +Molly kindly, feeling that in some way the unfortunate +Minerva ought to be allowed to join in.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I ought to give another +poem by the same man,” she replied, “except that +Miss Oldham gave ‘The Raven’ in French.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell us you know ‘The Bells’?” demanded +Edith Williams, in a trembling whisper.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. I’ve given it at lots of school entertainments.”</p> + +<p>“We had better turn down the lights,” said +Margaret. “The room should be in darkness +except the side light where Miss Higgins will +stand. That will be the spot light.”</p> + +<p>This was a fortunate arrangement because, +while Minerva recited “The Bells,” with all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +proper gestures, intonations and echoes, according +to Cleveland’s recitation book, the girls silently +collapsed. When she had finished, they +were reduced to that exhausted state that arrives +after a supreme effort not to laugh.</p> + +<p>At last the entertainment came to an end. Minerva +departed with some of the others, while +those who lived close by remained to chat for a +few minutes.</p> + +<p>“I give up,” exclaimed Margaret Wakefield. +“Minerva is beyond teaching. She must remain +forever the smartest girl in Mill Town High +School.”</p> + +<p>“The only pity of it is that it was all wasted on +one humorless person. We really furnished her +with a most delightful entertainment and she +never even guessed it,” declared Nance.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad she didn’t,” remarked Molly. “It +was cruel, I think. Suppose she had caught on? +Do you think it would have helped her? And we +would have been uncomfortable.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose she did understand and pretended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +not to. The joke would have been decidedly on +us,” put in Katherine.</p> + +<p>Later events of that evening would seem to +bear out this suggestion, although just how +deeply, if at all, Minerva was implicated in what +followed no one could possibly tell. It was a +question long afterwards in dispute whether one +person had managed the sequel to the Literary +Evening, or whether there had been a confederate. +Certainly it seemed that every imp in Bedlam +had been set free to do mischief, and if Minerva, +as arch-imp, was looking for revenge, she +found it.</p> + +<p>“I don’t like to appear inhospitable, girls, but +it’s five minutes of ten and I think you’d better +chase along,” said Margaret Wakefield.</p> + +<p>But when Judy laid hold of the knob and tried +to open the door, it would not budge.</p> + +<p>“It won’t open,” she exclaimed. “What’s to +be done?”</p> + +<p>What was to be done? They pulled and jerked +and endeavored to pry it open with a silver shoe +horn and a pair of scissors, and at last Jessie, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +the smallest, was chosen to climb over the transom +and go for help. It was five minutes past +ten, and they prudently turned out the lights.</p> + +<p>“Let me get at that knob just once before we +work the transom scheme,” ejaculated Margaret, +who was very strong and athletic.</p> + +<p>“People always think they can open tin cans +and doors and pull stoppers when other people +can’t,” observed Judy sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Margaret treated this remark with contemptuous +indifference. Seizing the knob with both +hands, she turned it and, putting her knee to the +jamb, pulled with all her force. The arch fiend +on the other side must have turned the key at +this critical moment, for the door flew open and +the president tumbled back as if she had been +shot from a catapult, knocking a number of surprised +poets and authors into a tumbled heap. +They were all considerably bruised and battered, +and Margaret bit her tongue; a severe punishment +for one whose oratory was the pride of the +class.</p> + +<p>“Hush,” whispered Jessie, who alone had escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +the tumble, “here comes the house matron.”</p> + +<p>Softly she closed the door, and the girls waited +until the danger was over. Then Margaret hastened +to examine the keyhole.</p> + +<p>“There’s no key in it,” she whispered, speaking +with difficulty, because her tongue was bleeding +from the marks of two teeth.</p> + +<p>Whoever played the trick must have unlocked +the door, jerked the key out and fled the instant +the matron appeared at the end of the corridor. +There was no time to discuss the mystery, however. +She would be coming back in two minutes. +Again they waited in silence until they heard the +swish of her dress as she went past the door, now +left open a crack in order that Judy, lying flat +on her stomach on the floor, and enjoying herself +immensely, might be on the lookout.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” she hissed, as the large, rotund +figure of Mrs. Pelham was lost in the darkness, +and out they scuttled like a lot of mice loosed +from the trap.</p> + +<p>But the evening’s adventures were not over.</p> + +<p>As Judy, in advance of Molly and Nance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +pushed open their door, already ajar, a small pail +of water, placed on the top of the door by the +arch-imp, whoever she was, fell on Judy’s head +and deluged her. It contained hardly a quart +of water, but it might have been a gallon for the +wreck it made of Judy’s clothes and the room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I’ll get even with somebody,” exclaimed +that enraged young woman.</p> + +<p>They turned on the green-shaded student’s +lamp and drew the blinds, the night watchman +being very vigilant at the dormitories, and began +silently mopping up the floor with towels.</p> + +<p>Judy removed her wet clothes, and unbound +her long hair, light in color and fine as silk in +quality.</p> + +<p>“I can’t go to bed,” she announced, “until I +find out what’s happened to the Gemini,” and +without another word she crept into the corridor.</p> + +<p>“Nance,” whispered Molly, when they were +alone, “if Minerva Higgins did this, she’s about +the boldest freshman alive to-day. But, after all, +we can’t exactly blame her, considering what we +did to her.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She is taking great chances,” replied Nance, +who had a thorough respect for college etiquette +and class caste. “Every pert freshman must be +prepared for a call-down; and if she doesn’t take +it like a lamb, she’ll just have to expect a freeze-out. +It’s much better for her in the end. If +Minerva were allowed to keep this up for four +years, she would be entirely insufferable. She’s +almost that now.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think she could find it out without +such severe methods?”</p> + +<p>“Severe methods, indeed,” answered Nance indignantly. +“Do you call it severe to be asked +to sup with the brightest girls in Wellington? +Margaret’s speech alone was worth all the humiliation +Minerva might have felt; but she didn’t +feel any. Do you consider that rough, crude +jokes like this are going to be tolerated?”</p> + +<p>“But we don’t know that Minerva played them, +yet,” pleaded Molly. “I do admit, though, that +it must have been a very ordinary person who +could think of them. Margaret might have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +badly hurt if she hadn’t fallen on top of the rest +of us.”</p> + +<p>Presently Judy came stalking into their bedroom.</p> + +<p>“It’s just as I expected,” she announced. “The +Williamses’ bed was full of carpet tacks and +Mabel Hinton fell over a cord stretched across +her door and sprained her wrist. She has it +bound with arnica now.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how Minerva could have had time +to do all those things,” broke in Molly.</p> + +<p>There are some rare and very just natures—and +Molly’s was one of them—which will not be +convinced by circumstantial evidence alone.</p> + +<p>“She would have had plenty of time,” argued +Judy. “It would hardly have taken five minutes +provided she had planned it all out beforehand. +Besides, it’s easy for you to talk, Molly. You +didn’t bite your tongue, or sprain your wrist, or +get a ducking; or undress in the dark and get +into a bedful of tacks. You escaped.”</p> + +<p>“Disgusting!” came Nance’s muffled voice +from the covers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It is horrid,” admitted Molly. “Whoever did +it——”</p> + +<p>“Minerva!” broke in Judy.</p> + +<p>“—must have a very mistaken idea of college +and the sorts of amusement that are customary.”</p> + +<p>So the argument ended for the night.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER V.<br /> + +<small>VARIOUS HAPPENINGS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Guilty or innocent, Minerva Higgins displayed +an inscrutable face next day, and the juniors, +lacking all necessary evidence, were obliged to +admit themselves outwitted; but they let it be +known that jokes of that class were distinctly +foreign to Wellington notions, and woe be to +the author of them if her identity was ever disclosed.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Molly was busy with many +things. As usual she was very hard up for +clothes, and was concocting a scheme in her +mind for saving up money enough to buy a new +dress for the Junior Prom. in February. She +bought a china pig in the village, large enough +to hold a good deal of small change, and from +time to time dropped silver through the slit in +his back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He’s a safe bank,” she observed to her +friends, “because the only way you can get money +out of him is to smash him.”</p> + +<p>The pig came to assume a real personality in +the circle. For some unknown reason he had +been christened “Martin Luther.” The girls +used to shake him and guess the amount of +money he contained. Sometimes they wrote +jingles about him, and Judy invented a dialogue +between Martin Luther and herself which was +so amusing that its fame spread abroad and she +was invited to give it many times at spreads and +fudge parties.</p> + +<p>The scheme that had been working in Molly’s +mind for some weeks at last sprung into life as +an idea, and seizing a pencil and paper one day +she sketched out her notion of the plot of a short +story. It was not what she herself really cared +for, but what she considered might please the +editor who was to buy it as a complete story, +and the public who would read it. There were +mystery and love, beauty and riches in Molly’s +first attempt. Then she began to write. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +it was slow work. The ideas would not flow as +they did for letters home and for class themes. +She found great difficulty in expressing herself. +Her conversations were stilted and the plot +would not hang together.</p> + +<p>“I never thought it would be so hard,” she +said to herself when she had finished the tale +and copied it out on legal cap paper. “And now +for the boldest act of my life.”</p> + +<p>With a triumphant flourish of the pen, she +rolled up the manuscript and marched across +the courtyard to the office of Professor Green.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” he called, quite gruffly, in answer +to her knock. But when she entered, he rose +politely and offered her a seat. Sitting down +again in his revolving desk chair, he looked at +her very hard.</p> + +<p>“I know you will think I have the most colossal +nerve,” she began, “when you hear why I +have called; but I really need advice and you’ve +been so kind—so interested, always.”</p> + +<p>“What is it this time?” he interrupted kindly. +“More money troubles?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, not exactly. Although, of course, I am +always anxious to earn money. Who isn’t? But +I have a writing bee in my head. I’ve had it ever +since last winter, although I confined myself +mostly to verse——”</p> + +<p>Molly paused and blushed. She felt ashamed +to discuss her poor rhymes with this learned +man nearly a dozen years older than she was.</p> + +<p>“There’s no money in poetry,” she went on, +“and I thought I would switch off to prose. I +have written a short story and—I hope you won’t +be angry—I’ve brought it over for you to look +at. I knew you looked over some of Judith’s +stories.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I shan’t be angry, child. I’m glad +to help you, although I am not a fiction writer +and therefore might hardly be thought competent +to judge. Let’s see what you have.” He +held out his hand for the manuscript. “On second +thought,” he continued, “suppose you read +it aloud to me. Girls’ handwriting is generally +much alike—hard to make out.”</p> + +<p>Molly, trembling with stage fright, her face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +crimson, began to read. The professor, resting +his chin on his interlocked fingers, turned his +whimsical brown eyes full upon her and never +shifted his gaze once during the entire reading, +which lasted some twenty-five minutes. When +she had finished, Molly dropped the papers in her +lap and waited.</p> + +<p>“Well, what do you think of it? Please don’t +mince matters. Tell me the truth.”</p> + +<p>The professor came back to life with a start. +She knew at once that he had not heard a word.</p> + +<p>“Oh, er—I beg your pardon,” he said. “Very +good. Very good, indeed. Suppose you leave +the manuscript with me. I’ll look it over again +to-night.”</p> + +<p>She rose to go. After all she had no right to +complain, since she had asked this favor of a +very busy man; but she did wish he had paid +attention.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment, Miss Brown, there was something +I wanted to say. What was it now?” He +rubbed his head, and then thrust his hands into +his pockets. “Oh, yes. This is what I wanted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +to say—have an apple?” A flat Japanese basket +on the table was filled with apples. “Excuse my +not passing the basket, but they roll over. Take +several. Help yourself.”</p> + +<p>He made Molly take three, one for Nance, one +for Judy and one for herself. Then he saw her +to the outer door, bowing silently, all the time +like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p>The next morning the manuscript was returned +to Molly by the professor after the class +in Literature. It was folded into a big envelope +and contained a note. The note had no beginning +and was signed “E. G.” This is what it +said:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Since you wish my true opinion of this story, +I will tell you frankly that it is decidedly amateurish. +The style is heavy and labored and the +plot mawkishly sentimental and mock heroic.</p> + +<p>“Try to think up some simple story and write +it out in simple language. Do not employ words +that you are not in the habit of using. Be natural +and express yourself as you would if you +were writing a letter to your mother. Write +about real people and real happenings; not about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +impossibly beautiful and rich goddesses and superbly +handsome, fearless gods. Such people +do not really exist, you know, and you are supposed +to be painting a word picture of life.</p> + +<p>“You have talent, but you must be willing to +work very hard. Good writing does not come in +a day any more than good piano playing or painting. +I would add: be yourself—unaffected—sincere—and +your style will be perfect.”</p></div> + +<p>Molly wept a little over this frank expression +of criticism, although there did seem to be an +implied compliment in the last line. She reread +the story and blushed for her commonplaceness. +Surely there never had been written anything so +inane and silly.</p> + +<p>For a long time she sat gazing at the white +peak of Fujiyama on the Japanese scroll.</p> + +<p>“Simple and natural, indeed,” she exclaimed. +“It’s much harder than the other way. Unaffected +and sincere! That’s not easy, either.” She +sighed and tore the story into little bits, casting +it into the waste-paper basket. “That’s the best +place for you,” she continued, apostrophizing her +first attempt at fiction. “Nobody would ever have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +laughed or cried over you. Nobody would even +have noticed you. My trouble is that I try too +hard. I am always straining my mind for words +and ideas. Now, when I write letters, how do +I do? I let go. I never worry. Can a story +be written in that way?”</p> + +<p>“How now, Mistress Molly,” called Judy, +bursting into the room. “Why are you lingering +here in the house when all the world’s afield? +Get thee up and go hence with me unto the green +woods where we are to have tea, probably for +the last time before the winter’s call.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s ‘we’?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Why, the usual crowd, and a few others from +Beta Phi House.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ll never have enough teacups to go +around, child,” objected Molly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, we shall. There are two other tea +baskets coming from Beta Phi. There will be +plenty and some over besides. Rosomond Chase +and Millicent Porter were so taken with my +basket last year that they each bought one. Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +course Millicent’s is much finer than mine or +Rosomond’s.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say. But I don’t think I want to go, +Judy.”</p> + +<p>The truth was Molly never felt in sympathy +with those two Beta Phi girls, who represented +an element in college she did not like. They +dressed a great deal, for one thing, especially +Millicent Porter, the girl who had sub-let Judith +Blount’s apartment the year before.</p> + +<p>“Now, Molly, I think you’re unkind,” burst +out Judy. She never could endure even small +disappointments. “They are awfully nice girls +and they want to know you better. They said +they did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t they come and see me? +That’s easy.”</p> + +<p>Judy did not reply. She was pulling down all +the clothes in the closet in a search for Molly’s +tam and sweater. She was in one of her queer, +excited moods. Could it be that Judy thought +the sparkling coterie from Queen’s was being +honored by these two rich young persons from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +Beta Phi? Molly rejected the suspicion almost +as soon as it entered her mind. No, it was simply +that poor old Judy was obsessed with a desire +to get into the “Shakespeareans,” and by +courting the most influential members she +thought she could make it.</p> + +<p>Molly pulled her slender length from the +depths of the Morris chair where she had been +lolling.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” she said resignedly. “I was +meditating on my ambitions when you broke in +on me. You are a very demoralizing young person, +Judy.”</p> + +<p>Judy laughed. She made a charming picture +in her scarlet tam and sweater.</p> + +<p>“Come along,” she cried, “and ambitions be +hanged.” She seized her tea basket under one +arm and a box of ginger snaps under the other.</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy, I am really shocked at you,” exclaimed +Molly. “I think I’ll have to give you +another shaking up before long. You’re getting +lax and lazy.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort. I only want to enjoy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +life while the weather is good. It’s lots easier +to think of ambitions on rainy days.”</p> + +<p>The other girls were waiting on the campus: +the Williamses, Margaret and Jessie, Nance and +presently the two Beta Phi girls. Rosomond +Chase was a plump, rather heavy blonde type, +always dressed to perfection and bright enough +when she felt inclined to exert her mind. Millicent +Porter was quite the opposite in appearance; +small, wiry, with a prominent, sharp-featured +face; prominent nose, prominent teeth and rather +bulging eyes. She talked a great deal in a highly +pompous tone, and her voice always slurred over +from one statement to another as if to ward off +interruption. She seemed much amused at this +little escapade in the woods, quite Bohemian and +informal.</p> + +<p>The Queen’s girls could hardly explain why she +appeared so patronizing. It was her manner +more than what she said; although Margaret insisted +that it was because she monopolized the +conversation.</p> + +<p>“We didn’t go to listen to a monologue,” Margaret<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +thundered later when they were discussing +the tea party. “We came to hear ourselves talk.”</p> + +<p>What surprised Molly was the attention that +the young person of unlimited wealth bestowed +upon her.</p> + +<p>“Come and sit beside me, Miss Brown, and tell +me about Kentucky,” she ordered.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I haven’t the gift of language,” +replied Molly, without budging from her seat on +a log. “Ask Margaret Wakefield. She’s the +only conversationalist in the crowd.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose Mahomet must go to the mountain, +then,” observed Miss Porter, and she moved graciously +over to the log, where she regaled Molly +with a great deal of wordy talk.</p> + +<p>“If she’s going to do all the conversing, it +might as well be on something interesting,” +thought Molly, and she started Millicent on the +topic of silver work. This young woman, rich +beyond calculation, had an unusual talent which +had not been neglected. She worked in silver.</p> + +<p>“Her natural medium,” Edith had observed +when she heard of it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>She could beat out chains and necklaces, rings +of antique patterns, beautiful platters with enameled +centers with all the skill of a real silversmith.</p> + +<p>Molly listened with polite interest to Millicent’s +lengthy description of her art. There was +often an unconscious flattery in the sympathetic +attention Molly gave to other people’s talk. It +had the effect of loosening tongues and brought +forth confidences and heart secrets. She was a +good listener and the repository of many a hidden +thought.</p> + +<p>“I am only going to college, you know, to +please papa,” Millicent was saying. “He thinks +I should be finished off like a piece of statuary or +a new house. I would much rather do things +with my hands. I can’t see how I am to be benefited +by all these classics. In the sort of life I +shall lead they won’t do me any good. Society +people never quote Latin and Greek or make +learned references to early Roman history and +things of that sort. It isn’t considered good +form. Modern novels are the only things people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +read nowadays, but papa is determined. Now, +with silver work, it’s quite different. I love it. +I love to make beautiful things. I have just finished +a grape-vine chain. The workmanship is +exquisite. My sitting room is my studio, you +know, and I work there when I am not busy with +stupid books. You seem interested. Do you +know anything about silver work?”</p> + +<p>Molly admitted her ignorance on the subject, +but Millicent did not pause to listen. Her voice +slurred over from the question to her next outburst.</p> + +<p>“I like beautiful rich colors. I intend to design +all the costumes for the next Shakespearean +performance. If I had been born in a different +sphere in life, I should have divided my time +between silver work and costuming. I can draw, +too, but it’s more designing than anything else.”</p> + +<p>Then Millicent, encouraged by Molly’s sympathetic +blue eyes, lowered her voice and plunged +into confidences.</p> + +<p>“The truth is,” she said, “we were not so—er—well-to-do +two generations ago. My great-grandfather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +was an Italian silversmith. Isn’t it +interesting? He was really an artist in his way, +and made wonderful vessels for the church, crucifixes, +and things like that. I tell mamma I believe +her grandfather’s soul has entered into my +body. But that isn’t all. Now, if I tell you this, +will you promise never to breathe it? It’s really +a family secret, but it accounts for my love of +rich, beautiful things. I can sew, you know. I +adore to embroider. If I had to, I could easily +make all my own clothes——”</p> + +<p>“But that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” broke +in Molly.</p> + +<p>“No, no. That isn’t the secret. The secret is +where I got the taste for such things. You promise +not to mention this?”</p> + +<p>“I promise,” replied Molly gravely, repressing +the smile that for an instant hovered on her lips.</p> + +<p>“The silversmith grandfather had a brother +who was a merchant. He had a shop in Florence +where he sold all sorts of beautiful fabrics, +velvets and brocades and lots of antique things.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No doubt it was an antique shop,” thought +Molly.</p> + +<p>“Mamma remembers it well, and the shop is +still there to-day, but it’s in other hands.”</p> + +<p>Molly felt much amusement at this explanation +of heredity. It would not be difficult to add +a few lines to Millicent’s small, thin face and +place it on the shoulders of the old silversmith +or of his brother, the dealer in antiques. How +would they feel if they could hear this granddaughter +conversing about society and the classics?</p> + +<p>“But I have rattled on. Here I have told you +two family secrets. But of course they will go +no farther. You know more about me than any +girl in Wellington. Won’t you come over to +dinner with me Saturday evening and see my +studio?”</p> + +<p>“I am so sorry,” said Molly, “but I have an +engagement,”—to try to write a sincere, natural, +simple short story, she added, in her mind.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, what a nuisance! Can you come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +Sunday? They have horrid early dinners Sunday, +but no matter.”</p> + +<p>Molly was obliged to accept, anxious as she +was to keep out of the Beta Phi crowd.</p> + +<p>“By the way, do you act?” asked Millicent +abruptly.</p> + +<p>“A little,” answered Molly, and that ended the +tea party.</p> + +<p>In the evening Judy was slightly cold to Molly. +It was almost imperceptible, so subtle was the +change, and Molly herself was hardly aware of +it until her friend, stretched on the couch reading, +suddenly closed her book with a snap and +remarked:</p> + +<p>“Considering you dislike the Beta Phi girls, +you certainly managed to monopolize one of +them.”</p> + +<p>“Judy!” remonstrated Nance, shocked at this +unaccountable exhibition of temperament.</p> + +<p>Molly said nothing whatever, and presently +she slipped off to bed.</p> + +<p>“We’ve all got our faults,” she kept saying to +herself, but she was bitterly hurt, nevertheless.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VI.<br /> + +<small>“THE BEST LAID SCHEMES.”</small></h2> + + +<p>Judy did have her failings, the faults of an +only child spoiled by indulgent parents. But they +were only on the surface, impulsive flashes of +irritability that never failed to be followed by +deep, poignant regret when the tempest had +passed.</p> + +<p>The next morning Molly was wakened by the +fragrance of violets, and, opening her eyes, she +looked straight into the heart of a big bunch of +those flowers lying on her chest.</p> + +<p>“Goodness, I feel like a corpse,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Scrawled on a card pinned to the purple tissue +ribbon around the stems of the violets was the +following inscription:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“For dearest Molly from her devoted and loving +Judy.”</p></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The poor child must have got up early this +morning and gone down to the village for them,” +she said to Nance. “And she does hate getting +up early, too.”</p> + +<p>Thus the coldness between the two girls came +to a temporary end. Molly did not go to the +Beta Phi House to dinner on Sunday. Millicent +sent word that she was ill with a headache and +would like to postpone the visit. Some of the +Shakespeareans came to the apartment of the +three girls to call one evening, but they were +Judy’s friends, invited by her to drop in and have +fudge, and Molly and Nance kept quiet and remained +in the background. If Judy was working +to get into the Shakespeareans, she should +have the field to herself. The three visitors, +seniors all of them, left early, but in some mysterious +way the news of their call spread through +the Quadrangle.</p> + +<p>“Which of you is boning for the ‘Shakespeareans’?” +Minerva Higgins demanded of Nance +next day.</p> + +<p>This irrepressible young person had already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +acquired a smattering of college slang and college +gossip. But still she had not learned the +difference between a freshman and a junior.</p> + +<p>Nance drew herself up haughtily.</p> + +<p>“Miss Higgins,” she said, “there are some +things at Wellington that are never discussed.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Excuse me</em>,” said Minerva, making an elaborate +bow.</p> + +<p>But Nance did not even notice the bow. She +had gone on her way like an injured dignitary.</p> + +<p>The air was certainly full of rumors, however. +Everybody, even the faculty, wondered upon +whose shoulders the Shakespeareans’ highly +coveted honors would fall. The new members +of this distinguished body were always chosen +after the junior play, preparations for which +were now under way. There had been first a +stormy meeting of the class. It was quite natural +for President Wakefield to want all her +particular friends to form the committee to +choose a play and select the actors, and it was +equally human of the Caroline Brinton forces to +resent the old clique rule. But Margaret was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +mighty leader and would brook no interference. +So the Queen’s girls were the ruling spirits of the +entertainment. Judy was chairman of the committee, +and was to have the principal part in the +play, it being tacitly understood that she wanted +to show the Shakespeareans what she could do.</p> + +<p>It was like the scholarly group to give a wide +berth to the modern comedies and melodramas +usually selected by juniors for this performance, +and to settle on “Twelfth Night.”</p> + +<p>“We can never do it,” Caroline Brinton had +announced in great vexation. “We haven’t time +and we have no coach.”</p> + +<p>But she had been calmly overruled and +“Twelfth Night” it was to be, with daily rehearsals +except on Saturdays, when there were +two.</p> + +<p>Molly was cast for the part of Maria, the maid. +And she was glad, chiefly because the costume +was easy. Judy was to play Viola, Edith Williams, +Malvolio, and the other parts were variously +distributed, Margaret being Sir Toby +Belch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>When a college girl reaches her junior year +her mind is well trained to concentrate and memorize. +Two years before, perhaps only Edith +Williams, whose memory was abnormal, would +have trusted herself to memorize a Shakespearean +part. But the girls were amazed now at +their own powers. Miss Pryor, teacher of elocution, +was present at many of the rehearsals, +criticizing and suggesting, and hers was the only +outside assistance the juniors had in their ambitious +production.</p> + +<p>It was probably through her that the accounts +of their ability were noised abroad, and on the +night of the play there was a great rush for seats. +The president herself was there and many of the +faculty. Professor Green had a front balcony +seat looking straight down on the stage.</p> + +<p>“Goodness, but I’m scared!” exclaimed Molly, +peeping through the hole in the curtain at the +large assembly.</p> + +<p>“Heaven help us all,” groaned Nance, dressed +as an attendant of the Duke.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk like that,” Judy admonished them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +“We must make it go off all right. Molly, don’t +you forget and be too solemn. Your part calls +for much merriment, as the notes in the book +said.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be so dictatorial,” said Nance, +under her breath, hoping instantly that Judy, in +a high state of nerves and excitement, had not +heard her.</p> + +<p>When the seniors began thumping on the floor +with their heels and the sophomores commenced +clapping, Molly’s mind became a vacuum. Not +even the first line of her part could she recall.</p> + +<p>At last the curtain went up and the play began. +She had no idea how Judy had conducted +herself. A girl near her said:</p> + +<p>“She certainly had an awful case of stage +fright, but she’ll be all right in the next act.”