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Title: Janet's college career

Author: Amy Ella Blanchard

Release date: July 11, 2024 [eBook #74012]

Language: English

Original publication: Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & Co


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANET'S COLLEGE CAREER ***

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.

[Illustration: "WHEW! I DIDN'T KNOW FEATHER BEDS WERE SO HEAVY."]



                       Janet's College Career


                                By

                         AMY E. BLANCHARD

                  Author of "Two Maryland Girls,"
                    "Thy Friend Dorothy," etc.



                          [Illustration]



                          PHILADELPHIA
                      GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.
                           PUBLISHERS



                       Copyright, 1904, by
                   George W. Jacobs & Company
                    Published September, 1904



                             Contents

                              —————


CHAPTER

     I. PREPARATIONS

    II. POOR FRESH

   III. FRATERNITY GIRLS

    IV. THE INITIATION

     V. THE FINALS

    VI. IN THE GYM

   VII. THE THANKSGIVING BOX

  VIII. OFF THE TRACK

    IX. CARAMELS AND A CAT

     X. THE HERO

    XI. PRETTY POLLY PERKINS

   XII. A STUDIO TEA

  XIII. WHAT POLLY WORE

   XIV. DRAMATICS

    XV. ONE SUNDAY MORNING

   XVI. CRUSHED ILLUSIONS

  XVII. SNOWDRIFTS

 XVIII. A STOLEN FEAST

   XIX. FIELD DAY

    XX. PARTINGS



                           Illustrations

                              —————

  "Whew! I didn't know feather beds were so heavy." Frontispiece

  "Insane, evidently insane," said the elderly man.

  "I should like to keep you, baby kitty."

  "That wasn't meant for the public to see," she said.

  She caught the ribbons and cut them through.



                       Janet's College Career

CHAPTER I

PREPARATIONS

JANET stood at her window thoughtfully tapping her lips with her
forefinger. The window looked out upon the bay, but Janet was not
observant of the white sails melting into the horizon, nor of the line
of misty shore opposite. She was not unperceptive; in fact she rather
prided herself upon her love of the beautiful, but just now she was
absorbed in a problem which was one of the many that had confronted her
during the past few weeks. The day before, she had successfully settled
the question of a portiere and a couch cover by suddenly remembering
the two home-made spreads woven by her great-grandmother, which, in
their unfaded glory of blue and red, lay for years packed away in a
chest in the attic. Janet would never in the world have considered them
if she had not sat behind Martha Summers the last time she went up to
the city. Martha was never chary of her information, and had discoursed
at length, in such tones as must be overheard, upon the beauties of
an apartment just furnished by a newly-married friend of undoubted
position and wealth.

"The sweetest thing you ever saw, my dear, so artistic and so unique.
The dearest cozy corner, and the loveliest little library, and what do
you suppose she has put up as a portiere? The quaintest old spread of
her grandmother's, one of those worsted things, you know, all red and
blue. She has two of them as heirlooms. Yes, really. One can't buy an
heirloom, you see, and she has one between her sitting room and bedroom
and another on a divan. I declare they look too sweet for anything. I
am wild for some."

Having listened to all this, Janet could triumphantly drag forth the
heavy spreads, and, after airing them, could have them packed away with
the other belongings which were to go with her to her rooms at college.

"Even if I should rip open every pillow in the house, and take a
handful of feathers out of each, it wouldn't be enough," she told
herself. "Dear me, I never foresaw so many expenses." She opened a
letter which she held, and scanned its contents.

"We'll simply have to have a lot of pillows for our divan, and some
sort of cover, and we must have a portiere to hang between the two
rooms. You can furnish those, Janet, and I will promise a chafing-dish
and a samovar, a lamp, and a lot of pictures and ornaments," so the
letter ran. Janet folded it with an air of finality.

"There is no use," she said. "I will simply have to do it when Ted
takes all those expensive things, though, for that matter, feathers are
expensive. Dear me, I'll have to bother mother again, and I told myself
I wouldn't. She has all she can do to get my clothes ready. I will just
put the case before her and see what she says. She is such a dear, and
was so pleased about those spreads, though they were hers and not mine."

She ran from the room and went singing along the hall. "What is home
without a mother?" she carolled in her clear young voice as she opened
the door of the room where her mother and a seamstress were hard at
work.

"Momsey, dear," she began, "there is one more thing, just one more I
promise you. Ted says we've got to have sofa pillows. I suppose we
could have a few made of excelsior, but it would be too cheap and
common to have them all stuffed with that, but I don't know where in
the world we are to get feathers unless we have goose for dinner every
day till it's time for me to go."

"And what good would that do?" asked her mother. "As if you could use
green feathers."

"Oh, dear, I never thought of that; they would have to be cured first,
wouldn't they?" Janet sat down on a low chair and gazed absently at the
pile of gingham breadths upon the floor beside her.

The seamstress, a thin flat-faced person with wisps of dun-colored hair
sticking out from the careless twist at the back of her head, stopped
to bite off her basting thread before she said: "The sleeves are all
ready for the machine, Miss Janet. Will you take them?"

"Oh, I suppose so, Miss Rosy, though pillows are on my mind at present,
and I may not stitch these evenly. If any one were to ask me just now
which weighed the most, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead, I
should say feathers; they weigh me down heavily enough."

Miss Roxy paused in her swift movements, needle in mid-air. "Your Aunt
Minerva Gilpin has two or three feather beds," she said.

"But I don't want feather beds, you see," said Janet, turning half-way
around and stopping the busy wheel of the machine. "It is pillows I
want."

"There'd be enough in one of her beds to make all the pillows you'd
want for a month of Sundays," returned Miss Roxy. "It's a job to be
sure, but everybody except the old-fashioned folks like Miss Minerva is
using up their feather beds that way. I've made over at least a dozen
this last year."

"Then you could make over one for me, couldn't you? Good! I'll descend
upon Aunt Minerva this very afternoon. It's the least she can do for
the credit of the family to present me with a feather bed. I'll have
to skirmish around for covers though. Here, Miss Roxy, take these; my
interest in gingham frocks has completely vanished, and I am going to
hunt through the piece bags for possible pillow covers."

She dropped the sleeves into Miss Roxy's lap and went gaily from the
room to pull over the bags in the attic and to come down half an hour
later with pieces bright and dull which might be converted into covers
for her sofa pillows.

"There," she cried, throwing them down on the floor in a heap, "I think
these will be enough. However will I get them all packed, mother?"