</p> + +<p>The words had no meaning to Molly, and she +sat like a frozen image in the wings until Nance +touched her on the shoulder and whispered:</p> + +<p>“Hurry up.”</p> + +<p>Then she stepped into the glare of the footlights. +Her blood ceased entirely to circulate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +Her hands became numb. Icy fingers seemed to +clutch her throat, and when she opened her mouth +to speak, no voice came. She remembered making +a fervent, speechless prayer.</p> + +<p>In an instant her blood began to flow normally. +She felt a wave of crimson surge into her cheeks, +and she heard her own voice speaking to Margaret, +stuffed out with sofa cushions to resemble +Sir Toby Belch.</p> + +<p>When the scene was over there was a great +clapping of hands. It sounded to Molly like a +sudden rainstorm in summer. And, like a summer +shower, it was refreshing to the young actors +in the great comedy.</p> + +<p>“Good work, Molly,” Margaret whispered. “I +think we carried that off pretty well. If only +Judy doesn’t get scared again the thing will go +all right.”</p> + +<p>“Did Judy have stage fright?” demanded +Molly, in surprise.</p> + +<p>“You mean to say you didn’t know? She almost +ruined the scene.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Poor old Judy,” thought Molly, “and just +when she wanted to do her best, too.”</p> + +<p>Judy did improve considerably as the play progressed, +but even a friendly audience has an unrelenting +way of retaining first impressions; or +perhaps it was that poor Judy, sensitive and high +strung, imagined the audience was cold to her +and so allowed her spirit to be quenched. There +were no cries for “Viola” from the people in +front, and there were many for Malvolio, Sir +Toby and Maria.</p> + +<p>Again and again these three actors came forth +and bowed their acknowledgment. During the +intermission several of the freshmen ushers carried +down bouquets of flowers. Jessie received +two from admirers who appeared to keep a running +account at the florist’s in the village. A +splendid basket of red roses and a bunch of +violets were handed over the footlights for Molly, +and when she was summoned from the wings to +appear and receive these floral offerings she +flushed crimson and remarked to the usher:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There must be some mistake. They couldn’t +be for me.”</p> + +<p>A ripple of laughter went over the entire +house. There was another burst of applause +which again brought Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky +into prominence through no fault of her +own.</p> + +<p>The card on the magnificent basket of roses +made known to her the fact that Miss Millicent +Porter had thus honored her. The card on the +violets merely said: “From a crusty old critic +who believes in your success.”</p> + +<p>“I thought Millicent Porter had a big crush on +you,” observed Margaret later in the green room. +“There’s no doubt about it now after this noble +tribute.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” said Molly. “It’s because she +has so much money and likes to spend it.”</p> + +<p>“On herself, yes, buying clothes and big lumps +of silver to play with; but not on you, Molly, dear, +unless she had been greatly taken with your +charms.”</p> + +<p>Molly had seen a few college crushes and considered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +them absurd, a kind of idol worship by +a young girl for an older one; but because she +had been so closely with her own small circle, she +had escaped a crush so far.</p> + +<p>“I’ll never believe it,” she said. “I’m much +too humble a person to be admired by such a +grand young lady. She sent the roses because +she had to recall her invitation to dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Only time will prove it, Miss Molly,” answered +Margaret.</p> + +<p>The play ended with a grand storm of applause +and college yells. Not in their wildest dreams +had the juniors hoped for such success.</p> + +<p>“It’s difficult to tell who was the best, they +were all so excellent,” the president was reported +to have said.</p> + +<p>Finally, to satisfy the persistent multitude, +each actor marched slowly in front of the curtain, +and each was received with more or less enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Rah-rah-rah; rah-rah-rah; Wellington—Wellington—Margaret +Wakefield,” they yelled; or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +“What’s the matter with Molly Brown? She’s +all right. Molly—Molly—Molly Brown.”</p> + +<p>In the intoxicating excitement of this fifteen +minutes nobody realized that Judy had withdrawn +from the group of actors and hidden herself away +somewhere behind the scenery. There was some +speculation in the audience as to why Viola had +not filed across the stage with the others, but +since Judy’s really devoted friends were all behind +the scenes, there was no one to bring her +out unless she chose to show herself with the +others.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t it simply grand?” cried Jessie, the +last to taste the sweets of popularity. The hall +was still ringing with:</p> + +<p>“Jessie—Jessie—she’s all right!” when she +bowed herself behind the curtain and joined her +classmates in the green room. Then there came +cries of:</p> + +<p>“Speech! Speech! Wakefield! Wakefield!”</p> + +<p>Margaret, as composed as a May morning, +stepped to the front of the platform and gave +one of her most appropriate addresses to the joy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +of the audience and the intense amusement of the +faculty.</p> + +<p>“Think of that child, only eighteen, and making +such a speech! They are certainly a remarkable +group of girls. So much individuality +among them,” said Miss Walker to Miss Pomeroy, +at her side.</p> + +<p>“And rare charm in some of the individuals,” +added Miss Pomeroy. “The little Brown girl, +for instance, who, by the way, is as tall as I am, +but so thin that she seems small, has magnetism +that will carry her through many a difficulty in +life. They tell me she is almost adored by her +friends.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime the juniors, entirely unconscious +of these compliments from high places, and +perhaps it was quite as well they were, had just +missed Judy from their midst.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t she go before the curtain with the rest +of us?” some one asked.</p> + +<p>“But how strange, when she had the leading +part.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I heard them give her the yell.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Judy, Judy,” called Molly.</p> + +<p>“Here I am,” answered a muffled voice from +behind the scenery.</p> + +<p>Presently Judy appeared, showing a face so +white and tragic that her friends were shocked. +With a tactful instinct most of the girls hurriedly +gathered their things together and disappeared, +leaving only the intimates in the green room.</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy, dearest, why did you hide yourself, +and you the leading lady of the company?” +exclaimed Molly reproachfully, when all outsiders +had departed.</p> + +<p>“Don’t flatter me, Molly,” Judy answered, in +a hard, strained voice.</p> + +<p>“But you were,” said Molly, “and you acted +beautifully.”</p> + +<p>“I ruined the play,” said Judy angrily. “I +ruined the entire business, and you made me do +it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Judy,” cried Molly, “you are talking +wildly. What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“You did. You upset me completely when you +said: ‘don’t be so dictatorial.’ I never heard you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +make a speech like that before. And just as I +was about to go on, too. It was cruel. It was +unkind. If it had come from any one else but +you——”</p> + +<p>“Here—here,” broke in Margaret. “Really, +Judy, you’re losing your temper.”</p> + +<p>“She never said it, anyhow,” cried Nance. “I +said it myself.”</p> + +<p>“She did say it, Nance. You’re just trying to +screen her,” replied Judy, who had worked herself +into a nervous rage.</p> + +<p>“Is this going to be a free fight?” asked Edith, +who always enjoyed battles.</p> + +<p>Molly was gathering up her things.</p> + +<p>“Not as far as I am concerned,” she answered, +in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>As she went out she looked sorrowfully back +at Judy, but not another word did she say.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Judy Kean?” +cried Nance. “You’re jealous and that’s the +whole of it,” and she flung herself out of the +door after Molly. The others quickly followed. +Certainly sympathy was against Judy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>And what of poor Judy left all alone in the +gymnasium?</p> + +<p>Torn with anger, remorse, jealousy and disappointment, +she threw herself face downward +on the empty stage.</p> + +<p>Presently the janitor came in and switched off +the lights.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VII.<br /> + +<small>A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE.</small></h2> + + +<p>Molly and Nance had little to say to each other +that night as they undressed for bed. Nance +was still filled with hot indignation over Judy’s +“falling-off” as she called it, and Molly had no +heart for conversation. The door to Judy’s bedroom +at the other end of the sitting room was +closed and they were not surprised when she did +not call “good night” as was her custom. Nobody +looked in on them. It was late and the +Quadrangle was soon perfectly still.</p> + +<p>Under the sheets, her head buried in the pillows, +Molly cried a long time, softly and quietly, +like a steady downpour of rain. It seemed somehow +that her beloved friend, Judy, had died, and +that she was grieving for her. At last, worn +out, she fell asleep. It was a very heavy sleep. +She felt as if her arms were tied and she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +sinking down into space and, as is always the +case with dreams of falling, she waked with a +nervous leap as if her body had hit the bed and +rebounded. As she fell she had dreamed that she +heard a voice calling. Never mind what it said; +already the word, whatever it was, was a mere +pin point in her memory. It had flashed through +her mind like a shooting star across the sky. It +was brilliantly illuminating for the instant. +Molly was sure that it meant a great deal. It +was an important word, and it had an urgent +significance. For the tenth of a second her mind +had been wide awake, and now it was quite dark +again.</p> + +<p>Molly leaped out of bed and began pulling on +her clothes.</p> + +<p>“Why am I dressing?” she thought. “It is +because I must—<em>hurry!”</em></p> + +<p>“Hurry,” that was the word. It came back to +her now, quietly and significantly.</p> + +<p>Nance wakened and sat up in bed.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I must hurry. Don’t stop +me,” answered Molly.</p> + +<p>Nance looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>“You’ve had a nightmare, Molly,” she said.</p> + +<p>Molly glanced up vaguely as Nance switched +on the light.</p> + +<p>“Have I? I don’t know, but I must make +haste, or I’ll be too late.”</p> + +<p>“Too late for what?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet.”</p> + +<p>“Wake up, Molly. You’re asleep. Nothing is +going to happen. You are here, in your own +room.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes. I understand, but I must hurry. +Don’t stop me, Nance. You may come if you +like, but don’t stop me.”</p> + +<p>Nance had often heard that it was dangerous +to awaken sleepwalkers too suddenly, and she +believed now as she saw Molly slipping on her +skirt and sweater that she was certainly asleep.</p> + +<p>“Dearest Molly,” she insisted. “This is college. +You are in your own room. It’s a quarter +to twelve. Don’t go out of the room.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly took no notice. Nance turned on another +light and slipped across to Judy’s room. +She must have help, and Judy was the nearest +person.</p> + +<p>“Judy’s not in her room,” she exclaimed suddenly, +in a scared voice.</p> + +<p>Molly gave a slight shudder.</p> + +<p>“It’s Judy who needs me,” she said. “I was +trying to remember. I couldn’t make it out at +first. Put on your things, Nance. Don’t delay. +Put out the light. We must hurry.”</p> + +<p>Nance got into a few clothes as fast as she +could. She slipped on tennis shoes and an ulster +and presently the two girls were standing in the +corridor.</p> + +<p>“Where are we going, Molly?” asked Nance, +now under the spell of the other’s conviction.</p> + +<p>“This way,” answered Molly, looking indeed +like a sleepwalker as she glided down the hall to +the main steps.</p> + +<p>If the girls had glanced back they would have +noticed a figure creep softly after them.</p> + +<p>“But the gate is locked,” objected Nance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I know, but we’ll find another way. Come +on.”</p> + +<p>Down the steps they hastened noiselessly. At +the bottom, instead of going straight ahead, +Molly turned to the left and led the way to a sitting +room for visitors on the ground floor of the +tower. The windows of the Tower Room, as it +was known, looked out on the campus. They +were small, deep-silled, and closed with iron-bound +wooden shutters like the doors into the +cloisters. Mounting a bench, Molly opened the +inside glass casement of one of the windows and +drew back the bolt which secured the shutter. +Then she hoisted herself onto the sill, crawled +through the window, and holding by both hands +dropped to the ground. Nance, of a more practical +temperament, wondered how they would +ever get back into the Tower Room; but blind, +unquestioning faith is an infinitely stronger staff +to lean upon than uneasy speculation, as Nance +was one day to find out.</p> + +<p>“When the night watchman makes his rounds, +will he see the window open in the tower?” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +thought. “And if he does, what will he do? +Give the alarm at once or try to find out our +names and report us? If he reports us, what +then? We may be expelled, or suspended or +punished in some awful way.”</p> + +<p>So Nance’s thoughts busily shaped out these +tragic events as she followed Molly out of the +window and dropped to the gravel walk below. +The tower clock struck twelve while the two girls +flitted across the campus. It was a strange adventure, +Nance pondered, and one she would +never have undertaken, or even considered, alone. +But then her instincts were not like Molly’s. The +inner voice which spoke to her sometimes was +usually the sharp, reproving voice of a Puritan +conscience. It spoke to her now, but she turned +a deaf ear to it for once.</p> + +<p>It told her how absurd she would appear to +other people in this dangerous midnight escapade; +what risks she was running. Judy, of +course, had spent the night with one of the other +girls, it said. It troubled her mind with whispers +of doubts and fears; it ridiculed and abused her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +but not once did it weaken her determination to +follow Molly wherever she intended to go. And +presently, when Molly quickened her footsteps +into a run, Nance kept right at her elbow like a +noonday shadow, foreshortened and broadened.</p> + +<p>Molly turned in the direction of the lake. +Nance’s heart gave a violent thump. She had +believed all along that they were taking a short +cut across to the gymnasium, instead of following +the gravel walk.</p> + +<p>“Molly, you don’t think——” she began +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk now. Hurry,” was Molly’s brief +reply.</p> + +<p>Across a corner of the golf course they flew, +and before Nance could take breath for another +dash through a fringe of pine trees she caught +sight of the waters, as black as ink. She clutched +Molly’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear anything?” she asked, in a +frightened whisper.</p> + +<p>They waited a moment, straining their ears in +the darkness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>From the middle of the lake came the sound of +a canoe paddle dipping into the water.</p> + +<p>Molly breathed a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” she said, and they hastened +down to the platform of the boathouse.</p> + +<p>In another moment they had launched a small +rowboat and were out on the lake.</p> + +<p>“Will Judy Kean never learn sense?” Nance +thought impatiently. “She’s just like a prairie +fire. It only takes a spark to set her going and +then she burns up everything in sight.”</p> + +<p>Nance had never been able to understand why +Judy could not hold her passionate, excitable +temperament more in control. She, herself, had +learned self-denial at an early age. But that was +because she had a selfish mother.</p> + +<p>“How did you ever guess she would be here, +Molly?” she asked, as the prow of the boat cut +softly through the waters of the lake with a musical +ripple.</p> + +<p>Nance was rowing, and Molly, who had never +learned to handle oars, was sitting facing her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I dreamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +that some one said ‘hurry,’ and the lake seemed +to be the place to come to.”</p> + +<p>Some two hundred feet beyond they now made +out the silhouette of a canoe. Judy—of course it +was Judy; already they recognized the outline of +her slender figure—kneeling in the bottom of the +boat, had stopped paddling. She held up her +head like a startled animal when it scents danger. +It occurred to Nance, watching her over her +shoulder as they drew nearer, that there was +really something wild and untamed in Judy’s +nature. She remembered that, the first morning +they had met her at Queen’s, Judy had laughingly +announced that she had been born at sea on a +stormy night. But it was no joking matter, +Nance was thinking, and she fervently wished +that Judy would learn to quell her troubled +moods.</p> + +<p>The next instant the two boats touched prows. +The little canoe, the most delicate and sensitive +craft that there is, quivered violently with the +shock of the collision and sprang back. As it +bounded forward again, Molly held out her hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +Instinctively Judy grasped it, and the two boats +drew alongside each other.</p> + +<p>“Crawl into our boat, Judy, dearest,” said +Molly. “It will be easier to pull the canoe to +shore if it’s empty.”</p> + +<p>Judy prepared silently to obey. But a canoe +is not a thing to be reckoned with at critical moments. +Just as Judy raised her foot to step into +the other boat, the treacherous little craft shot +from under her, and over she toppled, headforemost +into the waters. Fortunately, she was an +excellent swimmer, and the star diver of the +gymnasium pool. But the lake was not deep, +and when she came up, sputtering and puffing, +she found herself standing in water that was +only shoulder high.</p> + +<p>Nance often thought, in looking back on this +painful episode, that nothing they could have +said to Judy would have brought her so completely +to her senses as this cold ducking. Certainly, +if Judy had actually planned to jump into +the lake, her wishes were most ludicrously carried +out, and the struggle she now made to climb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +back into the boat showed that she was not anxious +to stay any longer than she could help in the +icy bath. It was a sight for laughter more than +for tears, sensible Nance pondered with a slight +feeling of contempt—that of Judy, struggling +and kicking to draw herself into the boat. Indeed, +she almost managed to upset them, too; +but she did tumble in somehow, shivering and +wet but extremely contrite.</p> + +<p>“How did you know I was out here?” was the +first question she put, when, having seized the +rope on the prow of the canoe, they headed for +shore.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know. I only guessed,” answered +Molly.</p> + +<p>“She was up and dressed before she even knew +you were not in your room,” announced Nance.</p> + +<p>“I was a fool,” exclaimed Judy, “and I know +now what good friends you are to have come for +me. I don’t know exactly what I intended to do +out here,” she went on brokenly. “I felt ashamed +to face any one, even mamma and papa. I +might——” she broke off, shivering. Rivulets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +of water were pouring from her wet clothing +into the bottom of the boat. She still wore the +costume she had worn in the last scene of the +play.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you my ulster as soon as we land, +Judy,” said Nance, rowing with long rapid +strokes which sent the boat skimming over the +water.</p> + +<p>“I’m just a low-down worthless dog,” went on +Judy, taking no notice of Nance’s interruption. +“There’s no good trying to apologize, Molly. +Words don’t mean anything. But when the +chance comes—and the chance always does come +if you want it—I’ll be able to show you how +sorry I am for what I did, and how much I really +love you.”</p> + +<p>“You showed me what a real friend you were +last winter, Judy,” broke in Molly, “when you +gave up your room at Queen’s for my sake. I +wasn’t angry about what happened at the gym. +I was hurt of course because I’m a sensitive +plant, but I knew it would be all right in the end +because we are too close to each other now to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +let a few hasty words come between us. But +here we are at the boat landing.”</p> + +<p>Having tied the two boats in the boat house, +which was never kept locked, they hurried back +to college. Nance insisted upon Judy’s putting +on her ulster.</p> + +<p>“You know I’m never cold,” she said.</p> + +<p>“You girls will just kill me with kindness,” exclaimed +Judy humbly.</p> + +<p>But Nance did not even hear this abject +speech. The question of how they were to get +back into the Quadrangle was occupying her +mind.</p> + +<p>“We’re taking an awful risk,” she observed to +Molly, in a low voice. “There is no other way +but the window, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t think of any other way,” answered +Molly, “unless we ring the bell over the gate and +alarm the entire dormitory.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose the night watchman has closed the +window? What then?” demanded Nance.</p> + +<p>“Why, we’ll just have to find some other way, +then,” answered her optimistic friend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the window in the Tower Room was wide +open, just as they had left it.</p> + +<p>The doubting Nance still had another theory.</p> + +<p>“Suppose the night watchman has left it open +on purpose to catch us when we come back?” she +suggested.</p> + +<p>“I do wish you would stop hunting up troubles, +Nance,” ejaculated Molly irritably. “I never +found supposing did any good, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Nance, thus rebuked, said nothing more.</p> + +<p>Molly, boosted by the other girls, pulled herself +onto the window sill and climbed into the +room. She looked about her cautiously. But +Nance’s fears were groundless so far. The +room was perfectly empty.</p> + +<p>“Let down a chair,” whispered Judy.</p> + +<p>There were no small chairs about, however, +and she was obliged to choose a bench.</p> + +<p>“How are we to get it back again?” she asked, +after Nance had clambered in, and Judy, halfway +through, paused to consider this question.</p> + +<p>“Hurry, the watchman,” hissed Nance, on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +lookout at the door. “He’s coming down the +side corridor.”</p> + +<p>The next instant Judy had leaped into the +room, and the three girls were tearing along the +hall and up the steps, Judy leaving a trail of +water behind her. The watchman had seen +them. They could hear the beat of his steps on +the cement floor as he ran. The fugitives +reached the upper corridor just as he arrived at +the first landing on the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Kick off your pumps, Judy, and pick up your +skirts. He’ll trace us by the wet trail if you +don’t.”</p> + +<p>Another dash and they were in their sitting +room, the door locked behind them. Oh, blessed +relief!</p> + +<p>Judy, in her stocking feet, was holding up her +skirts with both hands. Nance had seized one +of the slippers and she thought that Molly had +the other.</p> + +<p>But the final excitement of that eventful night +was veiled in mystery.</p> + +<p>As they had burst into their sitting room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +some one ran swiftly across the room, through +the passage into Judy’s room and into the corridor. +They dared not follow and run the risk +of meeting the night watchman, probably standing +at that moment at the end of the corridor +trying to trace that path of water, which, thanks +be to Nance’s prudence, ended there and was lost +on the green strip of carpet.</p> + +<p>Below in the Tower Room the windows of the +casement flapped back and forth in the wind +which was rising steadily, and on the path below +stood that telltale bench.</p> + +<p>“Anyhow,” said Molly, “there’s only one person +who knows we were out to-night and, whoever +she is, she can’t tell without giving herself +away.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> + +<small>COVERING THEIR TRACKS.</small></h2> + + +<p>When the dressing bell rang next morning, +three heavy-eyed and extremely weary young +women felt obliged to pull themselves together +and appear at the breakfast table. Judy had +caught cold, and to disguise this condition had +plastered pink powder on her nose, and now held +her breath almost to suffocation to avoid coughing +in public.</p> + +<p>“Have you heard the news?” demanded Jessie, +hurrying in late and sitting next to Nance.</p> + +<p>“Why, no. What is it?” asked Nance calmly.</p> + +<p>Molly felt the color rising in her cheeks, and +Judy buried her snuffles in a long letter from her +mother.</p> + +<p>“There’s the greatest tale going around the +Quadrangle! Everybody is talking about it,” +continued Jessie. “One of the chambermaids<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +started it, I think, because she told it to me just +now.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?” asked Edith Williams impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Some of the Quadrangle girls were out last +night gallivanting. They climbed through the +Tower Room window, left a bench outside and +the window open. I suppose the watchman +frightened them before they could hide all +traces.”</p> + +<p>“That sounds like a wild freak,” commented +Katherine. “What do you suppose they were +doing?”</p> + +<p>“They might have been doing lots of things,” +replied Jessie mysteriously. “The maid said the +watchman thought they had been driving or motoring +with some Exmoor boys.”</p> + +<p>“Whew!” ejaculated a sophomore. “I’m sorry +for them if they are found out. I happen to +know Prexy’s feelings about escapades like +that.”</p> + +<p>“Why? Were you ever caught?”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not. Don’t you see me sitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +here at the table? But my older sister was in +the class with a girl who was caught. She was +a campus girl.”</p> + +<p>“What happened to her?” demanded Judy, forgetting +her cold in the interest of the story.</p> + +<p>“Bounced,” answered the sophomore briefly.</p> + +<p>The Williamses and Jessie looked at Judy with +mixed feelings of surprise; not because they noticed +her cold or regarded it with any suspicion, +but because, when they had parted company with +her the night before she had been in the throes of +a jealous rage and had spoken most insultingly +to her best friend. Their glances shifted to +Molly. The two girls were seated side by side. +Judy was leaning affectionately against Molly’s +shoulder while they looked together at a picture +post card sent by Mary Stewart from France.</p> + +<p>“All bets are off,” whispered Edith to her sister. +“They have made it up. Molly is an angel +of forgiveness. We were wrong for once.”</p> + +<p>“And Margaret was correct.”</p> + +<p>“A pound of Mexican kisses and two pounds +of mixed chocolates,” said Margaret in Edith’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +other ear. “I’ve won my bet, I hope you’ll take +notice.”</p> + +<p>“We were just taking notice,” answered Edith.</p> + +<p>“But there’s some more of the story,” piped +out Jessie again. “Don’t you want to hear the +most exciting part?”</p> + +<p>“Heavens, yes. Did they catch them?” asked +several voices.</p> + +<p>“No, no, but one of the girls was wet,” announced +Jessie impressively. “She left a trail +of water after her all the way up the steps.”</p> + +<p>“I should think they could have traced her by +that,” said Margaret.</p> + +<p>“They could have if she had kept on trailing, +but she must have remembered and held up her +skirt, for it stopped right there.”</p> + +<p>“Wise lady,” put in Katherine.</p> + +<p>“She must have been canoeing and not driving, +then,” observed Margaret. “Else why the +significant fact of wet clothes?”</p> + +<p>“Nice night to go canoeing in, cold and dark. +Strange notion of pleasure,” remarked Edith.</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s more still to come,” announced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +Jessie, when they had finished commenting on +this remarkable escapade.</p> + +<p>“For heaven’s sake, Jessie, you’re like a serial +story of adventure—a thriller in every chapter. +What now?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Jessie, “you may well prepare for +a thriller this time. The watchman found something.”</p> + +<p>“What? What?” they cried, and Nance, Judy +and Molly joined in the chorus with as much excitement +as any of the others.</p> + +<p>“He found a slipper.”</p> + +<p>Judy made an enormous effort to keep her hand +from trembling, as she raised her coffee cup to +her dry, feverish lips. Molly, as usual under excitement, +changed from white to red and red to +white. Nance alone seemed perfectly calm.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how they can prove anything by +that,” she observed. “There are probably fifty +girls or even a hundred who wear the same size +shoes here. Molly is the only girl I know of +who wears a peculiar size, six and a half triple +A.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, ‘one thing is certain and the rest is +lies,’ as old Omar remarked,” said Margaret, +rising from the table, “and that is, all juniors +can prove an alibi last night. No junior would +ever go gallivanting on the night of the junior +play.”</p> + +<p>“Hardly,” answered Nance, who had risen to +the occasion with fine spirit and tact. Molly’s +face resumed its normal color and Judy looked +relieved.</p> + +<p>“The thing they will have to do,” said Edith, +“is to find the other slipper. And if the owner +of that slipper takes my advice she’ll drop it down +the deepest well in Wellington County.”</p> + +<p>Molly and Nance and Judy hurried through +breakfast and rushed back to their apartment. +They locked all the doors carefully and gathered +in Judy’s room.</p> + +<p>“We have nearly fifteen minutes before +chapel,” said Nance, speaking rapidly. “Judy, +are your things dry? Get them quickly. They +may search our rooms. Miss Walker is pretty +determined once she’s roused, I hear.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judy gathered up the stiff, rough-dry garments +that had been hanging on the heater all night, +while Molly found tossed in a corner the mate +to the fatal slipper. Judy held up Viola’s dress +of old rose velvet.</p> + +<p>“It’s ruined,” she exclaimed, “and that’s another +complication. Suppose——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t suppose,” interrupted Molly hastily, +snatching the dress away from her. “Hurry, +Nance, where shall we put them?”</p> + +<p>For a temporary safe hiding place they chose +the interior of the upright piano. Then they +hastily made their beds, set their dressing tables +to rights and dashed off to chapel just as the +matron appeared on an ostensible tour of inspection.</p> + +<p>It was possible that she was not being very +vigilant with the juniors, however, that particular +morning, knowing that they were one and all +engaged in producing a very important play the +night before. At any rate, she only glanced +casually around, saw nothing incriminating and +departed to the next room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>The president looked grave and worried at +chapel, but, contrary to expectations, she had +nothing to say after the prayer.</p> + +<p>“It’s a bad sign,” observed a student. “When +Prexy doesn’t say anything, she means business.”</p> + +<p>Except for a few moments at lunch, the three +girls did not meet in private consultation again +until late in the afternoon. There was a busy +sign on their study door. Molly smiled knowingly +to herself, and gave the masonic tap.