"The easiest way will be to put them in a barrel."

"And they'll think I am going to set up a grocery shop. Oh, me!" She
clasped her knees, and looked off dreamily.

"Come, come, child," chided her mother, when five minutes had passed,
"you'll never get ready if you sit there dreaming the time away. If you
expect this sewing to get done you will have to lend a hand."

"Yes, and there are those pillows," put in Miss Roxy. "That will be
no small job, I tell you. I got so sick of the last that I made up my
mind I'd do no more for anybody, and I wouldn't do it for another soul,
for it certainly does make a mess about, and you feel as if you were
breathing feathers for a week afterward."

"Dear me," said Janet, jumping up and attacking the breadths of
gingham, "I am afraid I am a lot of bother, but one goes to college
only once in a lifetime and it is really more important than getting
married, for one can marry more than once, and one doesn't go to
college so often. How do these gores go, Miss Roxy? I'll be good,
mother, and work hard, for it is a shame to keep you cooped up here.
I hope I haven't made a mistake in taking Edna for a roommate, for it
seems to me my very modest array of necessities are mounting up into a
tremendous list of requirements. The sofa pillows are the last straw."

"Are you going to make them of straw?" inquired Janet's small brother,
Dicky, putting his head into the room. "I know where to get some."

"Of course not, silly," said Janet. "What are you doing here, anyhow? I
told you to keep out of the way and not bother mother."

"I don't have to," replied Dicky. "I've as much right to my mother as
you have. Say, momsey, I've torn a hole in my trousers, and I can't go
to town till they are mended unless I put on my best ones."

"Oh dear, Dicky, you are such a destructive child," Janet remarked. "It
is a shame when mother is so busy to give her anything extra to do."

"Well, I'd like to know who it is that is keeping her busy. She's been
sewing for you all week. If you're so particular, I'll bring them to
you and you can mend them yourself."

Janet looked decidedly put out. "I'll do no such thing. When I am so up
to my eyes in work I think it is very inconsiderate in you to say such
things. Why you have to go to town anyhow, I don't see. Hooker can get
the mail and do any errands that are necessary."

Dicky made a face at her and began to joggle the back of his mother's
chair so that its occupant in self-defense said: "Oh, Janet, do let him
go. I'd rather mend the trousers ten times over than have him around
here bothering everybody. Go get them, Dicky, and put on your old ones
till these are mended."

Dicky scrambled from the room in tumultuous boy fashion, returning in a
moment with the unlucky trousers which were speedily mended and he was
sent off forthwith.

"I wish I had gone, too," said Janet after watching the light wagon
disappear down the lane. "I might have stopped at Aunt Minerva's and
have had them pick me up on the way back. Never mind, I'll get this
done and go there this afternoon."

She worked away with a will, saying little for the next hour. Her
thoughts were busy with the future, for these were exciting times
for Janet Ferguson. She had been prepared for college at a small
boarding-school where life had not offered many sensations. One of her
fellow students, who had been graduated at the same time as herself,
was to enter college with her and would be her roommate. Edna Waite's
circle of friends included a number who were college girls and these
she had considered her authority in all matters. In consequence,
every few days she dashed off a letter to Janet with some new item of
information, and with some necessity added to the list which at first
had seemed a sufficiently long one.

So now Janet was beginning to feel that the burden of her preparations
would soon threaten to swallow up not only her every moment, but every
penny which the resources of the family could furnish. Janet was also
beginning to have misgivings. If difficulties arose thus early in her
career what would happen later when all sorts of unexpected expenses
might drain her pocketbook to the last penny of her allowance, for Edna
discoursed at length upon the various directions in which, as college
girls, they would be expected to make a showing.

She looked so serious, as she pulled out the basting threads from the
hem of one of her frocks, that her mother said, in the absence of Miss
Roxy in the kitchen: "Not homesick already, Janet?"

The girl smiled. "No, momsey, not that; I was only wondering if I
should find it hard to get through on my allowance."

"You thought it ample when your father suggested it."

"Yes, I know, but Edna keeps adding some new expense to the list till I
get fairly swamped in trying to figure it all out."

"Well, my dear, perhaps you will find that you will do better to
establish your own standard rather than to accept Edna's. You will not
have to do as any special girl prefers to do, but as you find all the
girls must do. If you find there is really no need of every expenditure
which Edna thinks necessary, simply lop that off, and go without it."

Janet did not reply, for experience at boarding-school had taught
her that this was an easier proceeding in theory than in practice.
However, her spirits were of an elastic quality, and she did not allow
forebodings to trouble her long, and when she came back that afternoon
from her Aunt Minerva's, a feather bed stuffed in behind her in the
buggy, she was in such a state of hilarity that she could hardly manage
her new possession.

"Dicky," she called. "Dick, come help me. This is the most elusive
thing I ever got hold of. It is so yielding that when I pull it in one
direction it heaves up in a great billow in the other. It is the most
resistless thing for anything so seemingly responsive that I ever saw."

Seeing fun ahead, Dicky answered her call, and while she pushed, he
pulled, till finally the feather bed rolled out and buried Dick under
its unwieldy bulk.

The boy emerged laughing. "Whew!" he cried. "I didn't know feather beds
were so heavy."

"It is over forty pounds' weight, Aunt Minerva was careful to tell me,
and if I hadn't interrupted her, I think she would have informed me
that feathers were—I don't know how much—a pound. But I was so voluble
in my thanks, and so appreciative that she couldn't get a word in
edgewise. Dicky, do you suppose we shall ever be able to get this into
the house? Did you ever see anything act so? Just as if it were trying
on purpose to get away from us. There, that's it—"

As Dicky gave a mighty tug and moved the bed a few feet, but the next
minute, he lost his purchase and fell sprawling into its midst, amid
shouts of laughter.

"We'll have to leave it," said Janet, with a long drawn sigh, plumping
herself down by Dicky. "We'll wait till Stuart comes home and he will
help us. Let's leave it, Dicky. I'm quite worn out with tugging. You
can drive Dolly around to the stable and this can stay right here. Let
us hope that no strangers will call this afternoon to see the family
feather bed airing on the front porch. There are some advantages in
living a distance from town; one can be independent."

She watched Dicky drive away with the buggy, but retained her seat in
the middle of the feathers, till suddenly remembering that time was
short, she sprang up and ran to the room where her mother and Miss Roxy
still sat.