</p> + +<p>“It’s a good idea,” she thought, “and will keep +out inquisitive people until we decide what to +do.”</p> + +<p>She found Judy stretched on the sofa, feverish +and coughing, while Nance was dosing her with +a large dose of quinine and an additional dose of +sweet spirits of niter.</p> + +<p>“You’re going to kill me, Nance,” Judy was +grumbling.</p> + +<p>“For heaven’s sake, be quiet,” scolded Nance. +“You haven’t any voice to waste. Molly, will +you make her a hot lemonade? I think we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +better get her to bed and cover her up with all +the comforts so as to bring on a perspiration.”</p> + +<p>“Only one?” inquired Judy.</p> + +<p>“Get up from there and go to bed,” ordered +Nance. “The inspection is over and there won’t +be any chance of another one to-day. You’ll +have to miss supper to-night. We’ll say you have +one of your sick headaches.”</p> + +<p>Judy obediently got out of her things while +Molly flew around making hot lemonade, and +Nance hung a blanket over the heater and pulled +down their three winter comforts off a shelf in +the closet.</p> + +<p>Judy meekly allowed herself to be smothered +under a mountain of covers, while she drank the +lemonade with childish enjoyment.</p> + +<p>“You always make good ones, Molly, darling, +because you put in enough sugar. I’ll probably +be melted into a fountain of perspiration like +Undine, only she went away in tears,” she complained +presently.</p> + +<p>“That’s the object of the treatment,” answered +Nance sternly. “Whatever is left of you after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +the melting process is over is quite well of the +cold.”</p> + +<p>Molly could have laughed if she had not been +thinking of something else very hard.</p> + +<p>The two girls sat down on the divan and began +a subdued and earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>“What are we to do with these things, Molly? +We can’t leave them in the piano because the +moment some one sits down to play we’ll be discovered.”</p> + +<p>“Murderers take up the planks in the floor and +hide their bloodstained clothing underneath,” observed +Molly. “But we can’t do that, of course.”</p> + +<p>They took the bundle from its hiding place and +looked over the garments.</p> + +<p>“I have an idea,” announced Nance, who had +many practical notions on the subject of clothes. +“Suppose we take the dress to the cleaner’s in +the village and have it steamed.”</p> + +<p>“Why can’t we steam it ourselves over the tea +kettle?” demanded Molly. “We can and we’ll +do it right now and press it on the wrong side. +If it hadn’t been so much admired, it wouldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +matter so very much, but some one’s sure to ask +to see it or borrow it or something. How about +the underclothes? Can’t we smooth them out +with a hot iron before they go to the laundry?”</p> + +<p>They set to work at once to heat water and +irons, and presently were engaged in restoring +the old rose velvet to a semblance of its former +beauty.</p> + +<p>“What are we going to do about that slipper?” +demanded Molly, pausing in her labors.</p> + +<p>“I’ve made up my mind to that,” replied Nance. +“We must bury it.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER IX.<br /> + +<small>THE GRAVE DIGGERS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Three times during the night Molly and Nance +crept into Judy’s room and looked at her anxiously. +She seemed to be sleeping heavily, but +she tossed about the bed with feverish restlessness, +and her forehead was burning hot.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning the faithful friends were +up again, tipping about like two wraiths of the +dawn in their trailing dressing gowns.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bathe her face and hands before she takes +any tea,” said Molly. “She’s awake. I saw her +open her eyes when I peeped in just now.”</p> + +<p>Judy was awake and sitting bolt upright when +they presently entered with the basin and towels. +There was a strange look in her eyes. Molly +remembered to have seen it before when Judy was +in the grip of the wander thirst.</p> + +<p>“Here you are, Sweet Spirits of Niter,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +cried, in a hoarse, excited voice. “Knowst thou +the land of Sweet Spirits of Niter?” she began +singing. “Knowst thou the Sweet Spirits? They +are tall, slender, gray ladies done in long curving +lines, like that.” She illustrated her ideas of +these strange beings by sketching a picture on an +imaginary canvas. “They lean against slim +trees. They have soft musical voices and speak +gently because they are sweet. You see? And +the Land of Niter, what of it? It is a land of +gray mists, always in twilight, and the Sweet +Spirits who live in it are shadows. It is a sad +land, but it is still and quiet and there are cool +fountains everywhere. Sweet spirit, wouldst +give me to drink of thy cup?”</p> + +<p>Molly and Nance laughed. They knew that +Judy was delirious, but it was impossible not to +laugh over her strange, poetic illusion regarding +sweet spirits of niter. Setting down the basin +and towel, they retreated to the next room.</p> + +<p>“We’d better make her a cup of beef tea as +quickly as we can,” said Nance. “That will +quench her thirst and nourish her at the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +time. Good heavens, Molly, what shall we do if +she begins to talk about the slipper and the lake?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Molly, lighting the +alcohol lamp, while Nance found the jar of beef +extract. “I wish you hadn’t given her so much +physic, Nance.” Molly had a deep-rooted objection +to medicine, while Nance, on the other +hand, was a firm believer in old-fashioned remedies. +“Her stomach was in no condition for all +that stuff. It was utterly upset. Her gastric +juices had been lashed into a storm and hadn’t +had time to subside.”</p> + +<p>Nance smiled at Molly’s ignorance.</p> + +<p>“You are getting the emotions and the stomach +mixed, Molly, dear.”</p> + +<p>Now, Molly had her own ideas on this subject, +but it was vain to argue with her friend, the +actual proprietor of a real medicine chest marked +“Household Remedies,” which contained more +than a dozen phials of physics.</p> + +<p>Judy was, in fact, paying the penalty for her +mental storm when on the night of the play she +had run through the whole scale of emotions, beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +with stage fright and an awful fear and +passing into mortification, disappointment, rage, +remorse and finally sorrow, or it might be called +self-pity, which inspired her to launch a canoe +and paddle into the middle of the lake at midnight. +It will never be known how near she +came to jumping into the lake. It is difficult to +reckon with an unrestrained, hypersensitive nature +like hers, always up in the heights or down +in the depths; sometimes capable of splendid +acts of generosity and unselfishness, but capable +also of inflicting cruel punishments for imagined +offences.</p> + +<p>Nance was for more medicine.</p> + +<p>“Suppose I give her a big dose of castor oil, +Molly,” she suggested, while she stirred the tea. +“She had better take it before she drinks this.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness, Nance, you’ll kill her,” exclaimed +Molly, horrified. “Don’t you see that it is entirely +a mental thing with Judy? What she needs +is absolute quiet, and the quinine has probably +excited her and made her delirious. She doesn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +need things to stimulate her. She’s almost effervescent +in her normal condition, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“Castor oil isn’t a stimulant, child.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not, but she’d better not be upset +any more,” and in the end Molly had her way.</p> + +<p>Returning in a few moments to bathe Judy’s +face, she found the sick girl half out of bed.</p> + +<p>“Get back into bed, Judy,” she said firmly. +“You’re to have a nice quiet day in here and no +one to bother you.”</p> + +<p>“But the slipper. I’m looking for the other +slipper,” began Judy, weeping. “Oh, dear, I +must find the slipper. Nance, Molly, the slipper, +have you seen the slipper, the old oaken slipper, +the iron-bound slipper that hangs in the well. If +it’s in the well now, drop it to the bottom. I hope +it’s a deep well, the deepest well in Well County.”</p> + +<p>It was unkind to laugh, but Molly could not +keep her countenance.</p> + +<p>“I might have known,” she thought, “that +Judy could be more delirious than anybody in the +world.”</p> + +<p>Judy submitted to having her face bathed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +drank the beef tea without a murmur. She appeared +greatly refreshed and quieted and said a +few rational words about having had bad dreams.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday morning, frosty and bright. +The bell of the Catholic Church in the village +called devotees to early mass. It rang out joyfully +and persuasively, reiterating its message to +unbelievers. It was a cheerful sound and, in +spite of Judy’s troubles, they felt comforted. +The steam heat began its pleasant matins in the +pipes. The kettle on the alcohol stove hummed +busily. Molly began to make preparations for +breakfast. Although she was not self-indulgent, +discomfort was never an acceptable state to her.</p> + +<p>“Get your bath, Nance,” she ordered, “and +then you can come back and make the toast while +I take mine.”</p> + +<p>Nance departed for the bathrooms with soap +and towels, while Molly busied herself spreading +a lunch cloth on one of the study tables and +placing a blue china bowl full of oranges in the +center. Then she carefully extracted four eggs +from a paper bag in a box on the outer window<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +ledge; cut four thin, even slices of bread to be +inserted in Judy’s patent electric toaster, and at +intervals poured boiling water through the dripper +into the coffee pot.</p> + +<p>“If I were at home this morning,” she said, “I +would be eating hot waffles and kidney hash.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly she looked up. Judy was standing +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Molly,” she said, “I want my slipper.”</p> + +<p>Molly took her hand and gently led her back +to bed.</p> + +<p>“Judy, would you like a cup of delicious, +strong, hot coffee?” she asked, endeavoring to divert +Judy’s quinine-charged senses.</p> + +<p>“Very much, but the slipper——” Judy began +to whimper like a child.</p> + +<p>Molly hurried into the next room, found one of +Nance’s slippers and gravely handed it to Judy, +who grasped it carefully with both hands as if +it were something very precious and brittle.</p> + +<p>“When I gave her your slipper, Nance, I felt +something like the old witch who had kidnapped +the Queen’s infant and put a changeling in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +place,” Molly observed later, in telling about this +incident to Nance. “But there is nothing to do +but humor her, I suppose, until the influence of +the quinine wears off.”</p> + +<p>“Where has she got it now?” asked Nance, +ignoring Molly’s allusions to quinine.</p> + +<p>“What? The changeling slipper? Under her +pillow.”</p> + +<p>Nance laughed.</p> + +<p>“I’m thinking, Molly,” she remarked, “that +to-day would be an excellent time to get rid of +that other slipper. I don’t feel as if I could sleep +comfortably another night in these rooms with +the guilty thing around. Until we dig a hole and +bury it deep, we shall never have any peace of +mind.”</p> + +<p>Molly was carefully peeling the shell from the +end of an egg.</p> + +<p>“Do you think we could leave her alone this +afternoon?” she asked. “How long does quinine +continue its ravages?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, not long,” answered Nance, in a most +matter of fact voice. “She’s such a sensitive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +subject, that is the trouble. Quinine doesn’t usually +make people take on so. I never met any +one so excitable and high strung as Judy. She +gets her nerves tuned up to such a high pitch +sometimes that I wonder they don’t snap in two.”</p> + +<p>“Nance, don’t you think we ought to confess +the whole thing to Miss Walker?”</p> + +<p>“Do you think Judy would ever forgive us if +we did?”</p> + +<p>Molly sighed.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid not,” she said. “Confessing +would involve so much. We would have to go +back so far to the original cause, those wretched +Shakespeareans. It would be pretty hard on poor +old Judy. But the slipper, Nance—it’s such a +ridiculous thing, our hiding that slipper. Where +shall we hide it?”</p> + +<p>“We must dig a grave and bury it,” said +Nance, “and we must do it this afternoon and +get the thing off our minds. Then all evidence +will be destroyed and there will be no possible +way of finding out about Judy.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You have forgotten about the visitor to our +room in the night.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” admitted Nance, “there is that visitor. +Who was she? What did she want? You +haven’t missed anything, have you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Molly. “I have nothing valuable +enough to steal except old Martin Luther, +and he’s quite safe.”</p> + +<p>She reached for the china pig on the bookshelves +and shook him carefully. His interior +gave out a musical jingle.</p> + +<p>Clothed and fed and comforted, the two girls +leaned back in their Morris chairs, with extra +cups of coffee resting on the chair arms, to consider +the question of Judy’s slipper. At last they +came to a mutual agreement.</p> + +<p>Otoyo, the safest, discreetest and least inquisitive +of their friends, was to be taken partly into +their confidence and left to look after Judy while +they went on their mysterious errand. Otoyo, +who had the racial peculiarity of the Japanese of +never being surprised at anything, accepted this +position of trust without a comment. Few students<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +took Sunday morning walks at Wellington, +and therefore morning was the safest time for +the expedition. Judy, reënforced with a soft-boiled +egg and a cup of coffee, appeared perfectly +rational and quiet. She surrendered the +slipper without a murmur, and turning over on +her side dropped off to sleep. A Not-at-Home +sign was hung on the door and Otoyo was cautioned +not to let any one into Judy’s room. She +was to say to all callers that Judy had a headache +and was asleep.</p> + +<p>Dressed for a tramp, with Judy’s slipper in +one of the deep pockets of Nance’s ulster, and a +knife, fork and table spoon for digging purposes +in the other, the two girls presently left Otoyo +on the floor immersed in study. They had +scarcely closed the door when Judy called from +the next room:</p> + +<p>“Bring me that slipper, Otoyo.”</p> + +<p>And the little Japanese, with a puzzled look on +her face, obeyed.</p> + +<p>As they hastened down the corridor, hoping +devoutly not to meet intimate friends, Molly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +Nance were stopped by the irrepressible Minerva +Higgins.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t this a stroke of luck?” she exclaimed. +“You are going for a walk and so am I. I was +just on the lookout for somebody. Girls here +are so industrious Sunday mornings, I can never +get any one to go walking until afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Molly was silent. At that moment she yearned +for the courage of Nance, who with a word could +scatter Minerva’s cheeky assurance like chaff +before the wind.</p> + +<p>“It’s lack of character, I suppose,” she thought +disconsolately. “But I couldn’t crush a fly, much +less that presumptuous little freshman.”</p> + +<p>She stood back, therefore, and let Nance have +a clear field for the struggle.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind to offer us your company, +Miss Higgins, but we must beg to be excused to-day,” +said Nance calmly.</p> + +<p>“I call that a nice, Sunday-morning, Christian +spirit,” cried Minerva, with an angry flash in +her small, pig-like eyes.</p> + +<p>“No, no, Minerva,” put in Molly gently. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +must not think that way about it. Nance and I +have some important business to discuss, that’s +all. You mustn’t imagine it’s unkind when older +girls turn you down sometimes. You know it +isn’t customary here for a freshman to invite +herself to join an older girl. I believe it isn’t +customary in any college. Don’t be angry, +please.”</p> + +<p>Hidden under layers of vanity, selfishness and +stupid assurance, was Minerva’s better self +which Molly hoped to reach, and some day she +would break through the crust, but not this +morning.</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell me anything about upper-class girls—conceited +snobs! I know all about them,” exclaimed +Minerva angrily, as she marched down +the corridor in a high state of rage.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bother about her. She’s a hopeless +case, just as Margaret said,” remarked Nance.</p> + +<p>Once off the campus, they followed the path +along the lake and turned their faces toward +Round Head as being the spot most apt to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +deserted at that hour in the morning. It was not +long before they were climbing the steep hill.</p> + +<p>“Where shall we lay it to rest, poor weary little +<em>sole?”</em> asked Nance, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Let’s dig the grave on the Exmoor side,” answered +Molly. “Behind one of those big rocks +is a good spot. We’ll be hidden from sight and +the ground is softer there.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly002" id="molly002"></a> +<img src="images/molly002.jpg" width="400" height="588" alt="THEY SET TO WORK TO DIG A SMALL GRAVE FOR JUDY’S SLIPPER.—Page 129." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">THEY SET TO WORK TO DIG A SMALL GRAVE FOR JUDY’S SLIPPER.—<i>Page 129.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>Talking and giggling, because after all they +were entirely innocent of any wrongdoing, they +set to work to dig a small grave for Judy’s slipper.</p> + +<p>“When the earth casts up its dead on the Day +of Judgment, Nance, do you suppose this slipper +will seek its mate?”</p> + +<p>“I hope it won’t seek it any sooner,” answered +Nance dryly.</p> + +<p>At last the grave was ready. They laid the +slipper in the hole, carefully covered it with +earth, and concealed all evidences of recent disturbance +with bits of grass and splinters of +rock.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Molly, leaning against the side of the +boulder and clasping her hands, remarked:</p> + +<p>“Let this be its epitaph:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘Under the wide and starry sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dig the grave and let me lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glad did I live and gladly die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I laid me down with a will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘This be the verse you ’grave for me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here he lies where he longed to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home is the sailor, home from the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hunter home from the hill.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Scarcely had the last words died on her lips +when Nance gave a low, horrified exclamation. +Molly glanced up quickly. Just above them in +the shadow of another big rock stood Professor +Green in his old gray suit. So still was he that +he might have been a part of the geological formation +of the hill, planted there centuries ago. +Molly felt the hot blood mount to her face. How +long had he been there? How much had he +seen? What did he think? Forcing its way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +through all these wild speculations came another +thought: there was a brown coffee stain on one +of his trouser legs. She tried to speak, but the +words refused to come, and before she could get +herself in hand, the professor coldly lifted his +hat and walked away.</p> + +<p>In his glance she read <small>DISAPPOINTMENT</small> as +plainly as if it had been written across his brow +in letters of fire.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nance,” she cried, and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>“He won’t tell, even if he has seen,” Nance +reassured her. “Don’t mind, Molly, dear. Come +along. I’m not afraid.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not that! It’s not that!” sobbed Molly. +But then, of course, Nance wouldn’t understand +what it really was, because she hardly understood +it herself. He believed, of course, that she +had gone rowing with some Exmoor boys after +ten o’clock. He had heard the story of the slipper. +Everybody had heard it. It was the talk +of college. For a moment Molly felt a wave of +resentment against Judy. Then her anger +shifted to Professor Green.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>“At least he might have given us a chance to +explain,” she exclaimed, as she followed Nance +along the lake path back to the campus.</p> + +<p>As soon as they entered the room, a little while +later, they saw by Otoyo’s face that something +had happened.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” they demanded uneasily.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” ejaculated Otoyo, raising both hands +with an eloquent gesture, “it was that terrible +Mees Heegins. You had but scarcely departing +gone when there came to the door a rap-rap-rap—so. +I thought it was you returning, and when +I open, she push her way in, so.”</p> + +<p>Otoyo gave an imitation of Minerva forcing +her way into the sitting room.</p> + +<p>“She say: ‘I wish to see Mees Kean on a particular +business.’ I say: ‘Mees Kean has a sickness +to her head.’ She say: ‘Move away, little +yellow peril. Don’t interfere with me. I wish +to inquire after her health.’ Then she make +great endeavors to remove me from the door.”</p> + +<p>“And what did you do, Otoyo?” they asked +anxiously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>Otoyo’s face took on an expression half humorous +and half deprecating.</p> + +<p>“It will not make you angry with little Japanese +girl?”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not, child.”</p> + +<p>“I employ jiu jitsu.”</p> + +<p>The girls both laughed, and Otoyo, relieved, +joined in the merriment.</p> + +<p>“She receive no bruises, but she receive a +shock, because it arrive so suddenlee, you see? +So she quietlee walk away and say no more.”</p> + +<p>“You adorable little Japanese girl,” cried +Molly, embracing her.</p> + +<p>Nance opened the door and peeped into Judy’s +room.</p> + +<p>She was sleeping quietly, the slipper clasped in +both hands.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER X.<br /> + +<small>A VISIT OF STATE.</small></h2> + + +<p>Judy still slept the sleep of the exhausted. +Her tired forces craved a long rest after the +storm that had lashed and beaten them. The +girls crept about the room softly and spoke in +low voices, and when they went down to the +early dinner locked the door and took the key +with them. Later, fearing callers, again they +hung out a Busy sign and settled themselves +comfortably for a peaceful afternoon. Nance, +armed with a dictionary and notebook, was translating +“Les Misérables,” a penitential task she +had set for herself for two hours every Sunday.</p> + +<p>Molly was also engaged in a penitential task. +She was endeavoring to compose a story on simple +and natural lines. It was very difficult. Her +mind at this moment seemed to be an avenue for +bands of roving and irrelevant thoughts and refused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +to concentrate on the work at hand. She +made several beginnings, as: “One blustering, +windy day in March a lonely little figure——” +With a contemptuous stroke of her pencil, she +drew a line through the words and wrote underneath: +“It was a calm, beautiful morning in +May——”</p> + +<p>Twirling her pencil, she paused to consider +this statement.</p> + +<p>“No, no, that won’t do,” she thought. “It’s +entirely too commonplace.” She glanced absently +over at the book Nance was reading. +“Victor Hugo would probably have put it this +way: ‘It was the fifteenth of May, 17—. A +young girl was hurrying along the Rue——. +She paused at the house, No. 11.’ Oh, dear,” +pondered Molly, “one has to tell something very +important to write in that way. It’s like sending +a telegram. Just as much as possible expressed +in the fewest possible words. Can the professor +mean that? Would he mind if I asked him and +then at the same time, perhaps——” Again the +wandering thoughts broke off. “It’s rather hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +he should have misunderstood about this morning. +Is there no way I can explain without involving +Judy? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! How +complicated life is, and what a complicated nature +is Judy’s.”</p> + +<p>There were two quick raps on the door. Molly +and Nance exchanged frightened glances. It +was not the masonic tap of their friends, and no +one else would have knocked on a door which advertised +a Busy sign. There was, in fact, a note +of authority in the double rap. Some instinct +prevented Nance from calling out “Come in,” a +matter later for self-congratulation. She rose +and opened the door and President Walker entered. +If Miss Walker had ever paid a visit to +a student before, the girls had not heard of it. +It was, so far as they knew, an entirely unprecedented +happening and quite sufficient to make innocent +people look guilty and set hearts to pumping +blood at double-quick time.</p> + +<p>“I saw your Busy sign,” said Miss Walker, +glancing from one startled face to the other, “but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +I shall not keep you long. What a pretty room,” +she added, looking about her approvingly.</p> + +<p>“Thank heavens, it’s straight,” thought Nance, +groaning mentally.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you sit down, Miss Walker?” asked +Molly, pushing forward one of the easy chairs.</p> + +<p>The President sat down. There was a plate +of “cloudbursts” on the table. Would it be disrespectful +to offer the President some of this delectable +candy? Nance considered it would be, +decidedly so. But Molly, a slave to the laws of +hospitality, took what might be called a leap in +the dark and silently held the plate in front of the +President. If this turned out to be a visit of +state it was rather a risky thing to do. But Miss +Walker helped herself to one piece and then demanded +another.</p> + +<p>“Delicious,” she said. “Did you make it, Miss +Brown?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Walker.”</p> + +<p>It had been purely a stroke of luck with Molly, +who had no way to know that Miss Walker had +a sweet tooth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I must have that recipe. What makes it so +light?”</p> + +<p>“The whites of eggs beaten very stiff, and the +rest of it is just melted brown sugar. It’s very +easy,” added Molly, forming a resolution to make +the President a plate of “cloudbursts” without +loss of time.</p> + +<p>“Who is the third girl who shares this apartment +with you?” asked Miss Walker, unexpectedly +coming back to business.</p> + +<p>“Julia Kean.”</p> + +<p>“And where is she to-day?”</p> + +<p>Nance hesitated.</p> + +<p>“She is sick in bed to-day, Miss Walker.”</p> + +<p>“Ahem! Cold, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“It’s more excitement than anything else,” put +in Molly. “The junior play——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. She was ‘Viola,’ of course,” said the +President.</p> + +<p>“You see she had a bad attack of stage fright,” +continued Molly, “and Judy is so excitable and +sensitive. She exaggerated what happened and +it made her ill.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And what did happen? She forgot her lines, +as I recall. But that often occurs. Even professionals +have been known to forget their parts. +Ellen Terry is quite notorious for her bad memory, +but she is a great actress, nevertheless.”</p> + +<p>The girls were silent. They wondered what +in the world Miss Walker was driving at.</p> + +<p>“And then what happened next?”</p> + +<p>They looked at her blankly.</p> + +<p>“What happened next?” repeated Molly.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I want you to begin and tell me the +whole thing from beginning to end.”</p> + +<p>Molly rested her chin on her hand and looked +out of the window. This is what had been +familiarly spoken of in college as being “on the +grill.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want us to tell, Miss Walker?” +asked Nance with a surprising amount of courage +in her tones.</p> + +<p>“I want to know,” said the President sternly, +“where you were between twelve and one o’clock +on Friday night.”</p> + +<p>“We were on the lake,” announced Nance, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +keen appreciation of the fact that when President +Walker made a direct question she expected a +direct answer and there was no getting around it.</p> + +<p>“Alone?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You mean to tell me that you three girls +went rowing on the lake alone at that hour? +What escapade is this?”</p> + +<p>Her voice was so stern that it made Molly +quake in her boots, but Nance was as heroic as +an early Christian martyr.</p> + +<p>“It was not a mad escapade. We did it because +we had to,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>Nance paused. This was the crucial point. It +looked as if Miss Walker must be told about +Judy’s folly, or themselves be disgraced.</p> + +<p>“They came for me,” announced a hoarse voice +from the door.</p> + +<p>It was such an unexpected interruption that all +three women started nervously, but if Molly and +Nance had been more observant they would have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +noticed the President stifle a smile which twitched +the corners of her mouth.</p> + +<p>Judy, in a long red dressing-gown, her hair in +great disorder and her eyes glittering feverishly, +came trailing into the room. In one hand she +grasped Nance’s slipper and with the other she +made a dramatic gesture, pointing to herself.</p> + +<p>“They came for me,” she repeated. “I had +been angry and said cruel, unjust things to Molly. +Everybody went off and left me after the play. +I was locked out and I was so unhappy, I wanted +to be alone. Water always comforts me. You +see, I was born at sea, and I took a canoe from +the boat house and paddled into the middle of +the lake. Then those two Sweet Spirits of Niter +came for me, and the canoe upset and I—I +dropped my slipper somewhere, 5-B is the number—I +don’t know who found it—here’s its +mate——” Judy waved the slipper over her head +and laughed wildly.</p> + +<p>“The child’s delirious,” exclaimed Miss Walker, +smiling in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>They persuaded Judy to get back into bed and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +the President sent Nance flying for the doctor. +Presently, when Judy had dropped off to sleep +again, Molly finished the story of that exciting +evening.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear,” said the President, slipping +her arm around Molly’s waist and drawing her +down on the arm of the chair, “what prompted +you to go to the lake and nowhere else?”</p> + +<p>“I can never explain really what it was,” replied +Molly. “I dreamed that someone said +‘hurry.’ I wasn’t even thinking of Judy when I +started to dress. You see, we thought she had +gone to bed. I hadn’t thought of the lake, either. +It was just as if I was walking in my sleep, Nance +said. Then we found Judy wasn’t in her room, +and I knew she needed me. I remember we ran +all the way to the lake.”</p> + +<p>“Strange, strange!” said Miss Walker.</p> + +<p>She drew Molly’s face down to her own and +kissed her. There were tears on the President’s +cheek and Molly looked the other way.</p> + +<p>“Sometimes, Molly,” she said after a moment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +“you remind me of my dear sister who died +twenty years ago.”</p> + +<p>It was a good while before Nance returned +with Dr. McLean and in the interval of waiting +Molly and Miss Walker talked of many things. +Molly told her how they had buried the slipper +on Round Head, and of how they had seen the +Professor and been frightened. They talked of +Judy’s temperament and of what kind of mental +training Judy should have to learn to control +her wild spirits. From that the talk drifted to +Molly’s affairs, and then she asked the President +to do her the honor of drinking a cup of tea in +her humble apartment. The two women spent +an intimate and delightful hour together, with +Judy sound asleep in the next room, and no one +to disturb them because of that blessed Busy sign.</p> + +<p>At last Dr. McLean came blustering in, and, +seeing the President and Molly in close converse +over their cups of tea, chuckled delightedly and +observed:</p> + +<p>“They are all alike, the women folk—the talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +lasts as long as the tea lasts, and there’s always +another cup in the pot.”</p> + +<p>“Have a look at your patient, doctor,” said +Miss Walker, “and we’ll save that extra cup in +the pot for you.”</p> + +<p>The doctor was not disturbed over Judy’s delirium.</p> + +<p>“It’s joost quinine and excitement that’s made +her go a bit daffy,” he said. “Keep her quiet for +a day or so. She’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p>Imagine their surprise, ten minutes later, when +Margaret Wakefield and the Williamses, peeping +into the room, found Molly and Nance entertaining +the President of Wellington and Dr. McLean +at tea. The news spread quickly along the corridor +and when the distinguished guests presently +departed almost every girl in the Quadrangle +had made it her business to be lingering near the +stairway or wandering in the hall.</p> + +<p>Only one person heard nothing of it, and that +was Minerva Higgins, who, after Vespers, had +taken a long walk. Nobody told her about it +afterward, because she was not popular with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +Quadrangle girls and had formed her associations +with some freshmen in the village. When +it was given out that evening that Miss Walker +had come to see about Judy, who had been quite +ill, the talk died down.</p> + +<p>Having dropped the heavy load of responsibility +they had been carrying for two days, Molly +and Nance felt foolishly gay. Molly made Miss +Walker a box of cloudbursts before she went to +bed, while Nance read aloud a thrilling and highly +exciting detective story borrowed from Edith +Williams, whose shelves held books for every +mood.</p> + +<p>“By the way, Nance,” observed Molly, when +the story was finished, “how do you suppose Miss +Walker found it all out?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Professor Green, of course,” answered +Nance in a matter of fact voice. “There was +never any doubt in my mind from the first moment +she came into the room.”</p> + +<p>“What?” cried Molly, thunderstruck.</p> + +<p>“There was no other way. He saw us burying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +the slipper and I suppose he thought it his +duty to inform on us.”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t feel it his duty to inform on Judith +Blount when she cut the electric wires that night,” +broke in Molly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he didn’t think that was as wrong +as rowing on the lake with boys from Exmoor. +Besides, she was his relative.”</p> + +<p>Molly took off her slipper and held it up as if +she were going to pitch it with all her force across +the room. Then she dropped it gently on the +floor.</p> + +<p>“I’m disappointed,” she said.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XI.<br /> + +<small>A SWOPPING PARTY AND A MOCK TRIAL.</small></h2> + + +<p>There was never any tedious convalescing for +Judy; no tiresome transition from illness to +health. As soon as she determined in her mind +that she was well, she arose from her bed and +walked, and neither friendly remonstrances nor +doctor’s orders could induce her to return.</p> + +<p>On Monday morning she appeared in the sitting +room wearing a black dress with widow’s +bands of white muslin around the collar and +cuffs. Molly and Nance were a little uneasy at +first, thinking that the delirium still lingered, but +Judy seemed entirely rational.</p> + +<p>“Why, Judy,” exclaimed Molly, “are you a +widow?”</p> + +<p>“I shall wear mourning for awhile,” answered +Judy solemnly, ignoring Molly’s facetious question. +“It is my only way of showing that I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +a penitent. I can’t wear sackcloth and ashes +as they do in Oriental countries or flagellate my +shoulders with a spiked whip like a mediæval +monk; nor can I go on a pilgrimage to a sacred +shrine. So I have decided to give up colors for +awhile and wear black.”</p> + +<p>Molly kissed her and said no more. She knew +that Judy went into everything she did heart +and soul even unto the outward and visible symbol +of clothes, and if wearing black was her +way of showing public repentance she felt only +a great respect for her friend’s sincerity of +motive.</p> + +<p>“But what are we to tell people when they ask +if you have gone into mourning, Judy, because +they certainly will?” demanded Nance, taking a +more practical and less romantic view of the situation.</p> + +<p>“Tell them I’m doing penance,” answered Judy, +and thus it got out around college that Judy was +making public amends for her angry words to +Molly, and there was a good deal of secret amusement, +of which Judy was as serenely unconscious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +as a pious pilgrim journeying barefoot to a holy +tomb.</p> + +<p>In the midst of these happenings there came +a note one day from Mrs. McLean inviting the +three young girls to the annual junior week-end +house party at Exmoor. Their hosts were to be +Andy McLean, George Green and Lawrence +Upton and they were to stay at the Chapter +House from Friday night until Sunday noon. +It meant a round of gayeties from beginning to +end, but to Molly it meant something almost out +of reach.</p> + +<p>“Clothes!” she exclaimed tragically, “I must +have clothes. I can’t go to Exmoor looking like +little orphan Annie.”</p> + +<p>It was in vain that Judy and Nance offered +to share their things with her. Molly obstinately +refused to listen to them.</p> + +<p>“I won’t need any colored clothes, anyhow,” +said Judy.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will, Judy. You just must come out +of those widow’s weeds for the house party,” +Molly urged.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No,” said Judy, “I’ve made a vow and until +that vow is fulfilled I shall never wear colors. +I’ve sent two dresses down to the Wellington +Dye Works to be dyed black. Fortunately my +suit is black already and so is my hat. Now, I +have a proposition to make, Molly. I’m in need +of funds more than clothes just now and I’ll sell +you my yellow gauze for the contents of Martin +Luther. He must be pretty full by now.”</p> + +<p>“He’s plumb full,” answered Molly proudly. +“I hadn’t realized how much I had put in until +I tried to drop a quarter in this morning, and +lo, and behold, he couldn’t accommodate another +cent.”</p> + +<p>She held up the china pig and shook him.</p> + +<p>“How much should you think he’d hold altogether?” +asked Judy. “I don’t want to be getting +the best of the bargain and perhaps Martin +Luther is worth more than the dress.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” protested Molly. “He could never +be worth that much. I think he has about fifteen +dollars in his tum-tum. I’ve put in all the money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +I earned from cloudbursts and about ten dollars, +changed up small, for tutoring.”</p> + +<p>Judy insisted on adding a blue silk blouse and +a pair of yellow silk stockings to the collection +to be sold.</p> + +<p>“I’ll sell them to someone else if you won’t buy +them,” she announced, “and if you need a dress, +you might as well take this one off my hands.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” Molly finally agreed, “we’ll break +open Martin, and count the money and, if there’s +anything like a decent sum, I’ll buy the dress. +Let’s make a party of it,” she added brightly. +“I’ll cut the hickory-nut cake that came from +home last night, and Nance can make fudge.”</p> + +<p>It was like Molly’s passion for entertaining to +turn the breaking open of the china bank into a +festival. Nance had once remarked it was one +thing to have a convivial soul and quite another +to have the ready provisions, and Molly never invited +her friends to a bare board.</p> + +<p>“Try on the dress and let’s see how you look +in it, Molly dear,” ordered Judy. “We’ll open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +the bank to-night with due ceremony, but I want +to see you in the yellow dress now.”</p> + +<p>The two girls were about the same height and +build. Molly was not so well developed across +the chest as her friend and was more slender +through the hips. But the dress fitted her to +perfection.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’re a dream,” cried Nance, when +Molly presently appeared in the yellow dress.</p> + +<p>“Molly, you are adorable,” exclaimed Judy. +“You always look better in my clothes than I do.”</p> + +<p>“They always fit me better than my own,” +said Molly, looking at herself in the mirror over +the mantel. “I feel like a princess,” she ejaculated, +blushing at her own charming image. “Oh, +Judy, I have no right to deprive you of this lovely +gown. Your mother, I’m sure, would be very +angry.”</p> + +<p>“Mamma is never angry,” said Judy. “That +is why I am so impossible. Besides, I told you +I needed the money. I have spent all my allowance +and I won’t get another cent for two weeks.”</p> + +<p>Molly took off the dress and laid it carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +in the box, stuffing tissue paper under the folds +to prevent premature wrinkles. Her eyes dwelt +lingeringly on the pale yellow masses of chiffon +and lace.</p> + +<p>It would certainly be the solution of her +troubles, and oh, the feeling of comfort one has +in a really beautiful dress! She put the top on +the box and pushed it away from her.</p> + +<p>“I’ll decide in the morning, Judy. I can’t make +up my mind quite yet. It seems like highway +robbery to take the most beautiful dress you +have and the most expensive, too, I am certain.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I never liked the color,” cried Judy. +“I’m determined to wear black. When I have on +black I feel superior to all persons wearing colors. +It gives me dignity. There is a richness about +robes of sable hue. Some day I’m going to have +a black velvet evening dress made quite plain +with an immense train stretching all the way +across the room. My only ornaments will be a +great diamond star in my hair and a necklace +of the same, and I shall carry a large fan made +of black ostrich feathers.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girls laughed at this picture of magnificence +and as Molly hurried away to invite the +guests to the spread she heard Nance remark:</p> + +<p>“You’ll look like the bride of the undertaker +in that costume, Judy.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. I shall look like the Queen of +Night, Anna Oldham.”</p> + +<p>Judy went to the door and looked out. Molly +was safely around the corner of the Quadrangle.</p> + +<p>“Nance,” she continued, “don’t you think Molly +would let me give her the dress?”</p> + +<p>Nance shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid not. You know how proud she +is. It’s going to be hard to persuade her to buy +it at that price. You know it’s worth lots more.”</p> + +<p>Judy sighed.</p> + +<p>“If I could only do something,” she said. “If +I only had a chance.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the chance will slip up on you, Judy, +when you least expect it. That’s the way chances +always do,” said Nance.</p> + +<p>It occurred to Judy, thinking over the matter +of the yellow dress later, that it might be fun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +to have a “Barter and Exchange Party,” and if +all the girls were swopping things Molly could +be more easily persuaded to take the yellow dress. +All guests therefore were notified to bring anything +they wanted to swop or sell to the rooms +of the three friends that night.</p> + +<p>It turned out to be a very exciting affair. The +divans were piled with exchangeable property. +Jessie Lynch brought more things than anybody +else, ribbon bows, silk scarfs, several dresses and +a velvet toque. Millicent Porter, who now spent +more time in the Quadrangle than at Beta Phi +House, to the surprise of the girls, brought a +rather dingy collection of things which no one +would either swop or buy. But she enjoyed herself +immensely. Edith Williams made two trips +to carry all the books she wished to exchange for +other books, clothes, hats or money. But Otoyo +Sen had the most interesting collection and was +the gayest person that night. She was willing +to exchange anything she had just for the fun +of it.</p> + +<p>It was so exciting that they forgot all about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +Martin Luther until the time arrived for refreshments +and they gathered about the hickory-nut +cake, now a famous delicacy at Wellington.</p> + +<p>“What surprises me is how pleased everybody +is to get rid of something someone else is equally +pleased to get,” observed Margaret. “Now, for +instance, I have a black hat I have always +hated because it wobbles on my head. I feel as +if I had received a gift to have exchanged it for +this green one of Judy’s. And Judy’s so contented +she’s wearing my black one still.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I am the fortunate one,” said Otoyo. +“I have acquired an excellent library for three +ordinary cotton kimonos.”</p> + +<p>“But such lovely kimonos,” exclaimed Edith. +“Katherine and I are in luck. Look at this pale +blue dressing gown, please, for a French dictionary.”</p> + +<p>“I have the loveliest of all,” broke in Molly, +“amber beads.”</p> + +<p>“But they did not appear becomingly on me,” +protested Otoyo, not wishing to seem worsted +in her bargains. “And what do I receive in exchange?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +A pair of beautiful knitted slippers for +winter time, so warm, so comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“They were too little for me,” announced +Molly. “It was no deprivation to exchange them +for a beautiful necklace. Really, Judy, this was +a most original scheme of yours.”</p> + +<p>“But what about Martin Luther?” asked someone. +“I thought this spread was really for the +purpose of counting up the pennies he had been +accumulating.”</p> + +<p>Molly took the china pig from the shelf and +placed him on the table.</p> + +<p>“How shall I break him?” she asked. “Shall +I crush him with one blow of the hammer, or +shall I knock off his head on the steam heater?”</p> + +<p>“Poor Martin!” ejaculated Edith. “He’s not +a wild boar to be hunted down and exterminated. +He’s a kindly domestic animal who has performed +the task set for him by a wise providence. I think +he should choose his own death.”</p> + +<p>“Every condemned man has a right to a lawyer,” +said Margaret. “I offer my services to +Martin Luther and will consult him in private.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We’ll give him a trial by jury,” broke in +Katherine.</p> + +<p>“But what’s he accused of?” demanded Molly.</p> + +<p>“He’s accused of withholding funds held in +trust for you,” put in Margaret promptly.</p> + +<p>There was a great deal of fun at the expense +of Martin Luther and his mock trial. Katherine +presided as Judge. There were two witnesses for +the defense and two on the other side, and Margaret’s +speech for the accused would have done +credit to a real lawyer. The jury, consisting of +three girls, Otoyo, Mabel Hinton and Rosomond +Chase—Millicent Porter had excused herself with +the plea of a headache and departed—sat on the +case five minutes and decided that the pig should +be made to surrender Molly’s fund in the quickest +possible time and by the quickest possible means.</p> + +<p>It was almost time to separate for the night +when Molly at last placed Martin Luther on a +tray in the center of the table and with a sharp +rap of the hammer broke him into little bits.</p> + +<p>If interest had not been so concentrated on the +amount of money hidden in the pig, perhaps it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +might have occurred to the company that Molly +and her two friends had been playing a joke on +them when they looked at the heap of ruins on +the tray. But if this suspicion did enter the mind +of anyone, it was dissolved at once at sight of +Molly’s white face and quivering lips.</p> + +<p>“My money!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>What happened was this. When the china +pig was demolished, there rolled from his ruins +no silver money but a varied collection of buttons +and bogus stage money made of tin. Only about +a dollar in real silver was to be found.</p> + +<p>“What a blow is this!” at last exclaimed Molly, +breaking the silence.</p> + +<p>“But what does it mean?” demanded Rosomond.</p> + +<p>“It means,” said Nance, “that someone has +taken all Molly’s savings out of the china pig and +substituted—this.”</p> + +<p>She pointed to the pile of stage money.</p> + +<p>“But they couldn’t have done it,” cried Judy. +“How could they have fished it up through such +a small slot?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What a low, miserable trick!” cried Katherine.</p> + +<p>It was a despicable action. Who among all +the bright, intelligent students at Wellington +could have been capable of such a dastardly +thing? They agreed that it must have been a +student. None of the college attendants could +have planned it out so carefully.</p> + +<p>“Who else has missed things?” asked Margaret +with a sudden thought.</p> + +<p>“I have,” replied Jessie, “but I never mentioned +it because I’m so careless and it did seem +to be my own fault. I lost five dollars last week +out of my purse. I left it on the window sill in +the gym. and forgot about it. When I came back +later the purse was there, but the money was +gone.”</p> + +<p>“How horrid!” cried Molly, her soul revolting +in disgust at anything dishonest.</p> + +<p>“To tell you the truth I have not been able +to find my gold beads for nearly two weeks,” put +in Judy. “I haven’t seen them since—” she +paused and flushed, “since the night of our play.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +I remember leaving them on my dressing table +that morning.”</p> + +<p>Molly and Nance exchanged glances, recalling +the mysterious visitor to their room that night.</p> + +<p>Several of the other girls had missed small +sums of money and jewelry which they had not +thought of mentioning at the time.</p> + +<p>“But how on earth was this managed?” demanded +Jessie, pointing dramatically to the +broken china pig.</p> + +<p>“I suspect,” replied Molly, “that this is not +the real Martin Luther. When I bought him +there were several others just like him on the +shelf at the store. Whoever did this must have +bought another Martin and the stage money at +the same time. They have a lot of it at the store, +silver and greenbacks, too. I saw it myself when +I bought Martin. They keep it for class plays, +I suppose.”</p> + +<p>There was a long discussion about what ought +to be done. The housekeeper must be told, of +course, next morning and a list of all missing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +articles made out, headed by Molly’s loss of almost +fifteen dollars.</p> + +<p>It was rather a tragic ending to the jolly hickory-nut +cake party. Molly tried to laugh away +her disappointment about her savings, but she +could not disguise to herself what it actually +meant.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I can’t buy your dress, Judy,” she +announced, when the company had disbanded. +“I’ll mend up one of last year’s dresses. It will +be all right. It’s a lesson to me not to place so +much importance on clothes.”</p> + +<p>Judy said nothing, but she made a mental resolution +that Molly should have that dress.</p> + +<p>The next morning the housekeeper was properly +notified of what had happened and it was +not long before the rumor spread that somewhere +about college there dwelt a thief. So remote did +such a person seem from the Wellington girls +that the thief came to be regarded as a kind of +evil spirit lurking in the shadows and gliding +through the halls.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /> + +<small>ALARMS AND DISCOVERIES.</small></h2> + + +<p>Several things of importance to this history +happened during the week before the house party +at Exmoor.</p> + +<p>One morning, just before chapel, Molly was +visited by several members of the Shakespearean +Society, who presented her with a scroll of membership +and fastened a pin on her blouse. They +then solemnly shook hands and marched out in +good order. By this token Molly became a full +fledged member of that exclusive body. Margaret +Wakefield, Jessie Lynch and Edith Williams +were also taken into the society. Most of +the other girls in the circle were elected to the +various societies that day. Judy and Katherine +became “Olla Podridas,” which, as all Wellington +knows, is Spanish for mixed soup. Nance +was elected into the “Octogons,” and all the girls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +belonged to one or the other of the two big Greek +letter societies.</p> + +<p>If Judy had any feelings regarding the Shakespeareans, +she was careful to keep them well hidden +under her gay and laughing exterior.</p> + +<p>The Shakespeareans at Beta Phi House gave +a supper for the new members, and later Millicent +Porter, in a stunning, theatrical looking costume +of old blue velvet, received them in her +rooms. Margaret and Edith wore their best +to this affair. The Shakespeareans were a dressy +lot.</p> + +<p>“I wonder why, in the name of goodness, they +ever asked me to belong,” exclaimed Molly to +herself, as she got into her white muslin, which +was really the best she could do. “I wish I could +surprise somebody with something,” her thoughts +continued. “College friends are just like members +of the same family. I can’t even surprise +the girls with a shirtwaist. They are intimately +acquainted with every rag I possess.”</p> + +<p>Molly enjoyed the Beta Phi party, however, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +spite of her dress, which Millicent Porter had +dignified by calling it a “lingerie.”</p> + +<p>“How much nicer you look than the other girls +in more elaborate things,” she said admiringly.</p> + +<p>Molly felt gratified.</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel nicer,” she said. “I have a weakness +for fine clothes. I love to hear the rustle +of silk against silk. Your blue velvet dress is +like a beautiful picture to me. I could look and +look at it. There’s a kind of depth to it like mist +on blue water.”</p> + +<p>Millicent bridled with pleased vanity.</p> + +<p>“It is rather nice,” she admitted modestly. +“It’s a French dress made by the same dressmaker +who designs clothes for a big actress. +Don’t you want to see some of my work? I have +put it on exhibition to-night. I thought it would +interest the new members. The girls here are +quite familiar with it, of course.”</p> + +<p>Molly was delighted to see the craftsmanship +of this unusual young woman, who appeared to +be a peculiar mixture of pretentiousness and +genius.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>When, presently, she led Molly into the little +den where her silver work was spread out on +view it was almost as if she had turned into a +little old man and was taking a customer into the +back of his shop.</p> + +<p>Some of the other girls had followed and they +now stood in an admiring circle around the table +whereon were displayed rings and necklaces, +buckles and several silver platters.</p> + +<p>“You are a wonder,” cried Molly, deeply impressed.</p> + +<p>Millicent accepted this compliment with a complacent +smile.</p> + +<p>“Papa and mamma think I am,” she remarked, +“but I have artistic knowledge enough to know +that this is only a beginning. When I am able +to make a bas-relief of Greek dancing figures +on a silver box, I shall call myself really great. +At present I am only near-great.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do with these things?” +asked Margaret.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing. They just accumulate and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +pack them away. I don’t have to sell any of +them, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to exhibit some of them at +the George Washington Bazaar?” asked Margaret. +“The Bazaar will sell them for you at +ten per cent commission. The money goes to +the student fund. You can have a booth if you +like and dress up as Benvenuto Cellini or some +famous worker in silver. I am chairman and +can make any appointments I choose.”</p> + +<p>Molly could hardly keep from smiling over the +expression on Millicent’s face. The worker in +silver and the dealer in antiques were struggling +for supremacy in the soul of their descendant.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” she cried in great excitement, “I will +fix it up like a Florentine shop, full of beautiful +old stuffs and curios. It will be the most beautiful +booth in the Bazaar. And I will choose +Miss Brown to assist me. You shall be dressed +as a Florentine lady of the Renaissance. I have +the very costume.”</p> + +<p>Now Margaret, as Chairman of the Bazaar, +preferred all appointments to be made officially,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +but seeing that Millicent was very much in earnest +and that such a booth would greatly add to +the picturesqueness of the affair, she made no +objections.</p> + +<p>“There is one thing I would advise you to do, +Miss Porter,” she said when the plan was settled, +“and that is to keep your silver things under +lock and key because there is a thief about in +Wellington. You might as well know it, because, +sooner or later, you’ll lose something. We all of +us have. My monogram ring went this morning. +I left it on the marble slab in the wash +room and when I came back for it not three minutes +later it was gone.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Molly, “I do hate things +like that to happen. Why will people do such +things?”</p> + +<p>Millicent shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps they can’t help themselves,” she answered. +“I’ve lost a few little things myself,” +she added. “But come into my room, Miss +Brown, and let’s talk about your costume. I +have a gold net cap that will be charming.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the next half hour Molly was lost in the +delights of Millicent’s collection of beautiful theatrical +costumes, pieces of old brocades and velvets. +She drew them carelessly from a carved +oak chest and tossed them on the bed in a shimmering +mass of rich colors. Molly lingered so +late over these “rich stuffs” that she was obliged +to run all the way back to the Quadrangle and +fell breathless and exhausted on a stone bench +just inside the court as the watchman closed the +gates.</p> + +<p>Nance and Judy were late, too. Nance had +been to a secret conclave of the Octogons and +Judy had been having a jolly, convivial time with +the Olla Podridas. The three girls met in their +sitting room as the last stroke of ten vibrated +through the building. They were undressing in +the dark stealthily, in order to avoid the eager +eye of the housekeeper, who was not popular, +when they heard a great racket in the corridor.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” +called several voices through half open doors.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>The housekeeper making her rounds for the +night passed them on the run.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been robbed! I’ve been robbed!” wailed +the voice of Minerva Higgins. “I won’t stand +having my things stolen from me. Who has +dared enter my room?”</p> + +<p>“What have you been robbed of?” asked the +matron sharply. She was a lazy woman and detested +disturbances.</p> + +<p>“Two of my best gold medals I won at Mill +Town High School. They were pure gold and +very valuable.”</p> + +<p>“Good riddance,” laughed Judy. “If anything +in school could be spared, it is her gold medals.”</p> + +<p>“You’re only in the same box with all the rest +of us, Miss Higgins,” called a student who +roomed across the hall. “Everybody in the +Quadrangle has lost something.”</p> + +<p>“They haven’t lost gold medals,” cried Minerva. +“They haven’t had them to lose. I could +have spared anything else. I valued them more +than everything I possess. They will be heirlooms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +some day for my children to show with +pride.”</p> + +<p>There were stifled laughs from several of the +rooms, and someone called out:</p> + +<p>“Suppose you don’t have any?”</p> + +<p>“Then she’ll leave ’em to her grandchildren,” +called another voice.</p> + +<p>“Poor, silly, little thing,” exclaimed Molly, as +the matron, intensely annoyed, went heavily past.</p> + +<p>“Old Fatty’s gone now. Let’s light a lamp,” +suggested Judy, who either felt intense respect +or none at all for all persons. There was no +moderation in her feelings one way or the other.</p> + +<p>“It’s a queer thing about this thief-business,” +sighed Molly. “It makes me uncomfortable. I +can’t think of anyone I could even remotely suspect +of such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“She must be a real klep.,” observed Judy, “or +she never would want the fair Minerva’s gold +medals. They’re of no use to anybody but +Minerva.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose Miss Walker will get another +detective like Miss Steel?” asked Nance. “She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +was a fine one. The way she tipped around on +noiseless felt slippers and listened outside people’s +doors was enough to scare any thief.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” said Judy. “She was the real thing. +And she wanted everything quiet. If Minerva +Higgins had set up a yowl like that at Queen’s +she would have been properly sat upon by Miss +Steel.”</p> + +<p>If Molly’s mind had been especially acute that +evening she would have noticed that her two +friends were keeping up a sort of continuous duet +as they lingered over their undressing. As it +was, she barely heard their chatter because she +was thinking of something far removed from +thieves and detectives.</p> + +<p>“We’ll be called down about the light if you +don’t hurry, girls,” she cautioned. “Why are you +so slow?”</p> + +<p>“By the way, did you know there was a package +over here on the table addressed to you, +Molly?” said Nance.</p> + +<p>“Why, no; what can it be?”</p> + +<p>Filled with curiosity, Molly made haste to cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +the string around a square pasteboard box. +Whatever was inside had been wrapped in quantities +of white tissue paper.</p> + +<p>“It feels like china,” cried Molly, tearing off +the wrappings. “Why it’s——”</p> + +<p>“It’s after ten, young ladies,” said a stern voice +outside the door.</p> + +<p>Judy turned out the light.</p> + +<p>“It’s Martin Luther, girls,” whispered Molly.</p> + +<p>Judy crept to her room and returned presently +with a little electric dark lantern her father had +given her. This she flashed on the china pig.</p> + +<p>“One sinner hath repented,” she whispered. +“It is Martin.”</p> + +<p>Nance reached for the hammer.</p> + +<p>“Break him open,” she ordered. “Let’s, see +if the money’s safe. He might be filled with stage +money, too.”</p> + +<p>Molly struck Martin Luther with the hammer, +muffling the sound with a corner of the rug. The +flashlight revealed quantities of silver.</p> + +<p>“Oh, girls!” she exclaimed, “I’ve got it all back.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +I’m glad the thief repented and I’m glad, oh, so +glad, to get the money.”</p> + +<p>“And now the sale is on again,” said Judy, +jumping about the room in a wild, noiseless dance.</p> + +<p>“I can’t resist it,” ejaculated Molly. “I’ll buy +the dress if you really want to sell it, Judy.”</p> + +<p>They looked carefully at the address on the +box. It was printed with a soft pencil and merely +said: “Miss M. Brown.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose the girl felt sorry,” Molly remarked. +“But it’s a pity she started up so soon +again after her repentance and took Minerva’s +medals.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> + +<small>“THE MOVING FINGER WRITES.”</small></h2> + + +<p>The girls had agreed to pack all their clothes +in one trunk and carry a suitcase apiece to the +Junior Week-End Party at Exmoor. Nance was +official packer and stood knee-deep in finery while +she considered whether it was better to begin +with party capes or slippers. Molly was studying +and Judy was stretched on the divan idly swinging +one foot.</p> + +<p>Otoyo poked her head in the door.</p> + +<p>“May I ask advice of kind friends?”