"I've got it," she exclaimed.

"Got what?" asked her mother.

"The feather bed. A great big fat one. It's down on the front porch.
Where do you want it, Miss Roxy?"

"If it doesn't rain, it may as well stay where it is. I can begin on
the pillows in the morning. I hope you remembered to get some new
ticking."

"Yes, I did; a whole lot. I left it under the seat of the buggy, but
I'll get it. How are you going to trim that waist, Miss Roxy?"

"With this lace." The seamstress laid strips of the trimming on the
material and noted the effect with appreciative eye.

"Feather beds are very much like some people," said Janet, watching
Miss Roxy's deft fingers.

"How do you make that out?" asked the needlewoman.

"Oh, they are lumpy and heavy and soft, and you think you can manage
them till you try, and then you find they are so obstinate that you
can't budge them, and if you insist on having them do your way, the
first thing you know you are completely overwhelmed."

Miss Roxy laughed. "I reckon you are thinking of your Aunt Minerva. Was
she hard to move?"

"No, she really wasn't to-day. You read my simile at once, didn't you,
Miss Roxy? She is feather-beddy at times, but to-day she happened to be
very amiable. I think my practical use of her feather bed appealed to
her, though she didn't see how I could want such a raft of pillows,"
she said. "You are ready to have me try that on?"

She stood up while the seamstress, with her mouth bristling with pins,
snipped here and pinched in there, till Janet sighed from the enforced
position of standing still.

"Just the skirt measure now," said Miss Roxy. "Forty-two, no, I think
we'd better say forty-three, Mrs. Ferguson." Miss Roxy looked up from
her kneeling posture. "She's grown an inch, I do believe." She measured
Janet's slim form, running her fingers along the tape measure. "Now you
may go. I'm through with you for to-day. Suppose you get that ticking
and measure off the pillows the size you want them, and stitch them up,
so I can get to work at them first thing in the morning."

Janet obeyed and was soon clacking away at the machine, her cheek
glowing and her soft hair curling around the nape of her neck as she
grew warm from the exercise. "These are strenuous times," she remarked
as she tossed the last square of ticking on a chair. "I will leave the
covers till to-morrow. In a week—a week, momsey, I shall be ready to
go. Please stop now. You've been driving ahead all day. I should think
you would be thankful to see the last of me, for it means a little more
rest for you. Now Stuart doesn't need half this fussing over. He gets
his clothes at his tailor's, you see that his stockings have no holes
in them, and there he is, while I am an eternal nuisance. Here, put
that away. You'll go till you drop, and you won't drop till I go—that's
a queer sort of sentence—anyhow, I'd rather go without that shirtwaist
than have you make another buttonhole this day. Come, I want to talk to
you."

She drew her mother from her chair and led her down to the porch where
the feather bed still lay. "Let's turn our backs on fussinesses and go
out to see if there are any peaches ripe on that tree by the hen-house.
You know we always liked those better than any. Oh, dear momsey, it's
going to be a long pull, isn't it? Four years of it before I can come
home to stay. There'll be the holidays, though, and maybe I shall not
be so very homesick between whiles. It will be fine to have Stuart
within a couple of hours' ride of me. That counts for a great deal,
doesn't it? I don't believe I could stand being so many miles away from
everybody. It was very different at Oak Hill, where I could come home
every Friday, for no matter how badly things went, there were always
the Friday afternoons to think of, and by training oneself, it could be
made to seem near even on Mondays."

She kept her arm around her mother's waist as she led her down the
garden walk and through a little gate to the hen-house. There she
released her hold and climbed on top of the building, feeling among
the leaves for a ripe peach. "The best ones are always on top," she
remarked. "Here are two beauties. Take them, mother." She crouched on
the roof and held out the downy fruit, then clambered easily to the
ground demanding her share of the spoils.

"It's a wonder Dicky didn't get them," she said, "but they were a
little beyond his reach. Now come, let us go somewhere by ourselves
and enjoy them like two nice complacent greedy-gluts. Don't you love
to be that once in a while? One gets so tired of virtuously sharing
all the good things, and I think it is really a necessary part of our
development to indulge our appetites sometimes to the exclusion of our
friends."

"That is a very Epicurean philosophy," returned her mother.

"Perhaps, but one should test all philosophies before settling down
on any special one. Now, I know if you had your way, you'd save both
of these peaches and give one to—let's see—Miss Roxy, and the other
to father. I am just reveling in your not doing it. We will gorge
ourselves and be wicked and selfish for once."

"On one peach apiece?" laughed her mother.

"Never mind, it is the principle of the thing which I am encouraging.
If you do this to-day, maybe in time you will be shutting yourself up
in the pantry and gobbling down all those delicious conserves you are
so choice with. I'd love to think of your doing that while I am at
college."

"Janet, you ridiculous child, what utter nonsense you do talk," said
her mother. "One would suppose I lived the life of an anchorite and
never allowed myself any luxuries."

"I know that it isn't exactly that way, but you are so exactly like the
person who said somebody had to eat the drumsticks. You like white meat
but you always refuse it, if you think any one else would like it. Dear
oh me, I wonder if I shall ever develop such a self-sacrificing spirit.
It doesn't look like it now, does it?"

"Appearances are sometimes deceitful," returned her mother with a smile.

"So cautious? Well, I don't deserve much encouragement yet, I admit.
Finished your peach? Then I suppose we shall have to go in."

Another week saw Janet departing, her pillows stowed into a barrel and
her trunks stuffed to overflowing with the paraphernalia which she had
decided to take with her for her first year at college. Everything
appeared very smart and sufficient, and she drove away complacently,
feeling that there were no wants unfilled. She was also not ill pleased
with herself, and felt the importance which is generally a part of a
student's equipment when he or she first enters college. There came a
rush of emotion when she bade her mother good-bye, but there were too
many novel experiences facing her for her to remain long in a depressed
or regretful mood, and she arrived in a tremor of excitement, a little
shy, a little happy, wholly expectant.



CHAPTER II

POOR FRESH

JANET and her roommate viewed their room with much satisfaction after
they had completed the arranging of their furnishings. Especially did
Janet congratulate herself upon the lordly array of pillows which were
disposed not only upon the divan but upon the floor. She felt in this
direction that she had exceeded Edna's expectations, and the glow of
conscious pride warmed her so that she could graciously credit Edna
with having provided generously in the matter of ornament.