</p> + +<p>Molly looked up and smiled. She had once +heard a preacher say that humility was as necessary +to a well-rounded character as a sense of +humor and she could see now what he meant. +Otoyo was an excellent illustration. She was +filled with humble gratitude for little kindnesses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +never boasted and never forgot her perfect +manners.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, you may, little one,” spoke up Judy. +“Come right in and state your grievances.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I have no grievances. I have only happinesses,” +said Otoyo. “But I am packing and +I wish to ask advices regarding clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Clothes for what?”</p> + +<p>“For Exmoor,” replied Otoyo, blushing and +casting down her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Why, you dear little Jap, you didn’t tell us,” +exclaimed Molly.</p> + +<p>“I have obtained the knowledge of it myself +only this morning. Mrs. McLean has so kindly +offered to look after little Japanese girl.”</p> + +<p>“And who is your escort?” they demanded in +one chorus.</p> + +<p>“Professor Green,” said Otoyo, trying not to +show how intensely proud she felt of the honor. +“He is what you call ‘a-lum-nus,’” she said, +“and he invites me to go with him, and Mr. Andrew +McLean, junior, is making out a card of +dances for me. Is it not wonderful? And is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +it not of great good fortune that I have now +learned to dance?” She began circling about the +room. “Only I can do it much better alone. Poor +little Japanese girl will be frightened to dance +with American gentleman.”</p> + +<p>The girls laughed again.</p> + +<p>“You are an adorable little person,” exclaimed +Molly, kissing her, “and young American gentleman +will be only too glad to dance with little +Japanese girl.”</p> + +<p>Otoyo was now well provided with clothes, +and there being still plenty of room in the trunk, +they allowed her to pack two evening dresses and +a diminutive black satin party wrap with their +things.</p> + +<p>Molly was half sorry that Professor Green +was going. Except at classes, she had never seen +him since that Sunday morning on Round Head. +Once he had smiled at her like an old friend +when they had met in the main hall, but she was +careful not to return the smile and bowed coldly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am disappointed,” she had thought. +“I am glad Prexy found out about us that night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +but he needn’t have been the one to tell. I hope +I shall be too much engaged in having a good +time at Exmoor to see him. I am glad Lawrence +Upton is going to look after me, because he always +does so much for one. It was nice of Professor +Green to take Otoyo. He is kind, of +course.”</p> + +<p>However, that afternoon when the trolley +started with its load of Wellington guests for +Exmoor—there were several other parties—Molly +found herself seated between Mrs. McLean +and Professor Green. How it had happened she +could not tell. She had intended to sit anywhere +but next the Professor, whom she regarded as +a false friend. But there she was and the Professor +was saying:</p> + +<p>“Miss Brown, you and I have been almost +strangers of late. Are you working so hard that +you have no time for old friends this winter?”</p> + +<p>Molly paused for an instant to consider what +she should reply to this question. Then she said +a thing so bitter and foreign to her nature that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +the Professor gave a start of surprise and Molly +felt that someone else must have said it.</p> + +<p>“I have plenty of time for really <em>loyal</em> friends, +Professor Green,” she said in a frigid tone of +voice. She turned her back and began to talk +to Mrs. McLean, and for the rest of the trip the +Professor devoted himself to Otoyo.</p> + +<p>Molly was in high spirits when she reached +Exmoor. She was determined not to let her cruel +speech ruin her good time. But through all the +gayeties of that afternoon and evening, at the +teas, the dinner and the Glee Club concert, the +tang of its bitterness reached her. Across the +aisle at the concert she could see Professor Green +sitting by Otoyo, smiling gravely while the little +Japanese girl entertained him, but never once +did he look in Molly’s direction. A lump rose +in her throat and she dropped her gaze to the +program.</p> + +<p>“It is never right to make mean speeches,” +she decided, “no matter how much provocation +one has.”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you having a good time?” asked Lawrence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +Upton at her side. “You look a little tired.”</p> + +<p>“I’m having a lovely time,” answered Molly, +“and I thought I was looking my best.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you couldn’t look any better. I think you +are—well, the prettiest girl in the room. I meant +there was a kind of sad look in your eyes.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t try to cover it up with compliments,” +answered Molly. “When a thing’s said, you +can’t change it, you know. It’s like this:</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>“Please don’t be so severe, Miss Molly,” said +Lawrence humbly.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of what you said, particularly,” +said Molly. “I was thinking of any speech +one might make and regret and never be able to +recall.”</p> + +<p>“You <em>are</em> sad,” said Lawrence. “I was certain +of it. Will it make you any gladder to hear about +to-morrow? You are engaged for every hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +in the day. I had a great to-do keeping a little +time for myself. Three fellows wanted to take +you driving in the morning, but I reserved that +privilege for yours truly. Dodo and I are going +to drive you and Miss Judy over to Hillesdell +after breakfast. Then there’s the Junior Lunch. +That’s quite a big affair, you know. It’s like a +reception. Prexy always comes to that and any +of the alumni who happen to be down. A crowd +of them come usually. Andy’s giving a tea in +the Chapter rooms and there are some other teas, +and then come the dinner and the ball.”</p> + +<p>“If there’s anything left of us by then,” said +Molly, laughing.</p> + +<p>It was an intermission and everybody was visiting +as they did at the Wellington Glee Club concerts. +Molly, the center of a jolly crowd of young +people, joined in the merriment and talk and all +the time there was a taste of bitterness on her +lips and in her ear a voice kept dinning over +and over:</p> + +<p>“I have plenty of time for really loyal friends, +Professor Green.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>That night, when they had gone to bed in their +rooms in the Chapter House, they were serenaded +by a roving band of juniors. When at last the +serenaders moved away and the house was still, +Molly could not go to sleep.</p> + +<p>Dozens of times she repeated her cruel speech. +She analyzed and parsed it, as she used to parse +sentences years before in her first lessons in +grammar. She named the subject, the predicate, +the object, and modifying words. She tried to +define the meaning of the word loyal. What +were its synonyms? Faithful was one, of course. +When she closed her eyes, she could see her +speech written in red across a black background +like a flaming sign. Was the Professor hurt or +angry or both? She recalled every kindness he +had ever done for her and there were many. She +remembered with a burning blush what pains he +and his sister had taken to make her have a happy +Christmas a year ago. He had informed President +Walker on her, of course, but he was only +doing his duty. And she had made that cruel +speech!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have plenty of time for really loyal friends, +Professor Green.”</p> + +<p>Her mind traveled in a circle. She tossed and +turned, trying one side until it ached and then +trying the other; resting on her back for a moment +and finding the position intolerable.</p> + +<p>At last she fell asleep and woke up stiff and +weary in the morning, devoutly wishing the day +were well over.</p> + +<p>She had hoped to see Professor Green in the +morning, if only for a moment, but he had returned +to Wellington, leaving the entertainment +of Otoyo in charge of some of his brother’s +friends.</p> + +<p>Of what earthly pleasure is a beautiful corn-colored +evening gown when one’s heart is like +a lump of lead and one’s conscience heavy within?</p> + +<p>All her numerous partners at the ball could +not console Molly, nor could the knowledge that +she was looking her best as she floated through +the dances in her diaphanous dress.</p> + +<p>“I know now how Judy felt after she was so +unkind to me at the junior play,” she thought,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +“and, if heaven is kind to me, I hope never to +say anything to hurt anyone again.”</p> + +<p>In the meantime there were those who were +enjoying themselves to the utmost limit of enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Otoyo Sen, in a seventh heaven, was dancing +with young Andy, who towered above her like +a lighthouse over a cottage.</p> + +<p>Judy in her black dress was sparkling with +vivacity. Her fluffy light brown hair gleamed +yellow and her skin was cream white, against +the dark folds of her chiffon frock. Could this +be the same Judy who, only a few weeks ago, was +contemplating—heaven knows what?</p> + +<p>Nance, with one eye on Andy, was also happy +and light-hearted. How trim and charming she +looked in her white silk dress!</p> + +<p>Molly found herself laughing and talking a +great deal, and all the time she was thinking:</p> + +<p>“We’ll be back to-morrow at noon. On Monday +the holidays begin. Oh, if I can only see +him before he goes!”</p> + +<p>A great many young men came down to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +station to see them off next morning. There was +a din of farewells. On all sides girlish voices +were calling:</p> + +<p>“Good-bye!”</p> + +<p>“It was the jolliest dance!”</p> + +<p>“I never had a better time in all my life!”</p> + +<p>“Awfully nice of you to ask us.”</p> + +<p>Molly had joined in the chorus with the others +and had grasped many outstretched hands and +smiled and waved her handkerchief and listened +to Otoyo in one ear, crying:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mees Brown, I do like the American +young gentleman veree much,” while Judy in +the other was saying:</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t it glorious fun? I never saw you +look better. I have a dozen compliments for +you.”</p> + +<p>The car fairly crept back to Wellington, so +it seemed to poor Molly. At last they arrived +and a carry-all took them back to the Quadrangle.</p> + +<p>Without waiting to explain, she left her suitcase +in the hall and ran to the cloisters. Pausing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +at the door marked “E. A. Green,” she knocked +urgently.</p> + +<p>There was no answer. A door farther down +the corridor was opened and the professor of +French looked out.</p> + +<p>“Professor Green has gone away,” he said. +“He will not return until after the holidays.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> + +<small>AN INVITATION AND AN APOLOGY.</small></h2> + + +<p>Millicent Porter invited Molly to go to New +York with her for the holidays and visit in the +grand Porter mansion. Molly understood it was +a palace filled with tapestries and fine pictures. +Millicent had mentioned all those things casually. +They would go to the theaters and the opera and +ride about in motor cars. But Molly was glad +she had kept her head and declined.</p> + +<p>“I have some work to do, Millicent,” she said. +“I appreciate your invitation, but I can’t accept +it.”</p> + +<p>“You must,” exclaimed Millicent, too accustomed +to having her own way to take no for an +answer. “Is it clothes?” she added. Somehow, +she gave the impression of not being used to +wealth.</p> + +<p>Molly hardly felt intimate enough with her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +to go into the subject of her own poverty and answered +briefly:</p> + +<p>“Not entirely.”</p> + +<p>Millicent was not famous for generosity and +the basket of red roses sent to Molly on the night +of the junior play had been her one outburst; +but she was determined to have Molly go home +with her at any cost.</p> + +<p>“Because,” she continued, “if it’s a question +of clothes, I can arrange that perfectly. My +dresses will fit you if they are lengthened and—well, +there’ll be plenty of clothes. Don’t bother +about that. Your yellow dress is good enough +for anything——”</p> + +<p>“I should say it was,” thought Molly, rather +indignantly. “Good enough for the likes of you +or anybody else.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll lend you my mink coat and turban,” went +on this munificent young person, “and I have a +big black velvet hat that would look awfully well +on you. Now, you must come, please. I want +you to see my studio at the top of the house. To +tell you the truth, I’m rather lonesome in New<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +York. I don’t know any girls well, because I’ve +never stayed at one school long enough to make +friends.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the reason of that?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I always get tired or something,” answered +the other carelessly. “But say you’ll +come, do, please,” she went on pathetically. Then, +unable to stifle her grand airs, she said: “I +doubt if you have such fine houses as ours in +the south.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” answered Molly, quickly, “I doubt +if we have. Our homes are very old and simple. +The only works of art are family portraits. We +have no tapestry or statuary. The house I was +born in,” she went on half-smiling to herself, +“was built by my great-grandfather. Most of +the furniture came down from him, too. Some +of it’s quite decrepit now, but we keep it polished +up. My earliest recollection is rubbing the +mahogany. You would doubtless think our +house very empty and plain. We have some old +crimson damask curtains in the parlor, but the +rest of the curtains are made of ten-cent dimity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +There is no furnace. We depend on coal fires +in the bedrooms and wood fires in the other rooms +and we nearly freeze if there’s a cold winter. +We have no plumbing. Every member of the +family has his own tub and there are six extra +ones for company. A little colored boy named +Sam brings us hot water every morning for our +baths. He gets it from a big boiler attached to +the kitchen stove, and when we are done bathing +he has to carry it all down again. Rather a nuisance, +isn’t it? But Sam doesn’t mind. Oh, I +daresay you’d think our house was a kind of a +hovel.” Molly paused and looked at Millicent +strangely. There was a hidden fire in her deep +blue eyes. “As for me,” she said, “no palace +in all New York or anywhere else could be as +beautiful to me as my home.”</p> + +<p>Millicent looked uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>“Be it ever so homely, there’s no face like one’s +own,” cried Judy, who at that moment had come +into the room and caught Molly’s last words. +“What’s all this talk about home?”</p> + +<p>“I was just telling Millicent about the old-fashioned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +whitewashed brick palace wherein I was +born,” answered Molly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry you won’t accept my invitation,” +said Millicent, taking no notice of Judy whatever. +“Perhaps, after you think about it awhile +you’ll change your mind.” Her manner was +heavy and patronizing, and implied without +words:</p> + +<p>“After you have had time to consider the honor +I am paying you and the advantages of visiting +in my splendid home, you cannot fail to accept.”</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, Millicent, but I shall not +reconsider it,” announced Molly coldly. “I have +made up my mind to spend Christmas right here +in the Quadrangle. I hope you’ll have a beautiful +time. Good-bye.” They shook hands formally.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try to see the best in her,” she thought, +“but I’d rather not see it at close hand. She +grates on me.”</p> + +<p>Judy waved an open letter with a dramatic +gesture.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Molly, dearest, I’m glad you didn’t accept.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +It’s my own selfish pleasure that makes +me glad, but I’m going to spend Christmas right +here in the Quadrangle, too.”</p> + +<p>Molly looked at her friend’s eager, excited face +in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean your mother and father are +coming here?”</p> + +<p>“No, no. They’re on the Pacific Coast, you +know, and will be detained until spring. It’s +too far for me to take the trip just for the few +days I could spend with them, so I’m going to +stay here.”</p> + +<p>A year ago Judy would have been in the depths +of despair over a separation from her beloved +parents at this holiday time. But whether she +had gained poise by her recent sufferings or +whether spending Christmas with her friend in +the big empty Quadrangle appealed to her romantic +nature, it would be difficult to tell. Through +all the complexities of her nature her devotion +to Molly was interwoven like a silver thread, and +the shame and remorse she still felt in looking +back on that unhappy evening when she had denounced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +her friend only seemed to draw the two +girls more closely together.</p> + +<p>Molly gave her a joyous hug.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Judy, I am so happy. I never dreamed +of such a blessing as this. Even Otoyo is going +away this year and hardly half a dozen girls +are left in the Quadrangle. I am truly glad I +had the courage to decline Millicent’s invitation. +It was only for one instant I was tempted to go, +but she ruined it by a patronizing speech.”</p> + +<p>“What a singular little creature she is,” observed +Judy. “She has no charm, if she can beat +on silver; and she’s so awfully conscious of her +wealth. I don’t know how I could ever have admired +her. I suppose I was lured in the beginning +by her fine clothes and her grand way of +talking.”</p> + +<p>“She is very talented,” Molly continued, “but, +as you say, she lacks charm. Perhaps she would +have been different if she had been poor and +obliged to turn her gifts to some use. After +all, I think we are happier than rich girls. We +are not afraid to be ourselves. We wear old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +clothes and we have an object in view when we +work, because we want to earn money.”</p> + +<p>“Earn money,” repeated Judy. “I only wish +I could give papa the surprise of his life by earning +a copper cent.”</p> + +<p>Molly was silent. Her own earning capacity +had not been great that winter. She had kept +herself in pin money by tutoring, but lately she +had made an alarming discovery. When she had +first started to college, teaching had been the ultimate +goal of her ambitions. She intended to be +a teacher in a private school and perhaps later +have a school of her own, as Nance wished to do.</p> + +<p>Now, as her horizon broadened and her tastes +and perceptions began taking form and shape, +she found herself drifting farther and farther +away from her early ambition. Something was +waking up in her mind that had been asleep. It +was like a voice crying to be heard, still immensely +far away and inarticulate, but growing clearer +and more insistent all the time.</p> + +<p>It made her uneasy and unsettled. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +yearned to express herself, but the power had +not yet arrived.</p> + +<p>The two girls went down to the village that +afternoon to see the last trainload of students +pull out of Wellington station, and later to make +some purchases at the general store. It was +Christmas Eve and the streets were filled with +shoppers from the country around Wellington. +Molly was trying to recall the words of a poem +she had heard ages back, the rhythm of which +was beating in her head, and Judy was endeavoring +to explain to herself why she felt neither +homesick nor blue on this the first Christmas ever +spent away from her parents.</p> + +<p>They paused to look in at the window of a +florist who did a thriving business in Wellington. +A motor car was waiting in front of the shop.</p> + +<p>“We must have some Christmas decorations, +too,” exclaimed Judy about to enter, when the +way was blocked by a crowd of people coming +out. “What pretty girls!” continued Judy in a +whisper, looking admiringly at two young women +who came first.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>The prettiest one, who had red hair not unlike +Molly’s and brown eyes, called over her shoulder:</p> + +<p>“Edwin, I shan’t save you a seat beside me +unless you’re there to claim it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be there, Alice, never fear,” answered +Professor Green, hurrying after her with an armload +of holly and cedar garlands.</p> + +<p>Molly stood rooted to the spot while the shoppers +crowded into the car.</p> + +<p>“If I could only tell him how sorry I am for +that cruel speech,” she thought.</p> + +<p>With a sudden determination, she rushed toward +the car, calling:</p> + +<p>“Professor!”</p> + +<p>The girl named Alice looked around quickly, +but apparently she did not choose to see Molly, +and as the car moved off she began laughing and +talking in a very sprightly and vivacious manner.</p> + +<p>Molly sighed. The longer an apology is delayed +the more trivial and insignificant it becomes.</p> + +<p>“He probably has forgotten all about it,” she +thought. “He seems happy enough with Alice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +whoever she is. Perhaps what I said hurt me +more than it did him, but, oh, I do wish I had +seen him before he went away. It would have +been different then, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>She followed Judy into the flower store. Mrs. +McLean was there with Andy.</p> + +<p>“Why, here are two lassies left over!” cried +the good woman.</p> + +<p>“What luck, mother!” said Andy. “Now +we’ll have some fun. We’ll give a dinner and +a dance, and Larry and Dodo will come over. +We will, won’t we, mother?”</p> + +<p>“What a coaxer you are, Andy. You’re still +a lad of ten and not nineteen, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you let him persuade you to give parties +when you’re not of a mind to do it, Mrs. +McLean,” put in Judy.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t miss the chance, my dear. I like +it as much as he does. We’ll have it to-morrow +night and you’ll come prepared to be as merry +as can be and cheer up the doctor. He has been +so busy of late he has forgotten how to enjoy +himself.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It doesn’t look as if we were going to spend +such a quiet Christmas after all, Judy,” laughed +Molly, when Mrs. McLean and Andy had gone.</p> + +<p>Judy was engaged in selecting all the most +branching and leafy boughs of holly she could +find, while the florist looked on uneasily.</p> + +<p>That afternoon they spent an hour beautifying +their yellow sitting room. And all the time +Molly’s mind was harking back to Christmas a +year ago, when the Greens had busied themselves +preparing such a delightful party for Otoyo and +her.</p> + +<p>“And I said he was not a loyal friend,” she +said to herself. “Oh, if I could only unsay those +words!”</p> + +<p>She sat down at her desk and seized a pen.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do?” asked an inner +voice.</p> + +<p>“I am going to write a note and tell him I’m +sorry, and then I’m going over to the cloisters +and slip it under his door. It will ease my mind, +even if he doesn’t get the note until he comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +back. He’ll know then that I couldn’t go to sleep +Christmas Eve until I had apologized.”</p> + +<p>The note finished, she carefully addressed and +sealed it. Judy was in her own room composing +a joint letter to her mother and father, and did +not see Molly when she slipped out of the room +and hurried downstairs. Outside, the pale winter +twilight still lingered and the sky was piled high +with fleecy white clouds.</p> + +<p>“It’s going to snow,” thought Molly, as she +hurried along the arcade and opened the little +oak door leading into the cloisters.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XV.<br /> + +<small>A CHRISTMAS GHOST STORY THAT WAS NEVER TOLD.</small></h2> + + +<p>It was quite dark in the corridor whereon +opened the cloister offices. All the teachers had +gone away for the holidays and the place was +as ghostly as a deserted monastery.</p> + +<p>“I can’t say I’d like to be here alone on a dark +night, if it is such a young cloister. It seems +to have been born old like some children,” Molly +thought.</p> + +<p>She coughed and the sound reverberated in +the arched ceiling and came back to her an empty +echo.</p> + +<p>Pausing at Professor Green’s door, she stooped +to shove the note underneath, when, to her surprise, +the door opened at her touch and swung +lightly back.</p> + +<p>With an exclamation, Molly started back, leaving +the note on the floor. Leaning against one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +of the deep silled windows, just where the fast +fading light fell across his face, stood a tall, +stoop-shouldered man. In the flashing glimpse +Molly caught of him before she turned and fled, +she noticed that he resembled an old gray eagle +with a thin beak of a nose and a worn white +face; and that his dark eyes were quite close together. +The rest of him was lost in the black +shadows of the room.</p> + +<p>Once out of the ghostly corridor and the heavy +oak door shut between her and the strange visitor +in the Professor’s office, Molly paused and +took a deep breath.</p> + +<p>“In the name of goodness,” she cried, “what +have I just seen? If he had stirred or blinked +an eyelash or even appeared to breathe, I should +at least have felt he was human.”</p> + +<p>The big empty hall of the Quadrangle seemed +a cheerful spot in comparison with the cloister +corridor. It was warm and light and from the +seniors’ parlor came the sound of piano playing. +But Molly never paused to look in and see what +belated student was cheering herself with music.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +Only her own sitting room with its gay holiday +decorations and Judy twanging the guitar could +recall her to a world of realities. Before she +reached the door she had made up her mind that +it would be just as well not to tell the excitable +and impressionable Judy anything about the apparition +or whatever it was in the Professor’s +study. It was really an act of self-denial, because +it would have been decidedly interesting to discuss +the episode with Judy.</p> + +<p>“I would have told Nance,” she thought. “She +would have agreed with me, I am sure, that it +couldn’t have been a ghost because, of course, +there are no such things. But if I tell Judy, I +know perfectly well she will persuade me it was +a ghost and we’ll be frightened to death all +night.”</p> + +<p>Judy, still wearing her widow’s weeds, was +singing a doleful ballad when Molly hurried in, +called “By the Bonnie Milldams o’ Binnorie.” +Molly was fond of this ancient song, but she was +in no mood to listen to it just then.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘The youngest stood upon a stane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eldest cam’ and pushed her in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sister, sister, reach your hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye sall be heir to half my land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sister, sister, reach but your glove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet William sall be your love.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>The guitar gave out a mournful twang.</p> + +<p>“Talk about impressionable people, I’m worse +than she is,” thought Molly. “I’ll shriek aloud +if she doesn’t stop this minute.”</p> + +<p>Just then the six o’clock bell boomed out and +Molly did give a loud nervous exclamation.</p> + +<p>Judy dropped the guitar on the floor. The +strings resounded with a deep protesting chord +and then subsided into resigned quietude.</p> + +<p>“Molly, what is the matter? You’re as pale as +a ghost.”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled at her own weakness. Having +just made up her mind not to tell Judy, she was +suddenly possessed with a fever to relate the entire +incident from beginning to end.</p> + +<p>“If you’ll promise to put on your red dress<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +to-night by way of celebration, and to cheer me +up, I’ll tell you a thrilling story, Judy.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve made a vow and I can’t break it.”</p> + +<p>“Did the vow stipulate that you couldn’t wear +colors Christmas Eve?”</p> + +<p>“No, not exactly.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, get into your scarlet frock, because +I’ll never tell you if you wear that black +one, and I’ll put on some old gay-colored rag, too, +and after supper I’ll tell you a thrilling tale.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll put on the red dress,” said Judy, “if you +promise never to tell Nance, but I can’t wait until +after supper to hear the story.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to. It’s a long tale and there won’t +be time to dress and tell it, too.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” consented Judy, “because it’s Christmas +Eve, the very time to tell thrilling tales if +they are true, I’ll agree.”</p> + +<p>And obediently she attired herself in the scarlet +dress, while Molly put on a blue blouse that, by +a happy chance, matched the color of her eyes as +perfectly as if they had been cut from the same +bolt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did it really happen to me,” she kept thinking, +“or did I dream it after all?”</p> + +<p>There was no chance to tell Judy the story +after supper, because the two girls were summoned +to the parlor almost immediately to see +three callers, Andy, Dodo Green and Lawrence +Upton.</p> + +<p>During the visit Molly seized the opportunity +to ask the younger Green where his brother was +spending his Christmas.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he’s making visits around the county,” +answered George Theodore carelessly. “He always +has enough invitations for three, but he +was never known to accept any before. I don’t +know what’s got into the old boy this year. He’s +getting as giddy as a débutante, going to parties +and rushing around in motors. I have had to +make two trips over to Wellington, first to get +his evening clothes because he forgot to pack +them, and then for his pumps and dress shirts +I forgot myself. When the old boy goes into +anything, he always does it in good style. He +used to be a kind of dude about ten years ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +But he’s all the way to thirty now and he feels +his age. Do you notice how bald he’s getting? +He’ll be losing his teeth next.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad he’s having such a good time,” said +Molly, disdaining the aspersions cast by George +Theodore on his brother’s age. “I hope he is +well and happy,” she added in her thoughts. “I +am sure I don’t begrudge him a jolly Christmas, +considering what a jolly one he gave me last year. +I am sorry I left the note, now. Like as not, he +doesn’t even remember what I said that day and +when he reads the letter he won’t know what I +am talking about.”</p> + +<p>At last the boys left. Judy was intensely relieved. +She desired only one thing on earth: to +hear Molly’s ghost story. All her perceptions +were on edge with curiosity, but she was determined +to have all things in harmony for the telling +of a Christmas Eve Ghost Story. So she +restrained her inquisitiveness until they had +slipped on dressing-gowns and were both comfortably +installed in big chairs with a box of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +candy and a plate of salted almonds between +them.</p> + +<p>“And now, begin,” she said, sighing comfortably.</p> + +<p>But Molly had scarcely uttered three words +when she was interrupted by the arrival of packages +from the late train brought up by the faithful +Murphy.</p> + +<p>Even Judy’s unsatisfied curiosity regarding the +tale could not hold out against these fascinating +boxes, and the story waited while they untied the +strings and eagerly tore off the paper wrappings.</p> + +<p>“I suppose we ought to wait until to-morrow +morning, but since we’re just two lonely little +waifs, I think we might gratify ourselves this +once, don’t you, Molly dear?” asked Judy.