She stood with her head to one side viewing the "drapes" upon Edna's
Morris chair, when some one banged on the door and, scarcely waiting
for the "Come in" which followed the knock, entered with half a dozen
girls attending.

"Oh, Janet!" cried the leader of the troop. "We've come to warn you to
look out to-night; the sophs are after us. They are coming to-night for
sure. Charity Shepherd overheard two of them saying something which
gave her an inkling, so every one of us must lock her door early, and
be on her guard. They caught Grace Breitner, and she won't tell what
they did to her. She only laughs when we ask her."

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Edna Waite, "can't we keep them away, Cordelia?"

Cordelia Lodge, a bright-looking girl, with a way of squinting up her
eyes when she laughed, smiled as she turned to the girl behind her. "Do
you hear that, Lee? Can we keep them away?"

"We can try," replied Lee coming forward, "but the sophs are as
inflexible as fate once they determine on a thing, and it's mighty hard
to evade them."

"Well," remarked Janet, "we can do one thing; we can make it hot for
them. I know what I shall do."

"What, Janet? Do tell!" said a chorus of voices.

But Janet shook her head. "No, I think it is up to each one of us
to work out her own escape. We may look our doors, but if they are
determined to get in, they may find a way of doing it, so the best
thing for us to do is to prepare for their reception."

The girls looked at each other. "We'll prepare," they exclaimed.

"Come on, girls," cried Cordelia, "each to her lair, and a murrain on
whoever backs out in her preparations."

"What do you intend to do?" asked Edna as the troop left, and Janet
grabbed her hat pinning it upon her dark locks.

"I'm going to the drug store."

"What for?"

"I'll tell you when I come back." She was half-way down the corridor
before Edna could ask another question.

And when she returned, she bore a roll of something and several small
packages.

"What have you there?" asked Edna, all curiosity.

"This," said Janet unrolling her long package, "is
fly-paper—tanglefoot, I believe it is called—warranted to catch the
unwary. It is usually placed in infested places for the purpose of
trapping intruders. A piece of this upon the window-sill over there,
another on the floor in front of the door, wouldn't come amiss."

"But we are not troubled with flies, Janet. They surely are not a pest
at this time of year. Gracious! I didn't know you were so particular."

Janet gave her a pitying glance. "Edna Waite, where is your
perspicuity? I am not preparing for the common house-fly, the musca
domestica, but for that variety known as the soph."

"Oh!" Edna's laugh showed that she understood. "What a scheme!"

"Before we go to bed," said Janet, "we shall complete our arrangements.
In this small tin box is mustard. Did it ever occur to you that an
adhesive mustard plaster would be a good thing? When one must have a
mustard plaster, it might be well to manufacture a kind that cannot
come off. I may get out a patent for this. Hand me the mucilage,
please, and the scissors. This muslin is for the plasters, so is
the mucilage, so is the mustard. You cut them this size; you spread
them first with mucilage, and then you sprinkle them with mustard.
I had thought of red pepper, but my humanity forbade my using that.
There, these placed at judicious distances may be of use in case of
an onslaught. Beware, Teddy, that you don't get up in the night and
stumble into the pit we have digged for others."

"Dear me, I certainly will be careful. Oh, Janet, I almost hope they
will come; it would be such fun to see them caught."

"I almost wish it myself," she replied, and when they had retired for
the night, it was with much satisfaction that Janet thought of her
traps.

About midnight, she awoke with a start. There was a noise outside her
door. "What's that?" she exclaimed in a startled whisper. Then she
realized what it probably was, and she called softly, "Teddy, Teddy."

"What?" came sleepily from the next room.

"Get up. No, don't. They are coming. Keep perfectly still and don't let
yourself be seen unless I call you."

Edna, awaking to a realizing sense of the situation, did as she was
bid, and kept as still as possible. Janet lay quietly and listened.
Presently there was a scrambling at the transom, then by means of the
electric light outside Janet saw a head and shoulders appear. She
chuckled to herself as some one dropped lightly to the floor. There was
a little suppressed squeal and a sound of some one groping about.

"What's the matter?" came a voice from the outside.

"Nothing," was the answer. "I'll open the door directly, if I can find
the key."

Janet hid her laughing face in her pillow. It was a nice precaution not
to leave the key in the door, for there would be further difficulties
before it would be possible to find it. She made no sound, but waited
further developments.

There was a further sound of stealthy footsteps in the room, and after
a time an exclamation of "Gracious!"

Still Janet gave no sign of being awake. At last, however, the intruder
reached the gas, and struck a light. Janet peeped at her from between
nearly closed lids, saw her tear a sticky mass from one hand, and
others from each foot, then, picking her way across the room, avoiding
the bits of fly-paper laid in her way, she reached the bed, gave a
spring and alighted fairly upon Janet.

"Here," she cried, "wake up. You must be one of the Seven Sleepers.
Where is the key to the door?"

Janet opened her eyes drowsily, stretched her arms, and said, "Get off
my chest, nightmare. I ate no mince-pie last night."

The girl snickered, but immediately assumed a severe manner. "Get up
and get me that key," she said.

"What for?" asked Janet.

"So I can get out."

"I don't care whether you get out or not," returned Janet, "so long as
you get off—my chest."

The girl perched there sat looking about the room. She was a tiny
thing, with fluffy light hair about her elfish little face. "What's the
sticky stuff all about here for?" she asked.

"Oh," replied Janet, "it's to catch flies—and things."

The girl drew down her mouth. "I'll not have you alluding to me as a
thing, you Miss Fresh. Get up and get me that key, or I'll find a way
to make you."

"Find it then!" returned Janet.

There came a tap at the door. "What's the matter, Fay?" asked a voice.
"Why don't you come?"

"I'm coming," responded Fay. "Don't get impatient."

She looked at Janet, who grinned in response.

"I'm not going to be outdone by any poor fresh," said Fay. "You're
entirely too smart. I am going to have that key."

She suddenly sprang from the bed, and before Janet could be aware of
her intention, she had darted to the window-sill and returning, with
one of Janet's own plasters, slapped it viciously upon her forehead.
"There," she exclaimed, "you tell me where that key is."

In vain, Janet tried to free her hands to get at the plaster; she was
at a disadvantage, for she was lying down with some one holding her and
pressing her arms tightly to her sides. She bore herself bravely for a
few minutes; then the mustard began to burn, and she called for help.

"Teddy, Teddy," she cried, "come take this thing off. A nightmare has
possession of me."

Teddy came running to the rescue, but once, on the way, imprudently
stepped on a bit of the fly-paper. She tore it off, and reached the
bed where Janet, now really suffering from the mustard, was trying to
struggle from her captor's grasp.

"Take it off, Teddy, quick," she cried; "the mustard is burning
horribly."

Edna managed to remove the plaster which had stuck exceedingly fast and
was not easy to get off, and then she threw herself upon the uninvited
visitor who now met her Waterloo, for Janet, thus reinforced, was able
to free herself and together she and Edna bound the hapless Fay and
laid her upon her back on the bed.

Those outside were becoming more anxious. "Aren't you ever coming,
Fay?" they asked.

"No, she isn't," replied Janet triumphantly. "We are going to keep her
for company. She is so cunning, we are perfectly fascinated with her.
She reminds us of our baby dolls. Go away like good girls, for you
can't get in and she can't get out."

"Oh, won't I pay you back for this," said Fay, indignant that a
sophomore should be thus worsted by her natural prey.

"Will you?" asked Janet pleasantly. "Now why should you want to pay
us back for not allowing our room to be broken into? What do they
call such a performance? I know it is some sort of crime. We will not
prosecute you though, and you can tell those girls outside that you'll
not go home till morning, till daylight doth appear. There is no use
for them to wait."

Fay reluctantly notified her friends of her failure to carry out their
plan, and they went off. It had been rather a trying experience for
Fay, for in nearly every room, she had found some sort of trap set.
Being the smallest and lightest in her class, as well as the cleverest
in gymnastic feats, she had been chosen to defy locked doors and to
climb over the transoms; then, before the occupants could be aware of
her presence, to unlock the door from the inside and admit the waiting
sophomores.

In one room, she had dropped directly into a tub of cold water when
she let herself down from above; in another a pitfall in the shape of
a long cord stretched from side to side of the room caused her to trip
and fall; in a third there was such a barricade of chairs, tables and
other furniture, that there was no getting behind the defense, and she
was obliged to retreat. But only in the rooms occupied by Janet and
Edna did she find the key gone from the door, and so she was lost. On
the outside, she had been boosted up by her friends, and in this last
instance, if she had been wise, she would have retreated by means of
such help as a chair would furnish, and could have made her escape; but
she was a little too venturesome, and was detained, in spite of all her
prayers, till morning.

When Janet appeared the next day with a crimson blotch across her
forehead, the only answer she made to the solicitous questions put to
her was "Nightmare," but there was a general understanding that the
freshmen had worsted the sophomores in this first attack.

The sophomores did not forget, however. They bided their time, and,
like Brer Rabbit, they "lay low" till suspicions should be allayed, and
then one triumphant night, they descended upon their sleeping victims.
Fay having cleverly stolen the key of the room Janet occupied, was able
to rush in with no fear of being unable to get out again. Behind her
came a body of victorious sophs guarding half a dozen freshmen whom
they had dragged from their beds.

"Shut the door, Fay," said the leader, Juliet Fuller; "we'll settle the
business where you tell me the most rebellious of the class hold forth.
You'll have to get up, Miss Ferguson; we can't allow you to entertain
us in bed. You haven't a mustard plaster handy, have you, and what
became of the fly-paper?"

"Oh, I suppose Fay Wingate carried it all off on her feet," returned
Janet with an air of innocence.

Juliet frowned. "No base insinuations, if you please. What's in that
jar? Candied ginger, as I live. Much better than mustard. Bring it
here, Fay."

And Janet had the mortification of seeing her treasured ginger gobbled
up before her eyes.

"Having refreshed ourselves through your generosity," remarked Juliet,
"we will provide a little entertainment for the assembled company.
First on the programme is Miss Charity Shepherd, who will give us
an example of Yankee dialect. Miss Shepherd is remarkably clever in
having preserved the exact intonation, and pronunciation, as you will
presently hear. Step out, Miss Shepherd, and don't be afraid."

As Charity's accent was unmistakable, every one tittered.

Juliet selected a slip from several she held in her hand. "You are
requested to give this selection, Miss Shepherd," she said, handing the
paper to Charity. "Stand up if you please, and speak out clearly."

Deciding that discretion would be the better part of valor, Charity
amiably complied, and read as follows, exactly as Juliet had foreseen
that she would: "Take your caad and go to the caa where you will find
the staatah whom you will know by the staa he wears. He will tell you
the way to Haavahd. If there is doo on the grass, do not go that way,
but consider it your dooty to take the other path to the institootion."

"Lovely," exclaimed Juliet as a titter ran around the room. "You may
sit down, Miss Shepherd, and we will next hear from the lady from
Philadelphia." She looked toward another of the girls who bit her lip,
but did not respond. "You are from Philadelphia, aren't you, Miss Cox?"
asked Juliet suavely.

"Yes," was the answer.

"And you live somewhere near North Broad Street, don't you?"

Adelaide Cox nodded.

"And your name is—?"

"Auddie Cox."

"To be sure. It would have to be Auddie, young ladies. Well, Miss Cox,
you will not refuse to help us out in our little entertainment. With
such men as John Wanamaker and George W. Childs as examples of public
benefactors, you cannot refuse to help the cause of humanity. Will you
not read these few lines as they do it in Philadelphia?" She handed her
a paper, typewritten, which Addie took, blushed, but made no attempt to
read.

"You must, you know," said Juliet mildly.

"You'd better," whispered Janet, who sat near the victim.

And Addie read: "One doy in Moy, I went daown taown, and while I was
trying to open a hayumper, I cut me hayund with a hayutchet. I heard
some one soy it wasn't the woy to do it."

"Delicious!" exclaimed Juliet. "I couldn't do that if I tried all
night. Now, Cordelia, dear, we are going to let you off with a mere
snatch, but we must make this as complete as we can that the effect may
be more striking. This, Cordelia, dear."

Cordelia, laughing and squinting up her eyes, took the paper with a
good grace. "I am perfectly willing," she said, and glibly rattled off:

"Puryulls may do for some, but give me diamonds, thutty or more
puryfect ones, for I am the guryull from New York."

"It is the most interesting study in dialect, that we have ever had at
this college," remarked Juliet. "We shall all be immensely benefited by
it, for I want you to understand, young ladies, that these are living
examples of how they do it in the various localities represented, and
the examples have been imported at a great expenditure of time and
strength. I think you will all agree that in the last one, we have
reached the climax. Miss Lee Penrose, of Virginia, will now give us an
example of true Virginny dialect."