</p> + +<p>“I certainly do,” Molly agreed, “seeing as it +doesn’t matter to anybody whether we look at +them now or in the morning.”</p> + +<p>It was a long time before they settled down +again to the story, and Molly had not advanced +a paragraph when there came another tap at the +door. Evidently the Quadrangle gates were to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +be kept open late that night or account of the +arrival of holiday packages.</p> + +<p>This time it was a boy from the florist’s, fairly +laden with flower boxes.</p> + +<p>Andy had sent both the girls violets.</p> + +<p>“Very sweet and proper of him, I’m sure, in +the absence of Nance,” laughed Judy.</p> + +<p>Lawrence Upton had sent Molly a box of +American beauties.</p> + +<p>“And he could ill afford it, the foolish boy,” +ejaculated Molly.</p> + +<p>Dodo had expended all his savings on a handsome +Jerusalem cherry tree for Judy. There was +another box for Molly. It contained violets and +two cards—Miss Grace Green’s and Professor +Edwin Green’s.</p> + +<p>Molly blushed crimson when she read the +names. For the thousandth time she covered herself +with reproaches. She sat down and gathered +the bouquets into her lap.</p> + +<p>“Judy,” she cried contritely, “what have I done +to gain all these kind friends? I’m sure I don’t +deserve it. The dears!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Judy was too much engaged with her own +numerous gifts to contradict this self-depreciating +statement.</p> + +<p>“I am really happy, Molly,” she cried, “even +without mamma and papa it’s been a lovely +Christmas Eve.”</p> + +<p>With one of those divinations which sometimes +comes to us like a voice from another land, it suddenly +occurred to Molly that whatever it was in +Professor Green’s office, whether ghost or human, +perhaps the Professor might not like to have it +discussed, and she resolved not to tell Judy or +anyone else what she had seen.</p> + +<p>“And then,” she continued, “if he ever asks me +whether I told, it will be a nice, comfortable feeling +to say I haven’t.”</p> + +<p>At last, having put the flowers back in the +boxes and restored some order to the room, Judy +sat down and folded her hands.</p> + +<p>“And now, go on with the story.”</p> + +<p>“My dear child, so much has happened since +then and I’m so weary, I don’t think I can make +it the frightful tale I had intended.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, it was all a joke?” asked Judy, whose enthusiasm +had about spent itself in other outlets.</p> + +<p>“Oh, partly a joke. I went down to the cloisters +to leave a Christmas note for Professor +Green at his office and saw a ghostly looking figure +there.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all? Well, anybody might look like +a phantom in that gloomy place. I’ve no doubt +the ghostly figure took you for another.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve no doubt it did,” answered Molly, laughing, +and with that they kissed and went to bed.</p> + +<p>Long after midnight Molly rose and slipped +on her dressing-gown. Creeping out of her room, +she flitted along the corridor, turned the corner +and hurried up the other side of the Quadrangle. +At the very end of this hall was a narrow passage +with a window which commanded a view +of the courtyard and the windows of the cloister +studies.</p> + +<p>Softly raising the blind, she looked out. In one +of the studies a dim light was burning. She +counted windows. It was Professor Green’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +office, she was certain. While she looked the +light went out.</p> + +<p>Back to her bed she flew with a feeling that +somebody was chasing her.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thing certain,” she thought, drawing +the covers over her head, “ghosts never need +lights.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> + +<small>MORE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS AND A COASTING +PARTY OF TWO.</small></h2> + + +<p>All the bells in Wellington were ringing when +the girls awoke Christmas morning. The sweet-toned +bell of the Chapel of St. Francis mingled +its notes with the persistent appeal of the Roman +Catholic bell across the way, while on the next +street the bell of the Presbyterian Church sent +out a calm doctrinal call for all repentant sinners +to be on hand sharp for the ten o’clock service. +And in this confusion of sound came the tinkle +of sleigh bells like a note of pleasure in a religious +symphony.</p> + +<p>“Merry Christmas!” cried Judy, running into +the room with an armful of parcels done up with +white tissue paper and tied with red ribbons. +“Here are the presents Nance and the others left +for you. ‘My lady fair, arise, arise, arise!’”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Merry Christmas!” cried Molly, bounding +out of bed and rushing to find the presents she +had been commissioned to take care of for Judy.</p> + +<p>The two girls climbed under the covers and +began to open their gifts.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Nance!” ejaculated Judy. “How +well she knows my wants. She’s given me an +address book because she disapproved of my +keeping addresses on old envelopes.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly003" id="molly003"></a> +<img src="images/molly003.jpg" width="400" height="588" alt="“AND SHE’S GIVEN ME A PAIR OF SILK STOCKINGS,” CRIED +MOLLY.—Page 213." title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">“AND SHE’S GIVEN ME A PAIR OF SILK STOCKINGS,” CRIED +MOLLY.—<i>Page 213.</i></span> +</div> + +<p>“And she’s given me a pair of silk stockings,” +cried Molly, “because she knows my luxurious +tastes run to such things.”</p> + +<p>“Edith Williams is the class joker,” remarked +Judy, laughing. “She’s sent me a novel by Black +and she’s written on the fly leaf, ‘For the first +six months the Merry Widow read only novels +by Black.’”</p> + +<p>“Weren’t they dears?” broke in Molly. “They +knew we’d be lonely and they wanted to make +us laugh Christmas morning. Look what Edith +sent me.”</p> + +<p>It was a small round basket of sweet grass, +no doubt purchased at the village store, and inside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +on pink cotton was a pasteboard medal. +Printed around the outer edge of the medal was +the following announcement: “Awarded to +Pallas Athene Brown for the Best General Average +in Good Manners and Amiability by the Wellington +High School.”</p> + +<p>There was a hole punched in one end of the +medal with a blue ribbon run through it. On +one of Edith’s cards in the box was written:</p> + +<p>“To be worn on great occasions.”</p> + +<p>The two girls received other amusing presents. +If their friends had hoped to cheer them on their +lonely Christmas morning, they had succeeded +wonderfully well. Judy especially was in the +wildest spirits. It was a custom of hers to describe +her feelings exactly as a chronic invalid +recounts his sensations.</p> + +<p>“I’m all aglow with good cheer. I could dance +and sing. It must be a sort of Christmas spirit +in the air. I do adore to get presents. I think +I have more curiosity in my nature than you, +Molly. Why don’t you open the rest of yours?”</p> + +<p>Molly was lost in admiration of a beautiful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +little copy of Maeterlinck’s “<cite>Pelléas et Mélisande</cite>” +sent to her by Mary Stewart.</p> + +<p>“Because I like to eat my cake slowly,” she +answered, “and get all the fine flavor without +choking myself to death. Oh,” she cried, taking +the tissue paper off a small parcel, “how lovely +of your mother, Judy, to send me this beautiful +lace collar!”</p> + +<p>“It’s just like the one she sent me,” answered +Judy, as pleased as a child over Molly’s enthusiasm. +“But do look in the other boxes. What’s +that square thing? If it were mine, I should be +palpitating with curiosity.”</p> + +<p>If Judy had guessed what the square box contained, +she would not have been so eager to precipitate +an embarrassing situation.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Mistress Judy, we’ll find out immediately +what’s inside. Where did it come +from, anyway?”</p> + +<p>“There’s not the slightest inkling of who sent +it,” answered Judy, examining the address printed +in a sort of script. “Whoever sent it knew how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +to do lettering, certainly. But the postmark is +smeared.”</p> + +<p>Molly cut the string and removed the brown +paper wrapping. The article inside the box was +folded in a quantity of tissue paper.</p> + +<p>“It has as many coverings as a royal Egyptian +mummy,” exclaimed Judy impatiently.</p> + +<p>It had indeed. After stripping off several +layers of paper it was necessary to cut another +string before the rest of the paper could be removed.</p> + +<p>At last, however, another china Martin Luther +emerged from his tissue paper shell. The two +girls gasped with surprise and consternation.</p> + +<p>“Will wonders never cease?” ejaculated Molly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure it’s just another joke the girls are +playing on us,” broke in Judy with some excitement. +“Here’s a card. What does it say?”</p> + +<p>On a pasteboard card, written in the same +script as the address, was the following mystifying +message:</p> + +<p>“Was it kind to put such temptation in the +way of the weak?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What does it mean, Judy?” asked Molly. “I +seem to be groping in the dark.”</p> + +<p>Judy shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You can search me,” she said expressively. +“Why don’t you break a hole in him and see?”</p> + +<p>“No sooner said than done,” answered Molly. +“But I really feel like a butcher. This is the third +time I’ve destroyed a pig.”</p> + +<p>She cracked the bank on the head of her little +iron bed, but only a silver quarter rolled out on +the floor. The rest of the money was in bills, +three five dollar bills, which had been compactly +folded and pushed through the slit in the pig’s +back.</p> + +<p>“Fifteen dollars and a quarter!” ejaculated +Molly. “That was just about what the original +sum was, but I suppose in silver it was too heavy +to come through the mails.”</p> + +<p>She lay back on her pillows, her brows +wrinkled into a puzzled frown.</p> + +<p>“It’s a curious performance,” she said, after a +brief silence. “I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>Judy at the foot of the bed, half buried in tissue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +paper and Christmas presents, glanced out +of the window at the snowy landscape. There +was a strange expression on her face and two +little imps of laughter lurked in her wide gray +eyes. Molly looked at her a moment, but Judy +would not meet her gaze.</p> + +<p>“Julia Kean,” broke out Molly, suddenly, “do +you know whom you look like this moment? +Mona Lisa. You have the same mysterious smile +as if you knew a great deal more than you intended +to tell. Now just turn around and look +me in the eyes.” Molly crawled from under the +covers and put her hands on her friend’s +shoulders. “Who sent me that first Martin +Luther with all the small change?”</p> + +<p>Judy’s lips curled into an irresistible smile. +There was something very mellowed and soft +about her face, like an old portrait, the colors +of which had deepened with the years.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t angry with me, Molly, dearest?” +she asked, laying her cheek against Molly’s.</p> + +<p>“Angry? How could I be angry, you adorable +child?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You see it was just taking money out of one +pocket to put it in the other, and it was the only +way I could think of to make you take the yellow +dress. You wouldn’t accept it as a gift. Of +course, I never dreamed the real thief would repent.”</p> + +<p>The two friends looked into each other’s eyes +with loving confidence.</p> + +<p>“Dear old Judy!” cried Molly, “I don’t know +what I have done to deserve such a friend as +you. And what an imagination you have! Who +but you would ever have conceived such a notion? +And to think, too, that I would never have known, +if the real person who took the money hadn’t +had an attack of conscience.”</p> + +<p>“It would certainly have remained a secret forever +unless Nance had confessed it on her death +bed,” laughed Judy. “She’s that close, I imagine +her first confession would be her last one.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll wear the dress to-night, Judy, just to +show you how much I appreciate the gift,” announced +Molly.</p> + +<p>Judy put on a broad lace collar that morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +and a lavender velvet bow, by way of lightening +her mourning.</p> + +<p>There was a good deal to do during the day, +getting the rooms straightened and writing +letters.</p> + +<p>All morning the snow fell so softly and quietly +that the Quadrangle seemed to be isolated in a +still white world of its own. Not even the campus +houses could be seen through the thick curtain +of flakes. Molly could picture to herself +no more delightful occupation than to stay indoors +all day and read one of her new Christmas +books. Nothing could have been more cheerful +than the little sitting room with its Christmas +greens and vases of flowers.</p> + +<p>Curled up in one of the big chairs, Molly’s +mind wandered idly from the open pages of the +book in her lap to the recent inexplicable happenings. +Who was the mysterious visitor in the +Professor’s study? After all, it was none of her +business, but she felt some natural curiosity +about it. Who was the girl who had stolen the +china pig?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t want to know,” she admonished herself.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, it was impossible not to make a +few random conjectures.</p> + +<p>Judy, restlessly beating a tattoo on the window, +was thinking the same thing.</p> + +<p>“Molly,” she burst out, after a long silence, +“I have an idea who that girl is. Have you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I’d rather not mention her name. +It’s too dreadful. And you know how I feel +about circumstantial evidence.”</p> + +<p>“All I say is,” announced Judy, “that it’s a +certain person who makes the loudest noise about +losing her own things.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she’s repented,” said Molly, “so let’s +try and forget it.”</p> + +<p>There was another brief but eloquent silence. +Judy pressed her face against the window pane.</p> + +<p>“I did think,” she observed presently, “that +those boys would come to take us out for a sleigh +ride or a coast or something this afternoon. But +we can’t wait around here all day for them. It +would be paying them too much of an honor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +Why not go coasting ourselves? I’ll get Edith’s +sled and we’ll walk over to Round Head.”</p> + +<p>“That would be fine,” said Molly, with all the +enthusiasm she could muster. Reluctantly she +laid aside her book and began to dress for the +walk.</p> + +<p>When two intimate associates are not mutually +agreed, the more selfish one never dreams of the +sacrifices of the other. Molly had no taste for +battling with the snow, and when in half an +hour they found themselves plunging through +the drifts on their way to the steep coasting hill, +she turned a wistful inward eye back toward the +comforts of the yellow-walled sitting room. The +Morris chair, the prized antique rug and the +Japanese scroll with the snow-capped Fujiyama +and the sky-blue waters called to her insistently.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t this glorious, Molly?” ejaculated Judy, +fired with the energy of her enthusiasms.</p> + +<p>“Dee-lightful,” replied poor Molly, brushing +the snow out of her eyes with admirable pretense +at cheerfulness. However, the snowfall began +to diminish and when they reached Round Head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +the storm had apparently spent itself. Molly +felt the glow of exercise she really needed and +she admired the splendid panorama of the snow-clad +valley stretching before them.</p> + +<p>“It is beautiful,” she admitted, “and what fun, +Judy, to go whizzing down Round Head! It will +be the longest coast I have ever taken in my +life.”</p> + +<p>Clambering up the side of the hill had not been +as difficult as they had expected, because the +wind had swept that part of it clear of drifts +and the way was plain. When at last they +reached the top, Molly was no longer sorry that +Judy had dragged her from “The Idylls of the +King” and the comforts of an easy chair.</p> + +<p>“You’re not afraid, Molly?” asked the reckless +Judy, looking with the glittering eye of anticipation +down the long track of white over +which they would presently be flying.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why I should be,” answered Molly +evasively. “Even if we fall off, it will be on +a bed of snow as soft as a down comfort.”</p> + +<p>“Come along, then,” cried Judy, “we’ll have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +the sensation of our lives. And we might as +well make it a good one, because it’s beginning +to snow again and we’d better not try it a second +time.”</p> + +<p>Judy had coasted down Round Head before +and knew just the spot on the hill where the +Wellington girls were accustomed to start the +long slide on bobs and sleds.</p> + +<p>Sitting behind Judy, Molly closed her eyes and +the sled commenced its journey. For some moments +it skimmed along at a reasonable speed, +but as it gained in impetus, she had the sensation +of riding on the tail of a comet.</p> + +<p>“Look out for the bump,” called Judy with +amazing calm and forethought, considering the +circumstances.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="molly004" id="molly004"></a> +<img src="images/molly004.jpg" width="400" height="556" alt="THE NEXT THING SHE KNEW SHE WAS BURIED DEEP IN A SNOW +DRIFT, AND JUDY WAS WHIZZING ON ALONE.—Page 224" title="" /> +<br /><span class="caption">THE NEXT THING SHE KNEW SHE WAS BURIED DEEP IN A SNOW +DRIFT, AND JUDY WAS WHIZZING ON ALONE.—<i>Page 224</i></span> +</div> + +<p>But the warning had no meaning for Molly, +whose experience in coasting was of a very mild +and unexciting character. The shock of the rise +caused her to lose her hold, and the next thing +she knew she was buried deep in a snow drift +and Judy was whizzing on alone into the unknown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I never did really enjoy coasting,” thought +Molly, climbing out of the drift and shaking herself +vigorously like a wet dog. “It’s all right +if nothing happens, but something always does +happen and then it’s a regular nuisance.”</p> + +<p>Already the tracks of the sled were covered +by the fast falling snow and it was impossible +to see just where the tumble had occurred on +the hillside.</p> + +<p>“Judy,” called Molly, hurrying down the hill; +while at the same moment Judy was calling +Molly as she hastened back.</p> + +<p>The two girls passed each other at no great +distance apart, but they might have been as +widely separated as the poles for all they could +see or hear in the blinding snowstorm.</p> + +<p>After calling and searching in vain, Judy +started back to Wellington, feeling sure that her +friend had gone that way; and Molly, who was +gifted with no bump of location whatever, blindly +groping in the snowstorm turned in the opposite +direction.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> + +<small>THE WAYFARERS.</small></h2> + + +<p>Human beings have been variously compared +by imaginative persons to pawns on a chessboard; +storm-tossed boats on the sea of life; pilgrims +on a weary way, and other things of no resemblance +whatever to the foregoing.</p> + +<p>Molly, marching stoically along the lonely +road under the impression that she was on her +way to Wellington when she was really turned +toward Exmoor, might have fitted into any of +those comparisons rather more literally than was +intended.</p> + +<p>She was certainly a storm-tossed pilgrim if +not a boat; the way was decidedly weary and as +pawn, pilgrim or ship, whichever you will, she +was about to come in contact with another of +life’s pawns, pilgrims or ships, to the decided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +advantage of the one and amazement of the +other.</p> + +<p>This new pawn, pilgrim or ship was now advancing +down the road, and Molly, mindful of +the fact that she was not getting anywhere when +she felt sure that by this time she should at least +have reached the lake, was not sorry to see a +human being.</p> + +<p>The stranger looked decidedly like the pilgrim +of romance. He wore an old black felt hat with +a broad slouching brim and a long Spanish cape +reaching below his knees; his staff was a rosewood +cane with a silver knob.</p> + +<p>He was about to pass Molly without even +glancing in her direction when she stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Would you mind telling me if it’s very far +from Wellington?” she asked. “I’m afraid I’m +lost.”</p> + +<p>“Do you imagine you are going to Wellington?” +he demanded, looking up.</p> + +<p>Instantly Molly recognized him. He was the +man she had seen the night before in Professor +Green’s study.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I did think so,” she answered meekly.</p> + +<p>“I would advise you to go in the opposite direction, +then,” he said. “Exmoor lies that way.” +He pointed down the road with his stick.</p> + +<p>“How stupid of me!” exclaimed Molly. “I +was coasting and tumbled off the sled. I was +completely dazed, I suppose, when I crawled out +of the drift.”</p> + +<p>The two walked along in silence. Molly gave +the man a covert glance. He was very distinguished +looking and vaguely reminded her of +someone.</p> + +<p>“You are one of the students of Wellington?” +he asked presently.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Molly respectfully.</p> + +<p>The stranger smiled.</p> + +<p>“You are from the south. I never heard a +girl across the boundary line use ‘sir.’”</p> + +<p>“I am,” she answered briefly.</p> + +<p>“And from what part, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“From Carmichael Station, Kentucky.”</p> + +<p>The man stopped as if he had been struck a +blow in the face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Carmichael Station, Kentucky,” he repeated +in a half whisper. Drawing a leather wallet from +his inside pocket, he took out a folded legal cap +document and opened it. “Ahem. Not far to +go,” he said in a low voice, running down a list +with one finger. “Your name——”</p> + +<p>“Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Mildred Carmichael Brown, I presume.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mary. My sister’s named Mildred.”</p> + +<p>The old man refolded the document, put it +carefully back in the wallet, which he returned +to his pocket. Then he resumed his walk, muttering +to himself.</p> + +<p>“Strange! Strange!” Molly heard him say. +“Here in a snowstorm, in the wilderness, on +Christmas day, too, I should happen to meet—I +can’t get away from them,” he cried angrily, +waving his cane. “Victims, victims! Everywhere. +They rise up and confront me when I’m +sleeping or waking—like ghosts of the past——”</p> + +<p>His mutterings gradually became inarticulate +as he wrapped his cape around him and stalked +through the snow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Hunted—hunted—hounded about——” he began +again. Suddenly he stopped, took off his hat +and held his face up to heaven as if he were about +to address some unseen power.</p> + +<p>“I’m tired,” he cried. “I’ve had enough of +these wanderings; these eternal haunting visions. +Let me have peace!” He shook his cane impotently +at the overcast skies.</p> + +<p>It was then that Molly recognized him. On +that very day but one, a year ago, had she not seen +Judith Blount stand under a wintry sky and defy +heaven in the same rebellious way?</p> + +<p>Judith’s father had come back from South +America and was hiding in the Professor’s room +at Wellington! And how like they were, the father +and daughter; the same black eyes, too close +together; the same handsome aquiline noses, and +the same self-pitying, brooding natures.</p> + +<p>Evidently, Mr. Blount had suffered deeply. +Molly thought he must be very poor. Looking +at him closely, she noticed the shabby gentility of +his appearance; the shiny seams of his Spanish +cape which had been torn and patched in many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +places; his old thin shoes, split across the toes, +and his worn, travel-stained hat.</p> + +<p>She wondered if he had any money. She suspected +that he was very hungry and her soul was +moved with pity for the poor, broken old man who +had once been worth millions.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blount,” she began.</p> + +<p>“How did you know my name?” he cried, shivering +all over like a whipped dog. “I didn’t mention +it, did I? I haven’t told any one, have I? +I came down here in disguise.” He laughed +feebly. “Disguised as a broken old man. I went +to Edwin’s rooms,” he wandered on, forgetting +that he had asked Molly a question. “You know +where they are?”</p> + +<p>Molly nodded her head. She knew quite well +that the Professor lodged in one of the former +college houses built on the old campus, used long +ago before the Quadrangle had been built flanking +the new campus.</p> + +<p>“The housekeeper recognized me as a relation +and I waited in his room some hours,” went on +the old man in a trembling voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And where did you spend the night?”</p> + +<p>“In the cloister study. I found the key on his +desk. It was marked ‘cloister study.’”</p> + +<p>“But where did you eat?” asked Molly gently.</p> + +<p>The melting sympathy in her eyes and voice +encouraged the old man to pour out his woes. +Evidently it was a great relief to him to talk after +his miseries and hardships.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been living off apples,” he said. “Very +fine apples. There was a big basket of them on +Edwin’s study table.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s an inn in the village,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>“I have come all the way from Caracas to Wellington,” +he said. “I was poor when I started; +yes, miserably, wretchedly poor. I am an old +man, old and broken. I want peace, do you understand? +Peace.”</p> + +<p>They had reached the lake and in fifteen minutes +would arrive at the Quadrangle. Mr. Blount +was leading the way, occasionally hitting the +ground savagely with his cane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly thrust her hand into her blouse and +drew out a chamois skin bag which hung by a +silk tape around her neck. Since the pilfering +had been going on at Wellington she carried +what little money she had with her during the +day and hid it under her pillow at night.</p> + +<p>Extracting ten dollars from the bag, she hurried +to the old man’s side and touched him on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Blount, I’m under great obligations to +your cousin. He has been very kind to me—always—and +I’d like you to—I’d——”</p> + +<p>It was difficult to know what to say. Was it +not strange for her, a poor little school girl, to +be offering money to a man who had so recently +been a millionaire?</p> + +<p>“Won’t you take this money?” she began +again, resolutely. “I don’t think anyone will recognize +you at the inn. It’s just a little country +place and you will be quite comfortable there +until I find Professor Green. I may get word +to him to-night, or to-morrow at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Blount eyed the money as a hungry dog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +eyes a bone. Evidently hunger and fatigue had +got the better of his pride. He took the bill and +touched it lovingly. Then he put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“You’re a nice girl,” he said. “I thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Would you like to see George Green?” asked +Molly timidly.</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” he answered fiercely. “Not that +young fool. I don’t suppose Judith is here?” he +added presently in a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. She’s in New York for the holidays.”</p> + +<p>They shook hands and separated. Mr. Blount +took the path down the other side of the lake +across the links to the village and Molly followed +the path on the college side. As she cut through +the pine woods she heard a shout.</p> + +<p>“Molly Brown, where have you been? We +have had a search for you!” cried Judy, rushing +up, followed by the three boys.</p> + +<p>“I reckon I’ve been a good deal like the pig +who thought he was going to Cork when he was +really going to Dublin,” laughed Molly. “If I +hadn’t asked the way, I suppose I’d have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +almost to Exmoor by this time. I am a poor person +to find my way about. My brother used to +tell me to take the direction opposite to the one +my instincts told me to take and then I’d be going +right.”</p> + +<p>“In other words, first make sure you’re right +and then take the other way,” said Lawrence +Upton, laughing.</p> + +<p>“You’d make a good explorer, Miss Molly,” +remarked Andy McLean. “You might discover +the South Pole and think all the time it was the +North Pole.”</p> + +<p>“That would be of great benefit to humanity,” +answered Molly, “but you may be sure I’d stop +and ask a policeman before I reached the +equator.”</p> + +<p>“It’s your proper punishment for cutting +church this morning,” here put in George Green. +“I don’t know whether it was because it was a +good excuse to go sleighing, but a lot of people +were at the ten service. Even old Edwin came +in the trail of Alice Fern.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What a pretty name!” said Molly. “It sounds +so woodsy.”</p> + +<p>“She’s a cousin,” George went on, “and a winner, +too. They’ve got a jim-dandy place ten miles +the other side of Wellington, Fern Grove. We +spent last New Year’s with them and had a +cracker-jack time.”</p> + +<p>“George Theodore Green!” ejaculated Judy, +“I never heard so much slang. I wonder you are +allowed inside Exmoor.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I cut it out there. I only use it when it’s +safe.”</p> + +<p>“I regard that as a slight on present company,” +broke in Andy. “I think you’ll just have +to take a little dose of punishment for that, Dodo. +Get busy, Larrie.”</p> + +<p>There was a wild scramble in the snow, and +finally Dodo, who had developed into a big, strapping +fellow, stronger than either of his friends, +intrenched himself behind a tree and began +throwing snowballs with the unerring aim of +the best pitcher on the Exmoor team. Molly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +hastened on to the Quadrangle, while Judy with +true sportsman taste waited to see the fun.</p> + +<p>Molly went straight to the telephone booths in +the basement corridor. By good fortune, the +haughty being who presided at the switchboard +was hovering about waiting for a long distance +call from a “certain party” in New York.</p> + +<p>That she alone in all the world was concerned +in this call and that she wished to have this corner +of the globe entirely to herself for the full +enjoyment of it were very evident facts when +Molly asked for “Fern-16-Wellington.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not working to-day,” announced the operator +shortly, arranging her huge Psyche knot at +the mirror beside her desk.</p> + +<p>Molly looked into the girl’s implacable face. +No feminine appeal would melt that heart of +stone, but perhaps the magic name of man might +fix her.</p> + +<p>“Would you do it to oblige Professor Green? +I have an important message for him.”</p> + +<p>“I guess that’s different,” announced the owner +of the Psyche knot, with a high nasal accent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +“Why didn’t you say so at first? I guess Professor +Green is about the nicest gent’man around +here.”</p> + +<p>Sitting down at the switchboard, she slipped +on the headpiece with a professional flourish. +Then, with a hand-quicker-than-the-eye movement, +she pushed several organ stops up and +down, stuck the end of a green tube into a hole +and remarked in a high pitched voice that had +great projective powers:</p> + +<p>“Wellington Exchange? Hello! Yes, I know +it’s Christmas. On hand for a long distance, are +you? Oh, you-u-u. Well, say, listen. To oblige +a certain party—a very attractive gent’man—call +up ‘Fern-16-Wellington.’”