Lee had no bashfulness, and was too proud of her native State to
consider anything relating to it a matter of criticism, so she gaily
took her paper, and told how she "opened the do' into the co't, and
beyond it, saw a gyarden where were a lot of pretty gyurls who said we
are sho' 'nough F. F. V.'s."

There was a lot more to it which Lee did not hesitate to give.

"Perfectly delightful," Juliet cried. "Now, Miss Penrose, that was so
dead easy that you will have to supplement it by something else in
character. What shall it be?"

"A break down? A double shuffle? I can do those," said Lee, quite ready
for anything.

"Yes, yes," came from every part of the room.

"The amiable Miss Penrose in her unparalleled character dances,"
announced Juliet.

And Lee stepped out, fairly delighting them all by her agility and the
intricacy of her steps, winding up with a cake walk which convulsed
them all.

"You are a dear," cried Juliet. "You are worth the whole bunch. I just
love you for being so ready to please us."

And Lee, having scored a hit, sat down breathless from her exertions.

"Janet Ferguson, you haven't done any stunt," said Juliet suddenly.
"Come out here, you and your roommate. What is her name? Oh, thank you,
Teddy Waite. We are not going to let you off too easy in spite of your
crimsoned brow. Oh, yes, we did eat all their ginger, didn't we? Well,
if they are good, and mind what we say, we won't be very hard on them.
Let me see—What? Oh, thank you, Fay. Miss Ferguson, you will have to go
out into the hall, and climb over your own door by way of the transom.
This is what is called a reflective act, for it is to give you an
appreciation of the difficulties we have had to endure, and will also
give you some thing to reflect upon."

Now Janet was not very athletic. She had but just begun her work in
the gymnasium, yet she could climb, thanks to her country training,
and though she was awkward enough in crawling through the transom, she
managed to scramble down without mishap. Edna was then requested to
go through the same feat, and the sophomores then took their leave,
expressing themselves as having been greatly entertained.

When they had gone, Janet threw herself into a chair and sighed with
relief.

"It wasn't so bad as I was afraid it might be," she said. "Thank
heaven, that's over; and I don't suppose there'll be any more of it."
And there was not.



CHAPTER III

FRATERNITY GIRLS

SCARCELY had Janet become accustomed to her new surroundings, before
she found herself the object of special attention from certain girls
in the college, and she quite plumed herself upon being so popular
with these students in the upper classes. She took pains, however, to
hide her elation, for she had wit enough to discover that most of the
freshmen were very well satisfied with themselves, and that it was the
aim of the sophs to take them down, a wholesome discipline, to be sure,
for the majority of them. Indeed, it was in talking to Rosalie Trent, a
junior who had selected Janet for special attention, that she learned
what was expected of the freshmen, and how far many of them failed in
meeting the expectation.

"They know it all," exclaimed Rosalie. "I don't mean you, Janet dear,
for even if you think yourself a star of the first magnitude you have
sense enough to keep your opinions to yourself. But the consequential
airs of some of the new girls actually put me in a temper. I met one of
these important individuals waiting for the elevator awhile ago; Nell
Deford was there, too; you know how we all regard Nell, and even if she
were not a senior, we'd show her deference. Well, what does this little
whipper-snapper do, but push herself into the elevator ahead of Nell."

"What did you do?" asked Janet, appalled at such an impertinence on the
part of a freshman.

"I swept her back and said, 'Miss Deford first, if you please.' Then I
stepped in after Nell, and let Miss Fresh enter last. I must say that
she had the grace to look abashed. You see why we have to sit on such
creatures once in awhile, or they would simply run the whole place. You
are going to the tea with me, aren't you, Janet? Becky Burdett is a
girl worth knowing."

"And she is a senior? I think it is lovely of her to want me to come,
and I shall surely go."

"You will meet some of our nicest girls there, and Becky has a very
pleasant home."

"I think it just dear of you to take me," said Janet gratefully. She
was a little bewildered by Rosalie's evident desire to please her, and
wondered why she should have so attracted her. It was after Rosalie
left the room and Cordelia came in that she found out.

"I see Rosalie Trent is rushing you," she said.

"Why, what makes you think so?" asked Janet.

"Wasn't she just here, and haven't you been walking with her and
meeting her after class to walk home with her?"

"Why, yes, I have sometimes."

"They say that it is a great compliment to be asked to join the
fraternity that Nell Deford and Becky Burdett belong to, and you ought
to feel flattered."

"Fraternity? Rosalie has never mentioned the word to me."

"Of course not. It would be the greatest breach of etiquette to think
of doing that, and Rosalie would rather die than mention it to you; all
the same she is rushing you, it is very plain to be seen. You didn't
suppose she was showering her attentions upon you simply because she
loved you for yourself alone, did you?"

"I didn't know. Some of the others have done the same."

"They are frat girls, too, and nothing is too much for a rushee."

"Well I think it is very nice to be a rushee. I like all this attention
whether they want me in their fraternity or not. Any way you put it, it
is a compliment, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course, for they are supposed to be very particular whom they
ask. Shall you join that one, Janet, or any at all?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought much about it. Shall you?"

"No, I think not. I rather think I shall be a non-frat. It takes up
such a lot of time and there are expenses for one thing and another,
and I would rather spend my money some other way."

"But there are advantages," said Janet. "You meet a lot of nice girls,
and you may make acquaintances that will be a pleasure and a benefit to
you all your life."

"That is true, but I can get along without that, I think. Is Ted going
to join?"

"I don't know. We haven't discussed it."

"What do you talk about, pray?"

"Oh, a thousand things. Heaven knows there is enough to talk about,
isn't there?"

"Well, yes, if one wants to merely say words. It doesn't appear to me
that there are many girls here worth holding a real conversation with."

"Another argument for a frat," said Janet. "You might meet a kindred
soul, if you joined one," she continued, searching in her bureau drawer
for a pair of light gloves. "There's Ted now! If you want to talk frats
to her, you can do it, and I will ask to be excused while I complete my
toilet, for I am going with Rosalie to the halls of the rich and the
great."

Teddy and Cordelia soon left her, and she started off with Rosalie for
the tea, which proved to be an occasion for a perfect ovation. Every
girl present seemed to want to make herself as agreeable as she knew
how, and lavished compliments upon Janet till she might well have
become vain.