</p> + +<p>Then there was a detached monologue about +a certain party in you know where—same +gent’man that was down Thanksgiving time. +Suddenly, with professional alertness, the telephone +girl stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Fern-16-Wellington? Here’s your party. +Booth 3,” she added to Molly, in a voice so radically +different that Molly had a confused feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +that the young person who operated the Wellington +switchboard might be a creature of two personalities. +She retired timidly to the booth.</p> + +<p>“Is this the residence of Miss Alice Fern?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“It is,” came the voice of a woman from the +other end.</p> + +<p>“I would like to speak to Professor Edwin +Green.”</p> + +<p>“He’s very much engaged just now. Is it +important?”</p> + +<p>“I think it is,” hesitated Molly.</p> + +<p>“What name?”</p> + +<p>“Now what earthly difference does it make +to her what my name is?” Molly reflected with +some irritation. “Would you please tell him it’s +a message from the University?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell him nothing until you tell me your +name.”</p> + +<p>Could this be Miss Alice Fern? Molly was +fairly certain it was. Perhaps she also had two +personalities.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t do any good to tell my name. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +have nothing to do with the message. I’m only +delivering it for someone else. But if you want +to know, it’s ‘Brown.’”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. or Miss Brown?”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Molly heard the Professor’s voice +quite close to the telephone saying:</p> + +<p>“Alice, is that someone for me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, an individual of the illuminating name +of Brown wishes to speak to you. I don’t see +why they can’t leave you alone for one day in +the year.”</p> + +<p>Molly smiled. Why was it that down deep +in the unexplored caverns of her soul there lurked +an infinitesimally tiny feeling of relief that Miss +Alice Fern was plainly a vixen?</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Professor Green? This is +Molly Brown.”</p> + +<p>“How do you do? Is anything the matter?” +answered the Professor in rather an anxious +tone.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to tell you that Mr. Blount is here. +Old Mr. Blount.”</p> + +<p>The Professor seemed too surprised to answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +for a moment. Or it might have been that Miss +Alice Fern was lingering at his elbow and embarrassed +him.</p> + +<p>“Where?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“He spent last night in the cloister study. +Now, he’s at the inn. He asked me to let you +know. I met him on the road. He’s very unhappy.”</p> + +<p>“How did he happen to be in the study?”</p> + +<p>“He—he had no money.”</p> + +<p>“And now he’s at the inn? Has he seen anyone +but you?”</p> + +<p>“No.” Molly blushed hotly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll come right over. Thank you very much.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Edwin, what a nuisance!” broke in the +voice of Miss Fern.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye. Thank you again. I really must, +Alice. Very impor——”</p> + +<p>The receiver had been hung up and the connection +lost.</p> + +<p>“Oh, these cousins!” Molly reflected with a +laugh as she hurried up to her room.</p> + +<p class="star">**********</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a gay party at the McLeans’ that +night and one unexpected guest arrived just before +dinner. It was Professor Green. They +squeezed him in somehow at the end of the table +with the doctor, and the two made merry together +like school boys. Molly had never seen +the Professor of English Literature in such joyous +spirits. After dinner, when the dancing commenced, +he sought her out and led her to a secluded +sofa in the back hall. She began at once +by asking about Mr. Blount, but the Professor +was not listening.</p> + +<p>“That’s one of the prettiest dresses I’ve seen +you wear,” he interrupted. “Yellow is not becoming +to most people, but it is to you. Probably +because it has the same golden quality that’s +in your hair.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you like it,” said Molly, turning red +under his steady gaze.</p> + +<p>“I found your note on my study floor,” he +went on.</p> + +<p>“I was afraid you wouldn’t remember what +I was talking about, after all,” she exclaimed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +“But I had to write it. I have never really been +happy since I said that cruel thing to you. I was +so wretched the day afterward, and when I +rushed to find you in your study, you were gone!” +she broke off with a tearful glance into his eyes.</p> + +<p>The Professor beamed upon her.</p> + +<p>“So you were unhappy,” he said, as if the +statement was not entirely unpleasing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. I know now that you were quite +right to tell Miss Walker about that silly episode +of the burying of the slipper.”</p> + +<p>“But I never told her. I know the story, of +course, and the explanation. The President told +me herself.”</p> + +<p>“But who did tell, then?”</p> + +<p>“That I can’t say.”</p> + +<p>It was now Molly’s turn to beam on the Professor.</p> + +<p>“I am glad you didn’t tell her,” she exclaimed +in tones of great relief. “You see, you didn’t +inform on Judith Blount that time, and I was +hurt. I couldn’t help from being. I was really +awfully sore.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>“My dear child,” said the Professor hurriedly, +“promise hereafter to regard me as a faithful +friend. Never doubt my sincerity again.”</p> + +<p>“I promise,” answered Molly, feeling intensely +proud without knowing why.</p> + +<p>Then the talk drifted to Mr. Blount.</p> + +<p>“And you haven’t mentioned meeting him?” +he asked. “Not even to Miss Kean?”</p> + +<p>Molly shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You are a very unusual young woman, Miss +Brown. It’s important to keep Mr. Blount’s +presence here a secret. If word got out that he +had come back, there would be a great hue and +cry in the papers. I have him with me now at +my rooms until Richard gets here. The family +will be very grateful to you for your kindness +to him.”</p> + +<p>Lawrence Upton was coming down the hall to +claim Molly for a dance.</p> + +<p>“Are you going back to the Ferns’ to-morrow?” +she asked hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“I think not,” answered the Professor with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +the ghost of a smile. “I am detained here on +business.”</p> + +<p>The next morning Molly received a short note +from Professor Green, inclosing a ten dollar bill.</p> + +<p>There was a postscript which said:</p> + +<p>“I’ve opened a barrel of greenings. Better +come around and get some.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> + +<small>HEALING THE BLIND.</small></h2> + + +<p>“But, Madeleine, I never touched an iron in +my life. I wouldn’t know how to go about it,” +protested Judith Blount.</p> + +<p>“It’s high time you learned then, child. It’s +a very useful piece of knowledge, I assure you. +You may begin on handkerchiefs first. They +are easy, just a flat surface, and it doesn’t matter +if you scorch one, especially as it’s your own. +Test the iron like this, see. Pick it up with the +holder, wet your finger and touch the bottom. +If it gives out a sizzly sound, it’s fairly hot and +may be used on something damp. It will surely +scorch dry material. Always sprinkle. Rough-dry +things can’t be ironed decently unless they +have been sprinkled and allowed to get damp +through and through.”</p> + +<p>Madeleine Petit’s unceasing flow of conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +did not stop while Judith took her first lesson +in ironing.</p> + +<p>“You see,” continued Madeleine, “I’ve made +quite a name for myself for doing up fine things +and I really need an assistant, Judith. And, +since you need the money, and I like you better +than any girl in college, I want you to help me.”</p> + +<p>Judith winced at the mention of poverty, but +her face softened when Madeleine spoke of +friendship.</p> + +<p>After all, was it not good to have a friend, a +real tried and devoted friend who had nothing +to gain but friendship in return? Yes, Madeleine +did talk a great deal. We all have our +faults. Judith’s was a temper. She knew that. +But Madeleine was good company, nevertheless, +much better company than those false friends of +Beta Phi days. She was charming and pretty +and she had a heart of pure gold. Moreover, she +was a lady, if she did talk so much.</p> + +<p>Judith loved Madeleine. For the first time +in her life she felt the stirrings of a really deep +affection for another girl. It had quickened her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +parched soul like the waters of a freshet flowing +through a thirsty land. Madeleine had first +gained the respect of the proud, discontented +girl by being always good-naturedly firm, and +now she had gained her love.</p> + +<p>Furthermore, Judith felt for the first time the +pleasure of doing something for someone else. +It was a matter of infinite secret joy to her that +she had been able to help Madeleine with her +studies. In a way she had constituted herself +tutor to the little Southern girl; had criticized +her themes; given her a boost in the dreaded +French Literature and carried her over the +blighting period of mid-year examinations. +Madeleine had spent Christmas with the Blounts +at a boarding house in New York and had given +them a taste of Southern conversation, humor +and anecdotes that had made that dreary time +for them to blossom with new enjoyments.</p> + +<p>And now Judith was learning to iron. At first +she handled the iron quite awkwardly, but in a +few minutes she became interested and the pile +of handkerchiefs rapidly decreased.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course, it isn’t as if either one of us expects +to have to iron handkerchiefs always,” +went on Madeleine, “but it doesn’t hurt us to +know how, just the same, and I have always +found that doing common things well only made +one do uncommon things better. Now, I intend +to be a Professor of Mathematics. I don’t know +where nor how, but those are my intentions. +There’s no ironing of jabots connected with +mathematics, but somehow I feel that ironing +jabots well makes me more proficient in mathematics.</p> + +<p>“By the way, have you settled on anything to +do yet? It’s time you began to think about it, +unless you decide to take a Post Grad. course +and be with me next year. That would be perfectly +grand, wouldn’t it?”</p> + +<p>Madeleine’s small pretty hands paused an instant +in their busy fluttering over the garments +she was sprinkling, and she smiled so sweetly +upon Judith that the black-browed young woman +felt moved beyond the power of speech and could +only smile silently in reply.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Oh, heavens, it was good to have a friend! +Madeleine had come at a time when she most +needed her; when the whole world was nothing +but a black, hideous picture and life was a dreary +waste. Not her mother, not Richard, not Cousin +Edwin, could take the place of Madeleine.</p> + +<p>“You know I always said I wouldn’t work +for a living, Madeleine,” she answered presently, +gulping down these new, strange emotions.</p> + +<p>“My dear, we all say such things, but it’s only +talk. And, after all, it’s better to work than to +be an object of charity. Think of making your +own money; having it come in every month—say +a hundred dollars, or even more—earned by +you? Why, it’s glorious. It’s better than running +across a gold mine by accident or inheriting +a fortune, because you have done it yourself. +I intend to earn a great deal of money. I shall +rise from being a teacher to having a splendid +school of my own. It will be the most fashionable +school in the South and all the finest families +will send their daughters there. And what will +you be in my school, Judith? Because you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +commence now to work up to that eminence. +Will you be part owner with me?”</p> + +<p>Judith laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’re an absurd, adorable, sweet child,” she +said, and went on ironing busily.</p> + +<p>After all, life was not so desperately unpleasant.</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door. Judith put +down the iron hastily and retreated to the window. +She had not yet reached the point where +she was willing for others to see her engaged +in this menial work.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” called Madeleine, without stopping +an instant.</p> + +<p>To Judith’s relief, however, it was Mrs. +O’Reilly.</p> + +<p>“A note for you, Miss Blount, and the man’s +waiting for an answer.”</p> + +<p>Judith tore open the envelope impatiently. It +was a bill of two years’ running, amounting to +nearly forty dollars, from the stationery and +candy shop.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the bottom she was requested to remit at +once.</p> + +<p>“Tell the man—anything, Mrs. O’Reilly. I +can’t see him. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Miss,” said the Irish woman with +a good-natured smile.</p> + +<p>“These poor young college ladies was in hard +luck just like the men sometimes,” she thought +as she turned away.</p> + +<p>Judith sat down and began to think. Richard +was having a great struggle to keep her at college, +her mother and himself at the boarding +house, and her father in a sanitarium. It would +really be unkind to burden him with that bill; +but what was to be done?</p> + +<p>“Is it that old stationery man again?” asked +Madeleine, who had inherited a profound contempt +for dunning shopkeepers.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is, and I don’t know what to do.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you put an advertisement in the +‘Commune’? You have no idea how it will bring +in work. And then hang out a shingle, too. +People have got to learn to recognize you as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +wage-earning person before they come around +and offer you things to do.”</p> + +<p>“But what can I do? I don’t know how to +iron well enough to take in laundry, like you.”</p> + +<p>A voice outside called:</p> + +<p>“Is this Miss Madeleine Petit’s room?”</p> + +<p>“Come in. Can’t you see the name on the +door?” answered Madeleine. “There’s only one +Petit at Wellington and I’m the lady.”</p> + +<p>Millicent Porter now entered.</p> + +<p>She looked smaller and more shriveled than +ever in a beautiful mink coat and cap and a velvet +dress of a rich shade of blue that breathed +prosperity in every fold.</p> + +<p>“This is the region where signs are out asking +for work, isn’t it?” she asked in a pleasantly +patronizing, unctious voice.</p> + +<p>“We don’t ask for work. We announce that +we do it and the work comes,” replied Madeleine, +eyeing the visitor with a kind of humorous pity.</p> + +<p>“Be that as it may,” said Miss Porter, “I have +some work I want done and I’m looking for a +very competent and reliable person to do it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Judith winced at the word “reliable.”</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a servants’ agency, you know, Miss +Porter,” answered the spunky Madeleine. “Those +words are generally used when one engages a +cook or a housemaid. What is the work like?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to give an exhibition of my silver +work at the George Washington Bazaar. I may +sell some of it if I can get the price, and what I +want is a skillful and re— or rather clever——” +Madeleine blinked both eyes rapidly at the substitution—“person +to help me get it in order. +Most of it is awfully tarnished and it will need +a good deal of polishing.”</p> + +<p>“How much will you pay a skillful, clever person?” +demanded Madeleine, determined to drive +a good bargain and shrewdly guessing the kind +of person she had to deal with.</p> + +<p>“I’ll pay ten dollars,” answered Millicent glibly.</p> + +<p>“What are the pieces like?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there are chains, necklaces, platters and +bowls, and a lot of ivory things I have picked +up in Europe that must be carefully washed.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We’ll do the work for fifteen dollars,” announced +Madeleine. “No less.”</p> + +<p>Judith could hardly preserve a grave countenance +while this bargaining was going on between +the rich Miss Porter and her funny little +Southern friend.</p> + +<p>“I think that’s too much,” declared Millicent.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. The work requires care and, as +you say, reliability. It might be stolen, you +know.”</p> + +<p>Madeleine snapped her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” said Millicent in a resigned +tone of voice. “It’s a great deal to pay, but I +suppose I can’t do any better. I hear you do +everything well, Miss Petit.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Blount will do this,” answered Madeleine. +“If I do things well, she does them better. +Now, where do you want them cleaned? Down +here or up at your place?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I would never let them out of my studio,” +cried Millicent. “She must come there, where +she can be under my eye.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But——” objected Judith, and paused at a +glance from Madeleine.</p> + +<p>It would be a crushing blow to her pride for +her to go back to her old rooms and rub tarnished +silver for this perfectly insufferable Millicent +Porter. Yet fifteen dollars loomed up as quite +a considerable sum, and, with five dollars added, +could be paid to the stationery man on account.</p> + +<p>Did Judith realize in her secret soul that the +bitter dose she was now swallowing was only +a dose of the same medicine she had once forced +others to swallow?</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” said Madeleine, “we’ll give +you as much of Friday and Saturday as will be +necessary. We’ll take a lunch up on Friday so +that we won’t have to come back for supper——”</p> + +<p>She waited a moment, wondering if Millicent +would not invite them to supper at the Beta Phi. +Hospitality was so much a part of her upbringing +that it was impossible to conceive it lacking +in others.</p> + +<p>“I thought Miss Blount was to do the work.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She will. I shall work under her as assistant +rubber.”</p> + +<p>So, the bargain was clinched and Millicent departed.</p> + +<p>“Disgusting little reptile!” cried Judith when +the sounds of her footsteps died away in the hall +and the door banged behind her.</p> + +<p>Could Judith forget that she herself had once +belonged to that overbearing class?</p> + +<p>“Don’t get all stirred up, Judith, it’s bad for +your digestion,” ejaculated Madeleine. “That +girl is nothing but a mere ripple on the surface. +She’s ridiculous, but there’s no harm in her. I +am really sorry for her, because she doesn’t belong +anywhere. She could never make a friend, +and she will never know what it is to be really +liked. She thinks she’s a genius because she’s +learned how to beat out a few tawdry silver +chains, and as soon as she finishes one she locks +it up in a box and takes it out about once a +decade to look it over. Why, she’s just a poor, +starved, little creature without a spark of generosity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +in her soul. What does she know about +living and happiness?</p> + +<p>“You and I know how to live,” Madeleine continued, +flourishing her iron. “We’re in the procession. +We’re moving on, learning and progressing. +We’re going up all the time. I tell +you the highest peak in the Himalayas is not +higher than my ambitions. And I intend to take +you with me, Judith, and when we get to the +top we’ll look back and see poor, little Millicent +Porter, shriveled to nothing at the bottom!”</p> + +<p>Judith gave a strange, hysterical laugh. Suddenly +she flew across the room and embraced +her friend.</p> + +<p>“You could make me do anything, Madeleine,” +she cried. “Scale the Himalayas or cut a tunnel +through them.” Taking her friend’s small, +charming face between her two hands, she looked +her in the eyes: “Madeleine,” she said, “did +you know I used to be a blind girl? You have +healed me. I am beginning to see things as they +are.”</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> + +<small>A WARNING.</small></h2> + + +<p>The girl who had been blind and could see +and Madeleine of the unconquerable soul +appeared in Millicent’s sumptuous apartment +promptly at three o’clock on Friday afternoon.</p> + +<p>They carried with them a suitcase containing +the implements of their labor, taken chiefly from +Madeleine’s rag bag: some old stockings; several +wornout undervests and polishing cloths +made from antiquated flannel petticoats; also a +bottle of ammonia and two boxes of silver polish.</p> + +<p>“Well, here we are,” announced Madeleine, +unconcernedly, when Millicent had opened her +door to them. “I hope you have the things out +and ready. Our time is valuable.”</p> + +<p>Of no avail were Millicent’s pompous and important +airs. Madeleine insisted on treating her +as a familiar and an equal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have put you in the den. You will be less +disturbed and you can use the writing table to +spread things on. Please be care——”</p> + +<p>“Have you made an inventory?” interrupted +Madeleine.</p> + +<p>“No,” faltered Millicent. Why was it that +this poverty-stricken little person took all the +wind out of her sails?</p> + +<p>“Make it please at once in duplicate. Keep +one yourself and give us the other.”</p> + +<p>“But——” began Millicent.</p> + +<p>“No, we will not touch a thing until the inventory +is made. No ‘competent, reliable’ person +would think of doing work like this without +an inventory. We’ll wait in the other room until +you have made it.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing to do but proceed with the +inventory. It was plain that Madeleine knew +the manner of person she was dealing with.</p> + +<p>While the two girls waited in the big sitting +room, now a studio, Madeleine drew a book from +her ulster pocket and began to study. The little +Southerner was never idle one moment of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +waking day and the other seven hours she put +in sleeping very soundly. Judith began to look +about her.</p> + +<p>The room was little changed from the old days, +except that it was even richer in aspect. There +were some splendid old altar pieces on the walls +and a piece of beautiful old rose brocade hung +between the studio and the den. But, after all, +what did it come to? Was anyone really fond +of Millicent with all her wealth? Why, Judith, +poor and forgotten, had made a friend. She felt +small tenderness toward the rest of the world, +but she loved Madeleine.</p> + +<p>Molly Brown came into the room at this stage +in Judith’s reflections.</p> + +<p>“Why, hello, girls!” she exclaimed cordially, +shaking hands with the silver-rubbers. “Where +is Millicent?”</p> + +<p>“She is making an inventory of her valuables +before we begin to clean them,” replied Madeleine, +smiling sweetly and blinking both eyes at +once. “We insisted, because it would have been +unprofessional not to have had one.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The idea!” said Molly. “No, it wouldn’t. +Besides, you’re not professionals.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we are,” insisted Madeleine. “Everything +we do for money is professional work.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well,” laughed Molly, “and I suppose +you’ll polish them up so carefullee that some +day you’ll be admirals in the Queen’s Navee.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing less,” said Madeleine. “It’s my +theory exactly.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Molly,” called the voice of Millicent from +the den, “please come and help me with this +stupid thing. I can’t seem to get it straight.”</p> + +<p>And that was how Molly came to be admitted +into Millicent’s inner sanctum where she kept her +most valued possessions under lock and key.</p> + +<p>The top of a heavy oak chest rested against +the wall and inside was a perfect mine of silver +articles, many of them Millicent’s own work; +there was also a quantity of small ivory figures +collected by her in her travels.</p> + +<p>“I’ll lift out the things and call their names +and you can copy each one twice, like this: one +silver necklace—grape-vine design.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>Molly sat down and began to make the list. +They were nearly finished when Rosomond +Chase’s voice was heard in the next room.</p> + +<p>“Millicent, please come out for a moment. I +want to see you on business.”</p> + +<p>Molly, left alone, went on with the list, taking +each article from the box and noting it carefully +twice on the inventory.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Millicent and her friend were +having a secret conference in the bedroom, while +Madeleine and Judith silently waited in the +studio. The two silver-rubbers were presently +startled by the apparition of Molly standing in +the doorway. She had the look of one fleeing +before a storm, her face very pale and her eyes +dilated with horror. She started to speak, but +checked herself and closed the door behind her. +Then, hurrying into the room, she said in a low, +strained voice:</p> + +<p>“Madeleine, I would not advise you to do any +work for Miss Porter.”</p> + +<p>The two girls exchanged a long look.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Do you really mean that?” asked Madeleine.</p> + +<p>“I was never more in earnest in my life.”</p> + +<p>“But, can’t you explain?” demanded Judith +Blount.</p> + +<p>Molly shook her head and rushed from the +room.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Judith,” said Madeleine, slipping +on her ulster.</p> + +<p>“But, this is absurd!” objected Judith again.</p> + +<p>“Child,” exclaimed her friend, “don’t you +know human nature well enough to understand +that a girl like Molly Brown would never have +given a piece of advice like that without knowing +what she was talking about?”</p> + +<p>“She’s jealous because she would like to earn +the money herself.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” said Madeleine. “She is not that +kind. You know perfectly well that she is the +most generous-hearted, unselfish girl in Wellington. +She wouldn’t injure a fly if she could help +herself, and I think we had better take her advice.”</p> + +<p>But Judith was stubborn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We’ve come to do the work. Why go?”</p> + +<p>Having once committed herself to this menial +labor, she wished to see it through. After all, +whatever Molly had against Millicent Porter +couldn’t concern them, and in the end Madeleine +reluctantly gave in.</p> + +<p>Presently Millicent and Rosomond came into +the room.</p> + +<p>“What became of Molly Brown?” demanded +Millicent suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t wait,” answered Madeleine +briefly.</p> + +<p>“Was there anything the matter with her?”</p> + +<p>“She seemed in perfectly good health as far as +I know, but you had better hurry up with the +inventory, Miss Porter. We are losing time.”</p> + +<p>Rosomond <a name="helped" id="helped"></a>helped Millicent with the remainder +of the list, and by four o’clock Madeleine +and Judith were installed in the den hard +at work. All afternoon and evening they toiled +and the next morning they appeared soon after +breakfast and started in again.</p> + +<p>“This is easier than cracking rock, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +pay is considerably better, but I am just as tired +between the shoulders as a common laborer,” +Madeleine exclaimed, rubbing the last tray until +she could see her own piquant little face reflected +in its depths.</p> + +<p>“As for me, I feel as if I had been drawn and +quartered,” complained Judith. “It’s worth +more than fifteen dollars. We should have asked +twenty.”</p> + +<p>“I would have asked it, if I had thought she +could have been induced to part with so much +money, but I saw that fifteen was her limit.”</p> + +<p>Judith laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’re a regular little bargain driver,” she +said admiringly.</p> + +<p>“No, not always,” answered Madeleine. +“Only when I meet another one.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am glad we undertook it, and I am +gladder still we have finished it,” said Judith.</p> + +<p>They arranged the silver on half of the table, +and the small army of carved ivory ornaments, +for which Millicent seemed to have a passion, on +the other half. Then, removing the loose gloves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +which had protected their hands, they put on +their things and marched into the next room +with expectant faces. For the first time in all +her life Judith had earned a sum of money, and +the humblest wage-earner was not more anxious +for his week’s pay than she was.</p> + +<p>“Will you please inspect the work, Miss Porter, +and give us our money? We are tired and +want to go home,” said Madeleine.</p> + +<p>Millicent was propped up against some velvet +cushions in the window seat. There was an expression +of nervous worry on her thin sallow +face, and around her on the floor lay the scattered +bits of a note she had read, re-read, and +torn into little pieces.</p> + +<p>She was in a very bad humor, and her warped +nature was groping for something on which to +vent its accumulated spleen. She rose from the +window seat, swept grandly into the next room +and glanced at the tableful of silver and ivory.</p> + +<p>“It looks fairly well,” she said; for Millicent +was one of those persons who grudged even her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +praise. “What was the amount I promised to +pay?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say you haven’t forgotten it so soon,” +answered the intrepid Madeleine. “Fifteen dollars.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, was it so much? Will this evening do? +I haven’t that sum on hand just now. I’ll have +to go down to the bank.”</p> + +<p>“A check will do, then,” said Madeleine, sitting +down in one of the carved chairs.</p> + +<p>“I never pay with checks. I only pay cash. I +would prefer to draw out the money and pay you +this evening.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” exclaimed Madeleine. “Besides, +you know very well that the bank closes on Saturdays +at noon, and it’s now nearly four o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“So it does. Then you will have to wait until +Monday.”</p> + +<p>“We won’t wait until Monday,” ejaculated +Madeleine. “We haven’t been rubbing silver +for our health. You’d better look around in +your top drawer and see if you can’t scrape fifteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +dollars together, because I tell you plainly +if you don’t you’ll regret it.”</p> + +<p>“How regret it?” asked the other suspiciously. +“I’m not obliged to pay it until Monday, and I +won’t,” she added stubbornly.</p> + +<p>It was growing late. The girls were exhausted +and hungry. They had eaten no lunch except +crackers and cheese. At last Judith, utterly +crushed with disappointment, drew Madeleine +aside.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we leave her,” she said. “I can’t +stand it any longer.”</p> + +<p>Without another word they took their departure, +<a name="leaving" id="leaving"></a>leaving Millicent still in the window seat +looking pensively out on the campus. They were +hardly outside before she sprang to the door and +locked it. Then she hastened to the den and began +to pack feverishly and with trembling nervous +hands. Wrapping each article of silver in +tissue paper, she placed it in the chest on a bed +of raw cotton. When the table was entirely +cleared, she closed and locked the chest and, addressing +a tag, wired it to the handle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>Next she drew a trunk from the big closet +and packed it with her best clothes. This done, +she crept downstairs to the telephone and engaged +Mr. Murphy to call that night for an express +box and a trunk.</p> + +<p>The Beta Phi girls were all at a Saturday +night dance at one of the other houses when Mr. +Murphy called. Millicent explained to the matron +that her rooms were too crowded and she +was sending some of her things back to New +York.</p> + +<p>As quietly as possible she drew her other two +trunks from the closet, and by three in the morning +the rooms were entirely dismantled and all +drapery and pictures carefully packed away. +These also she locked and tagged with the precision +of one who intends to lose nothing, no +matter what’s to pay. One more task remained. +This was performed in the privacy of the den +behind closed doors. When it was done there +stood on the table a square box addressed in artistic +lettering to “Miss M. Brown, No. 5 Quadrangle.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>Placing her watch on her pillow, Millicent +now rested for several hours without sleeping. +At last, at seven o’clock, dressed for a journey, +with suit case, umbrella and hand bag, she crept +softly downstairs and plunged into the early +morning mists.</p> + +<p>Not once did she glance back at the two gray +towers as she hastened down to the station, and +when the seven-thirty train for New York pulled +in, she boarded it quickly and turned her face +away from Wellington forever.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br /> + +<small>THE PARABLE OF THE SUN AND WIND.</small></h2> + + +<p>If Molly had been carrying a stick of dynamite +she could not have held it more gingerly +than the square box she was taking to President +Walker on Monday morning.</p> + +<p>“That was the reason I never liked her,” she +thought, mentioning no names even in her own +mind. “I wonder if it is true that she couldn’t +help it. It must be, when she was so rich. What +could she want with Minerva’s medals or Margaret’s +initialed ring? Both M’s, though,” she +thought, half smiling.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Miss Brown,” cried a voice behind her, +and Madeleine Petit came tearing across the +campus as fast as her little feet could carry her. +“Is it true that Millicent Porter has run away +from college?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid it is,” answered Molly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She owed us fifteen dollars,” cried Madeleine +tragically. “She promised to pay this morning, +and I have just heard rumors that she has disappeared, +bag and baggage.”</p> + +<p>“You <em>did</em> do the work for her?” asked Molly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, really, against my will. I knew you +would never advise without having something to +advise about. But Judith was determined, and +the only reason I gave in was because she had +never done any work before, and I thought it +would be good for her to make a start. She was +so happy over earning the money. It was really +wonderful to see how she brightened up. And +when we couldn’t get a cent out of Miss Porter +on Saturday afternoon, poor old Judith was so +disappointed that she cried. Think of that.”</p> + +<p>“What a shame,” exclaimed Molly, appreciating +Judith’s feelings with entire sympathy. “I’m +sure I should have cried if I had done all that +hard work and then couldn’t collect.”</p> + +<p>“But what are we to do? Must we sit back +quietly and let the rich trample the poor? Don’t +you think she is coming back?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I think not,” answered Molly.</p> + +<p>“Did you find out something those few minutes +you were in the den?”</p> + +<p>Molly nodded her head.</p> + +<p>“Is she——”</p> + +<p>The two girls exchanged frightened glances.</p> + +<p>“And her father a millionaire, too! Well, I +never,” cried Madeleine. “I think I’ll just drop +him a letter,” which she accordingly did that very +day. But she never received an answer, and +the debt still remains unpaid.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Molly was closeted with Miss +Walker for ten minutes.</p> + +<p>“It’s strange,” said the President. “I just +had a letter this morning from an old friend at +the head of a private school warning me about +this unfortunate girl who was a pupil there.”</p> + +<p>But Molly was loath to discuss the matter, +and still more loath to keep stolen property in +her private possession. She placed the box on +the President’s desk and hastened away as soon +as she politely could. That afternoon there appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +on the bulletin board the following unusual +announcement:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“All those who have lost property during the +winter may possibly be able to obtain it by applying +to the Secretary of the President.”</p></div> + +<p>That the thief had been apprehended at last +was of course understood. Putting two and two +together, the Wellington girls concluded that +Millicent Porter must have had some important +reason for fleeing early in the morning without +explanations, leaving two trunks and a debt of +honor behind her. The trunks were afterwards +expressed, according to directions left in her +room.</p> + +<p>But, for the honor of Wellington, open conversation +on the subject was not encouraged, and +most of the talk was in whispers behind closed +doors.</p> + +<p>A crowd of the girls from the Quadrangle, +where most of the pilfering had been carried on, +went together to claim their property on Monday +evening. Those who had lost money returned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +disappointed. The box of restored goods +contained none whatever. But the other articles +were duly claimed and distributed, with the exception +of one.</p> + +<p>“Does any one know to whom this belongs?” +asked the secretary, placing a photograph in a +beautiful silver frame on the top of the desk.</p> + +<p>“It must be yours, Nance,” announced Edith +Williams, with a teasing smile.</p> + +<p>“It is not,” said Nance emphatically.</p> + +<p>The other girls, now gathered around the picture, +began to laugh.</p> + +<p>Undoubtedly the small lanky boy in kilts in +the photograph was Andy McLean.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it is Mrs. McLean’s,” suggested +some one.</p> + +<p>Margaret, examining the frame with the eye +of an experienced detective, remarked in her +usual authoritative tone:</p> + +<p>“The design on the frame is Japanese.”</p> + +<p>“Otoyo,” cried Judy, and the little Japanese, +lingering near the door, crept timidly up and +claimed the picture. Her face was a deep scarlet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +as, with drooping head, she rushed from the +room.</p> + +<p>“Bless the child’s heart, who’d have thought +she had a boy’s picture,” laughed Katherine +Williams.</p> + +<p>That very night Otoyo returned the photograph +to Mrs. McLean, and with many tears +confessed that she had removed it from the +drawer without so much as asking permission.</p> + +<p>“My sweet lass,” exclaimed the doctor’s wife, +kissing her, “you shall have a good picture of +Andy if you like, taken just lately. I am only +too happy that you admire his picture enough +to put it in that beautiful frame. I’m sure I +think he’s a braw lad, the handsomest in three +kingdoms; but I am his mother, you know, and +not accountable.”</p> + +<p>Together the two women fitted the latest +photograph of the callow youth into the frame. +Otoyo presently bore it triumphantly back to +her room and placed it on the mantel shelf +where all the world could see it. That night she +slept with an easy conscience and a thankful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +heart. Her one dishonest deed was wiped out +forever.</p> + +<p>The untangling of one snarl in the skein of +affairs generally leads to the untangling of many +others. So it happened that Molly and Judy, by +the turn which events had taken, were able to +clear up a mystery that had puzzled them for +months.</p> + +<p>“I feel, Judy,” remarked Molly, one day, “that +we ought to do something nice for Minerva Higgins, +because of—you know what. We mentioned +no names and never breathed it even to +each other except vaguely Christmas day, you +remember. But we did suspect her, and thinking +is just as bad as talking when you think a +thing like that, so cruel and horrible.”</p> + +<p>Judy nodded her head thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“But she will never know we are making reparation, +Molly,” she said. “It will have to be +purely for our own private satisfaction.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” replied Molly. “That is what I +meant. We did her a wrong in our minds, and +in our minds we must undo it.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And how, pray?” demanded Judy.</p> + +<p>“Well, let me see. Couldn’t we ask her here +some night with just the three of us, and make +her fudge and be awfully sweet and interested?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose we could, if we made a superhuman +mental and physical effort,” answered Judy +lazily. “And it would take both. Why not let +well enough alone?”</p> + +<p>“But it isn’t ‘well enough,’ Judy, and we’ve +had an ugly thought about her for weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Do you call those practical jokes she played +on us last autumn pretty?” demanded Judy, who +had no liking for Minerva.</p> + +<p>“No, but she has learned better now. Anyhow, +Judy, I want to try an experiment. Do +you remember the allegory of the sun and the +wind and the man wrapped in his cloak? The +wind made a wager with the sun that he could +make the man take off his cloak, and he blew +and blew with all his might, and the more he +blew the closer the man wrapped his coat about +him. Then the wind gave up and the sun came +out and tried his method of just shining very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +brightly and cheerfully, and presently the man +was so hot he took off his coat.”</p> + +<p>Judy laughed.</p> + +<p>“Meaning, I suppose, that we have been trying +the human gale method instead of the merry +little sunshine way. All right, Molly, dearest, +bring on your Minerva and I’ll be as gentle as +a May morning. But don’t let the Gemini come, +because we could never carry it through if they +were present.”</p> + +<p>It was agreed that the three friends, Molly, +Nance and Judy, should entertain the vain little +freshman at an exclusive party all to themselves. +Other persons were advised to keep away.</p> + +<p>“Hands off,” exclaimed Judy. “Stay away +from our premises this evening, ladies, because +we are going to try an experiment with explosives, +and it might be dangerous.”</p> + +<p>It was unfortunate that, on the very evening +that Minerva Higgins had arranged to go to +the three friends, somebody played a practical +joke on her and she was in an extremely bad +humor. Although she had regained her two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +medals, she was always losing things and crying +her losses up and down the corridor. She usually +found the articles mislaid in her own room, +but she had a suspicious nature and was generally +on the lookout for thefts. That afternoon +she had rushed into the corridor crying:</p> + +<p>“My water pitcher has been stolen from me. +I will not have people going into my room and +taking my things.”</p> + +<p>“As if anybody wanted her old water pitcher,” +remarked Margaret, in a tone of disgust.</p> + +<p>Edith Williams smiled mysteriously.</p> + +<p>Presently Minerva and the matron, much +bored, passed the door.</p> + +<p>“Come on, let’s go and see the fun,” suggested +Edith.</p> + +<p>“How do you know there will be any fun?” +demanded Margaret.</p> + +<p>“There’s likely to be.”</p> + +<p>They strolled slowly up the corridor, and as +they passed the door the matron was saying:</p> + +<p>“Really, Miss Higgins, I must request you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +not to raise any more false alarms like this. +There is your water pitcher.”</p> + +<p>She pointed to the chandelier where the +pitcher had been hoisted on a piece of cord. A +good many other girls had gathered about Minerva’s +door, and a ripple of laughter swept along +the hall.</p> + +<p>“Edith, did you play that joke?” asked Margaret +later.</p> + +<p>“Judy was a party to it, and Katherine and +several others,” answered Edith evasively. “We +thought it high time to put an end to burglar +alarms. Minerva Higgins has come to be a public +nuisance.”</p> + +<p>Margaret smiled. Her dignity would never +allow her to enter into what she called “rowdy +jokes.” However, it did not mar her enjoyment +of the story about them afterward.</p> + +<p>But it was an angry, sullen Minerva who presented +herself at the door of No. 5, Quadrangle, +that evening at eight o’clock. She had left off +her medals and she had not worn the indigo blue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +Judy was relieved at this, but Molly and Nance +considered it a bad sign.</p> + +<p>The first half-hour of the reparation party +dragged slowly.</p> + +<p>“We’ve piped for Minerva and she will not +dance; we’ve mourned for her and she will not +mourn. It’s a hopeless case,” Judy remarked +in an aside to Nance.</p> + +<p>But Molly had formed a resolution and she +was determined to carry it through.</p> + +<p>“Behind that Chinese wall of vanity, Minerva +has a little soul hidden somewhere and I’m going +to reach it to-night if I have to blast with +dynamite,” she thought.</p> + +<p>Nance was stirring fudge on the chafing dish +and Judy was occupying herself strumming +chords on the piano. Molly led Minerva to the +divan and sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>“Are you glad you came to college, Minerva?” +she asked, wondering what in the world to talk +about.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered the other emphatically. “I +detest college. Except that the studies are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +higher, I think Mill Town High School is better +run. I don’t like college girls, either. They are +all conceited snobs.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will like it better when you are +a sophomore and have more liberty,” suggested +Molly. “The first year one can’t look forward +to much pleasure. But a freshman is always under +inspection, you see. If she accepts the situation +without complaining and is nice and obliging +and modest, it’s like so much treasure laid +by for her the next year when she finds how +popular she is with the other girls.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not like that in Mill Town. A freshman +is just as good as anybody else,” snapped +Minerva.</p> + +<p>Judy, overhearing this statement, blinked at +Nance, who smiled furtively and went on stirring +fudge.</p> + +<p>Molly still persisted with the patience of one +who looks for certain success.</p> + +<p>“The most interesting part of being a freshman,” +she continued, “is that a girl begins to find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +out about herself, and by the time she’s a sophomore +she knows what she really wants.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I knew perfectly well what I wanted +before I came,” interrupted Minerva in a lofty +tone, “I want to study the dead languages.”</p> + +<p>“But there is something you want more than +that,” broke in Molly. “You want to be +popular.”</p> + +<p>Minerva gave her a suspicious glance, but +Molly was beaming kindly upon her with all the +warmth of her affectionate nature.</p> + +<p>“How do you know that?” she demanded in +a somewhat softened tone.</p> + +<p>“It was not hard to guess. You said you were +disappointed with the girls here because they +seemed to be snobs. Now if you hadn’t minded +it very much, you never would have mentioned +it. Don’t you think the girls are just a little +afraid of you? You see, they had heard you +were the brightest girl in your school and when +they saw all the medals and you talked to them +on such deep subjects, they were scared off. They +thought, perhaps, you wouldn’t care for them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +because they didn’t know enough. After all, people’s +feeling toward you is just a reflection of +what you feel toward them. If you are interested +and admire and love them, they are pretty +sure to feel the same toward you. You see, I +know you can be just as nice and human and +everyday as the rest of us—” Molly laid her hand +on Minerva’s—“but the others haven’t had a +chance yet to find out.”</p> + +<p>Minerva’s stiff figure relaxed a little and she +leaned against Molly confidingly.</p> + +<p>“I do want to be liked,” she whispered. “All +my life I’ve wanted it more than anything in +the world. But even at Mill Town the girls were +afraid of me, just as you say they are here. I +might as well own up, as you have guessed it +already.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s only a question of time now before +you make lots of friends,” said Molly, “You are +so clever that you’ll find out how to make them +like you.”</p> + +<p>“But how?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Molly, “I think people who are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +sympathetic and who listen more than they talk +generally have a good many friends. I’m afraid +I’ve talked more than I listened this evening,” +she added, pinching Minerva’s cheek.</p> + +<p>“But you’ve talked about me,” answered +Minerva. Suddenly her face turned very red +and her eyes filled with tears. “I shall not wear +the medals any more,” she whispered unsteadily. +“And—there is something I want to confess. +I—I waited for you that night you were on the +lake, and I sent an unsigned note to Miss Walker +the next day to get even with you because you +wouldn’t let me go walking with you.”</p> + +<p>Judy, at the piano, was singing a vociferous +medley, and Nance was joining in.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” whispered Molly. “It was +much better for her to know because we would +have been misrepresented always unless someone +had told her, and we couldn’t exactly tell her +ourselves. But I think it’s awfully nice of you +to confess, Minerva. Now, we shall be better +friends than ever.”</p> + +<p>The two girls kissed each other. The cloak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +of vanity had slipped off and the smartest-girl-in-Mill-Town-High-School +became her real natural +self.</p> + +<p>Until a quarter before ten the four girls +laughed and talked pleasantly together, while the +convivial fudge plate was passed from one to +the other. But never once did Mill Town High +School or comparative philology come into the +conversation.</p> + +<p>When at last the evening was at an end and +Minerva had departed, Nance and Judy led Molly +gravely to the divan.</p> + +<p>“Now, tell us how you did it,” they demanded +in one voice.</p> + +<p>“I only told her the truth,” answered Molly, +“but I didn’t put it so that it would hurt her. I +said the reason why the girls were stand-offish +was because they were afraid of her learning +and her gold medals.”</p> + +<p>“Marvelous, brilliant creature!” cried Judy, +embracing her friend, while Nance laid a cheek +against Molly’s.</p> + +<p>“You are a perfect darling, Molly,” she said.</p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> + +<small>THE JUNIOR GAMBOL.</small></h2> + + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0a">“Hail, Wellington, beloved home!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hail, spot forever dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We greet thy towers and cloisters gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy meadows fresh in spring array;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We greet thee, Wellington, to-day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hills and dales; thy valleys green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy wood and lake—tranquil, serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We greet thee far and near.”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Molly and Judy were responsible for the words +of these stirring lines, which with three other +verses were sung by the junior class to the air +of “Beulah Land,” the music having been +adapted to the words rather than the words to +the music.</p> + +<p>The entire junior class, a long, slender line +of swaying white stretched across the campus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +lifted its voice in praise of Wellington that May +Day morning at the Junior Gambol. In the center +waved the class flag of primrose and lavender. +In the background was the gray pile of +Wellington and in the front stretched the level +close-cut lawn of the campus, fringed by the +crowd of spectators. It was an impressive sight +and when the fresh young voices united in the +class song of “Hail, Wellington!”, Miss Walker +was moved to tears.</p> + +<p>“The dear children!” she exclaimed to Professor +Green at her side, “really I feel all choked +up over their devotion.”</p> + +<p>Winding in and out in an intricate march, the +class moved slowly across the campus until it +reached the sophomores grouped together in one +spot. Here they paused while the President of +the juniors made a speech and presented the +President of the sophomores with a small spade +wreathed in smilax, a symbol of learning, or +rather of the delving for learning which that +class had in prospect in another year. Next the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +juniors approached the seniors and sang one of +the Wellington songs, “Seniors, Farewell.”</p> + +<p>Then the line broke up and moved to the center +of the campus, where stood a May pole. An +orchestra, stationed under one of the trees, began +playing an old English country dance, and +the juniors seized the streamers and tripped in +and out with the graceful dignity suitable to their +new, uplifted position of seniors about-to-be.</p> + +<p>Not one of the Wellington festivals could so +stir her daughters of the present or the past, +now grouped on the edge of the campus, as this +Junior May-Day Gambol.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps it is so sad because it is so beautiful,” +Miss Pomeroy observed to Miss Bowles, +teacher in Higher Mathematics, wiping her eyes +furtively. But Miss Bowles, not being an ex-daughter +of Wellington, and having a taste for +more prosaic and practical pleasures, regarded +the scene with only a polite and tolerant interest.</p> + +<p>“Who is to be the May Queen?” asked Mrs. +McLean, standing in the same group with Miss +Walker and Professor Green.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<p>As each succeeding year brought around the +Junior Gambol the good woman hastened to view +it with undiminished interest.</p> + +<p>“It would be difficult to say,” answered Miss +Walker. “In a class of such unusual individuality +it will be very hard to select one who deserves +it more than another.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a question of popularity more than intelligence,” +observed the Professor. “I think I +might hazard a guess,” he added in a lower tone, +but his voice was drowned in a burst of music. +The juniors were singing an old English glee +song, “To the Cuckoo.”</p> + +<div class="centered"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0b">“‘Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou messenger of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now heaven repairs thy rural seat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woods thy welcome ring.’”<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Many guesses were hazarded regarding the +junior May Queen, not only among the crowds +of spectators, but in the class itself.</p> + +<p>The votes for the Queen were cast by secret +ballot in charge of a committee of three. Wellington<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +traditions required that the name of the +chosen one should be kept in entire secrecy until +the clock in the tower struck noon on May Day. +Then the junior donkey was led forth garlanded +with flowers. He had officiated on this occasion +now for ten years. This was the great moment +when the identity of the most popular girl in the +junior class was established for all time, and it +was an important moment, because the one selected +was generally chosen as Class President +the next year.</p> + +<p>And now, as the tower clock boomed twelve +deep strokes, there was a stirring among the +spectators and a craning of necks. Three juniors +appeared at the end of the campus, leading +the aged donkey, who flicked his tail and walked +gingerly over the turf. He wore a garland of +daffodils and lilacs and moved sedately along, +mindful of the importance of his position.</p> + +<p>The three girls were Nance Oldham, Caroline +Brinton and Edith Williams. One of them carried +a wreath of narcissus and the other two +held the ribbon reins of the donkey.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> + +<p>According to the time-honored rule, they approached +their classmates with grave, still faces. +It was really a solemn moment and the juniors +waiting in an unbroken line never moved nor +smiled.</p> + +<p>The spectators held their breath and for a moment +Wellington was so still that every human +thing in it might have been turned to stone.</p> + +<p>Why was it so exciting, this choosing of the +May Queen?</p> + +<p>No one could tell, and yet it was always the +same. Even Miss Bowles felt a lump rise in +her throat. Many of the alumnæ shamelessly +wept, and Professor Green, watching the three +white figures move slowly in front of the line of +juniors, wondered if no one else could hear the +pounding of his pulses.</p> + +<p>Presently the committee came to a stop. The +Professor thrust his hands into his pockets and +drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>Nance stepped forward and placed the wreath +on somebody’s head. The spectators could see +that she was quite tall and slender, and that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +shrank back with surprise and shyness as she was +led forth and bidden to mount the donkey, which +she did with perfect ease and grace, as one who +has mounted horses all her life.</p> + +<p>“Who is it?” cried a dozen voices. “They look +so much alike.”</p> + +<p>Scores of opera glasses and field glasses were +raised.</p> + +<p>“It’s Molly Brown, of course,” cried a girl.</p> + +<p>The Professor smiled happily.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he repeated, thrusting his hands +deeper into his pockets.</p> + +<p>And now the ban of silence was lifted. The +orchestra played; the audience cheered and the +three classes gave their particular yells in turn, +while the juniors, marching two by two, followed +Molly Brown, riding the donkey, around the entire +circuit of the campus.</p> + +<p>As for Molly Brown, she hung her head and +blushed, looking neither to the right nor to the +left.</p> + +<p>“The sweet lass, she might be a bride, she is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +so shy!” ejaculated Mrs. McLean as the procession +moved slowly by.</p> + +<p>“Hurrah for Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky!” +yelled a group of Exmoor students.</p> + +<p>“‘Here’s to Molly Brown, drink her down,’” +sang the entire student body of Wellington.</p> + +<p>It was a thing that happened every year and +there were those who had seen it thirty times +or more, and still the spectacle was ever new.</p> + +<p>“I think I must be dreaming,” Molly was saying +to herself. “Of course, I might have known +Nance and Judy would have voted for me and +perhaps one or two others,—but so many—and +what have I done to deserve it? I have hardly +seen anything of Caroline Brinton and her +crowd. ‘Oh Lord, make me thankful for these +and all thy mercies,’” she added, repeating the +family grace, which somehow seemed appropriate +to this stirring moment.</p> + +<p>After the triumphal march, Molly with the +class officers, flanked by the rest of the class, held +an informal reception on the lawn. This was +followed by the Junior Lunch, quite an elaborate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +affair, served in the gymnasium, decorated for +the occasion by the sophomores.</p> + +<p>Lawrence Upton was Molly’s guest for the +day. Many of the girls had asked Exmoor students, +but Nance had been visited with a disappointment +that was too amusing to be annoying.</p> + +<p>Otoyo Sen, on the sophomore committee for +decorating the gymnasium, and therefore entitled +to ask a guest, had not let the grass grow under +her little feet one instant. The moment the committee +had been selected, she sent off a formal, +polite note to Andy McLean, 2nd, inviting him +to be her guest.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Nance, that’s one on you,” cried Judy, +when she heard this bit of news. “You always +thought Andy was so much your property that +no one would ever think of treading on your preserves. +It’s just like Japan, creeping quietly in +and taking possession.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose Andy will be hurt because I didn’t +get there first,” replied Nance, laughing good-naturedly. +“I suppose I shall have to ask Louis +Allen, but I don’t think it will do Andy any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +harm to know there are other fishes in the sea.”</p> + +<p>“I guess it won’t,” answered Judy. “Nance +is learning a thing or two,” she added to herself.</p> + +<p>But all’s fair in love and war, and there was +no more charming figure on the campus that day +than little Otoyo in a pink organdy and a large +hat trimmed with pink roses. On her face was +an expression of shy, discreet triumph as of one +who has gained a victory by stratagem.</p> + +<p>The Junior Gambol came to an end at six that +evening, and the tired students repaired to their +rooms to rest and relax after eight hours of +continuous entertaining. The eight friends of +old Queen’s days had gathered in No. 5 of the +Quadrangle, where refreshments were being +handed around, chiefly lemonade and hickory-nut +cake. Eight limp young women in dressing-gowns +draped themselves about the divans and +in the arm chairs to discuss the joys of the day.</p> + +<p>Molly, at the window, was reading something +written on a card tied to the stem of an exceedingly +large yellow apple. It was Professor Edwin +Green’s card, and the inscription thereon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +read: “The first of the three golden apples was +won to-day. Congratulations and best wishes.”</p> + +<p>Untying the card, she slipped it into her portfolio.</p> + +<p>“Shall I divide it or eat it alone?” she asked +herself, and, without waiting for the second +voice to answer, she seized Judy’s silver knife +and divided the apple into eight sections, which +she passed around the company.</p> + +<p>“Did this come from the Garden of Hesperides, +Molly?” asked Edith Williams, always ready +with her classic allusions.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if it did,” answered +Molly, smiling mysteriously.</p> + +<p>There was much to talk about that evening. +It was the moment for reminiscences and they +reviewed the past year with all its excitements +and pleasures. When Millicent Porter had departed +from Wellington in dishonorable flight, +her place in the Shakespeareans had been immediately +filled, and Judy Kean was the girl selected; +which goes to show that after a good +deal of suffering and when the edge is taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +off the appetite, we generally get what we once +earnestly desired. Judy was not excited over +the honor paid her, but she acquitted herself +creditably in the beautiful performance of “A +Winter’s Tale,” which the society eventually produced.</p> + +<p>She sat on the floor now, leaning against +Molly, whom, next to her father and mother, +she loved best in all the world. Without realizing +it herself, Judy’s character had been wonderfully +developed and strengthened by the events +of that winter and she looked on the world with +a new and broader vision.</p> + +<p>It was nearly bedtime; the night was warm +and still and through the open windows came +the sound of singing. The girls were silent for +a while, too weary to make any more conversation.</p> + +<p>“And next year we’ll be hoary old seniors,” +suddenly announced Judy, following up a train +of thought.</p> + +<p>Several in the company sighed audibly. Already +the thought of parting from each other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +and from their beloved Wellington cast a shadow +before it.</p> + +<p>But this sorrowful last year was to be filled +with interest and happy times, as you will see +who read the next volume of this series, entitled +“<span class="smcap">Molly Brown’s Senior Days</span>.”</p> + + +<p> </p> +<hr class="l1"/> +<p> </p> + +<div class="tnote"> +<p><b>Transcriber’s note:</b></p> +<p>Besides some minor printer’s errors the following +corrections have been made: on page 265 and 269 “Madeleine” has been +changed to “Millicent” (<a href="#helped">helped Millicent with the remainder</a>) (<a href="#leaving">leaving +Millicent still in the window seat</a>). Otherwise the original has been +preserved, including inconsistent spelling and hyphenation. Additional: +“Rosomond Chase” was called “Rosamond” in the first book of this series, +“Molly Brown’s Freshman Year.”</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOLLY BROWN'S JUNIOR DAYS***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 36717-h.txt or 36717-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/7/1/36717">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/7/1/36717</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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