"I have wanted so much to meet you," said Becky Burdett. "Rosalie has
been talking of Janet Ferguson till we all feel that not to know you is
to have lost something. Nell Deford has been asking about you. Will you
let me bring her over to talk to you?"

Would she let her? Janet was overwhelmed, for of all persons whom she
desired to meet, the stately Miss Deford was the one; and when she
found herself listening to pretty speeches from this paragon, she was
in the seventh heaven of delight. That she, Janet Ferguson, a country
girl, a freshman, with nothing special to recommend her, should be
receiving friendly advances from the star of the senior class, who
had written clever stories, who had an enviable record for brilliant
work in more than one course, who was editor-in-chief of the college
magazine, and who, altogether, was a person of importance—this was a
privilege that Janet never expected to come her way.

She went home in a transport of delight. "I've had the loveliest time,"
she exclaimed as she drew off her gloves. "I wish you could have gone,
Teddy. Just think, I met Nell Deford and Becky Burdett, and some of the
loveliest girls, and they were so sweet to me. I think it is perfectly
delicious to be rushed."

"One of the seniors invited me to go to a lecture with her," said Edna.

"Which one of the girls was it?"

"I forget her name, but she wears a hat trimmed with a centrepiece and
a feather duster."

Janet laughed. "Oh, that's Theresa McGarvey. She is great fun. She had
that hat on this afternoon, and she certainly looks like a guy, but she
is so droll and so full of life, nobody cares how she looks. I hope you
are going to accept her invitation, for if we join any frat it should
be that one; the very nicest and brightest of the girls belong to it.
How did you happen to meet Miss McGarvey?"

"She came up and spoke to me after Latin this morning. She asked if
the nice fresh-looking girl with dark hair whom she saw so often with
Rosalie Trent were not my roommate. I replied that she was. Then she
asked your name and I told her. Then she asked if I had many friends
here, and I said, yes, that I had numbers, that I believed I had as
many as six; then she invited me to go to the lecture with her."

"Oh, I do hope she means to rush you, Ted. You don't know what fun it
is. I must confess, however, that it plays havoc with one's outside
plans, but Cordelia says they don't keep it up very long. I wish you
could go to Miss Burdett's; she has such a lovely home. I noticed that
she had several awfully good casts in her room. I mean to get some, a
Barrye lion, I think, and one of those fascinating heads like hers."

"Has she a fascinating head? It didn't strike me so when you pointed
her out to me in chapel."

"Goose, I mean her cast of a head, of course. Say, Teddy, don't forget
that it is as much as your life's worth to mention the word frat to any
of these girls. One of the freshmen didn't know she oughtn't to, and
she asked one of the rushers when pledge day would be; they dropped
her instantly, and she couldn't imagine why. We must never give them a
suspicion of a hint that we know why they are nice to us. Cordelia told
me all that. I don't know what we should do without Cordelia; she is so
well posted, you know, because her sister was graduated here last year."

A knock at the door interrupted their talk, and Janet admitted a
stylishly dressed girl who asked, "Isn't this Miss Ferguson?"

"Yes, I am Janet Ferguson," was the reply.

"My friend, Effie Chandler, told me to be sure to look you up," said
the stranger as Janet ushered her into the room.

"Oh, then you must be Hester Reeves," said Janet. "Effie told me I
should see you here. Do let me call Teddy. This is Effie's friend, Miss
Reeves, Ted. It is nice to meet friends of your friends when you are
away from home, isn't it?" she said turning to the visitor.

Hester smiled. "It is for me in this case. What lovely rooms you have.
Aren't those portières the quaintest things. I always envy the girls
who can have a sitting room and a bedroom, too."

"We like it so, though I do sleep in the sitting room," said Janet. "We
thought it would be better to do that way, and then if one must sit up
late studying, the other, who may not have to, can go to bed early and
need not be disturbed. Are you in one of the dormitories, Miss Reeves?"

"No," was the answer, "I board outside. I tried Hopper Hall for two
years and got tired of it, so this year I concluded to go to one of the
boarding houses. It gives me a little more freedom, I find."

"Then if you have been here two years, you are a junior, aren't you?"
said Edna. "Dear me, it seems a long time before we shall be in your
shoes."

Hester laughed. "It always seems long at the start, but when I think
that next year will be my last I cannot realize it, and begin to feel
very regretful that the time is so short."

Then followed a lot of personal talk, and at length Hester invited both
the girls to go to a matinée with her the next Saturday, and shortly
took her leave.

"Well," said Janet, when the door had closed after their guest, "there
is one girl who has no axe to grind, and who is going to be nice to us,
Teddy. Do you like her?"

"Yes," returned she, "but I should say she was a person fond of her own
way."

"Who isn't fond of it?" laughed Janet. "I'm sure I am."

For the next two weeks, Hester saw a great deal of the two girls and
was constantly asking them out to dinner, to drive, to walk, and
showered so many attentions on them, that they were convinced that she
was really very fond of them. Then came pledge day, and both girls,
who had decided to join the fraternity to which Becky Burdett, Nell
Deford, and Rosalie Trent belonged, donned their pledge pins and came
out ardent frat girls.

It was the same day that Janet came in to the room where Edna was hard
at work over her daily theme.

"Weren't we to go somewhere this afternoon?" asked Janet.

"We were, but we are not," replied Edna without looking up. "There's a
note there on the table from Hester Reeves asking us to excuse her from
going to Mrs. Talbot's tea."

"That's funny," returned Janet. "I met Hester in the library just now
and she barely spoke to me. What have we done, Ted?"

"I'm sure I don't know," responded Edna, looking puzzled. "I am
quite sure I haven't made fun of any of her relations, and I did not
monopolize her best young man at the reception the other night."

"I cannot plead guilty to either of those crimes, nor to having been
anything but most amiable. It's sort of awkward, isn't it, Ted, to be
treated as if you were guilty when you are in a state of conscious
innocence? What are these?" She took up two notes lying on the table.

"Oh those? I suppose yours is the same as mine. I am glad we have
settled on our fraternity."

Janet glanced at her note. "Ted," she exclaimed, "I do believe this
accounts for it. Hester Reeves has been rushing us after all, and we
silly-billies didn't see through it. We thought it was all for our own
sweet sakes, or for the sake of Effie Chandler." She sat down and began
to laugh.

"I wonder if that is it," said Edna after a moment's thought.

"I certainly believe it is."

"Well, I said she looked like a person who was bound to have her own
way. I'll bet she is furious."

"Dear me, then let her be," said Janet. "We can't help it. I'd rather
it were that, than something else, though I can't help laughing to
think how we have been fooled, and how she has been, too, for that
matter. I like the girls in our frat so much the best of any, and even
if we hadn't pledged, I wouldn't change, would you?"

"Indeed, I would not," replied Edna. "We must not breathe a word of
this to any of the other girls, though," she said, as she went back to
her theme.

Their conjectures proved to be quite true, for from that time, Hester
dropped them, and not only she but several others, who had been
particularly agreeable to Janet and Edna in the interest of their
fraternity, after this had no more attentions for them.

However, with their new friends, the girls were content, and felt that
their fraternity privileges were very great, since it gave them an
intimacy with those of the seniors whom it would have been difficult in
any other way to meet.

It was to Becky Burdett's pretty home that the girls liked specially
to go, for Becky was a city girl and could eschew boarding houses,
dormitories and regulations, and was much sought after because of this,
and because she was a thoroughly generous-hearted, loyal and lovable
girl. She was friendly, too, with a number of the faculty, and visited
Professor Newcomb's wife and Professor Satterthwaite's daughters, so
that she seemed to the innocent little freshmen a person living within
a charmed circle.

"Could you ever, ever imagine yourself on jocose terms with your
professor of mathematics?" said Janet as the two girls settled down one
afternoon for hard work. "I nearly have nervous prostration if I happen
to come face to face with him on the street, and to sit at his right
hand at table would finish me completely."

"Well, since you don't have to sit at his right hand," said Edna, "why
these remarks?"

"I was thinking of something Becky Burdett told me; of a joke Mr.
Satterthwaite told her, and I couldn't imagine his condescending to
anything so light."

"My dear, he is but a man, and probably his wife finds him very human,"
returned Edna sagely. "I am not half so much afraid of him as of Miss
Drake. She is so terribly dignified and stately that she freezes me
to an icicle. Imagine kissing her, or having little quips with her.
Gracious! I'd as soon try to tickle an iceberg or a polar bear."

"Who's a polar bear?" asked some one putting her head in at the door.
"I knocked, but you didn't hear. I came to borrow some alcohol."

"Goodness, Lee, we haven't a drop," Janet told her. "What do you want
with it?"

"Gwine mek a cup o' tea fo' Miss Meadows an' de gals," returned Lee;
"by Miss Meadows meaning Miss Drake."

"Not Miss Drake, the instructor in Latin? We were just talking about
her."

"It was not she whom you were calling a polar bear, was it?"

"Oh, but we said first an iceberg; she's so very dignified, you know."

Lee laughed. "Come in and have a cup of tea with us. Ted said you were
going to Mrs. Talbot's tea or I would have asked you before."

"With Miss Drake there?" ejaculated both the girls.

"Why not?"

"She isn't really in your room, is she?"

"Of course she is. I've known her all my life."

"And you're not scared to death of her?"

"Of Tilly Drake, as mamma calls her? I see myself. You won't be either,
though perhaps it is wise to allow you to retain a little wholesome
fear. Let me tell you something: Tilly's dignity is all assumed. I'm
letting you into a secret, mind. I believe in my heart of hearts that
she is as much scared of the girls as they are of her, and so she takes
refuge in the heavy dignity. You'd better come and see her. I know
Charity Shepherd has some alcohol. It would be against her New England
thrift to allow herself to be out of it, so I'll go there. If I tell
her it is for Miss Drake, she will give it to me. Ordinarily one has to
bind and gag her in order to get it, for she will not succumb to fair
means. She'll let me have it for Miss Drake though."

The girls looked at each other as Lee danced out. "Shall we go?" said
Janet. "I'm willing."

"I'll go if you will keep me in countenance," returned Edna. "If
you see me frozen with fright, just chip in and keep the ball of
conversation rolling. Fortunately it's just the next room, so if we
make any dreadful breaks, we can run and look the door before Miss
Drake can catch us."

Janet laughed. The idea of the dignified Miss Drake phasing them home
was too absurd.

"My teeth are fairly chattering," said Edna in a whisper, as they
reached Lee's door, "and just feel my hands, Janet."

"They're like ice. You poor thing, I believe you actually are rattled,"
Janet returned, and just then the door opened to admit them. "Here are
two frightened doves, Miss Drake," said Lee. "Come up and meet the
ogress, girls."

Miss Drake laughed. She looked very handsome and quite approachable
as she sat there in her plumed hat, wearing a very feminine cloth
skirt, and a white silk waist on which was pinned a bunch of violets.
In the class-room, she dressed severely in a plain black gown with
no ornaments at all, and the effect of the becoming hat and the soft
lace at throat and wrists was to alter her appearance decidedly. She
held out a welcoming hand to the girls. "I'm glad to meet you in this
informal way," she said. "Do I really scare you?"

Edna sat down uneasily on the edge of a chair, but Janet was more
confident. "I think I don't usually come from your class quite as stiff
with fright as Ted does," she answered. "It usually takes me quite an
hour to get her limbered up. Professor Satterthwaite is my Gorgon. When
he turns those penetrating eyes of his upon me, I feel the blood slowly
congealing in my veins, and can't for the life of me tell a theorem
from a broomstick. I think I shall give up mathematics, if I live
through this semester."

"I used to feel just that way about Professor Satterthwaite when I was
a freshman," said Miss Drake, "so you have my warmest sympathies."

Edna settled herself a little more comfortably on her chair. "Dear me,"
she said, "was he ever your professor, Miss Drake?"

Miss Drake smiled. "Why yes, my dear. Back in the dark ages, some ten
or twelve years ago he was."

Edna opened her eyes, yet it certainly was easier to imagine this
Miss Drake as a college student less time ago than that, though
the instructor who sternly conducted the Latin class—in which the
freshman sat, might well have been a fellow student with Professor
Satterthwaite, Edna reflected. She thawed out enough to say:

"It must be pleasant to come back and teach in the college where you
were once a student."

"Yes, it is," returned Miss Drake with a twinkle in her eye, "except
when my girls think me an iceberg."

Edna turned scarlet, and Janet turned indignantly on Lee. "I think that
was horrid of you, Lee Penrose."

"What was horrid?" asked Lee innocently turning from her occupation of
making tea.

"To tell Miss Drake that we called her an iceberg."

"Oh, but I didn't, did I, Miss Drake?" said Lee.

"No, really she did not. That was merely a haphazard hit. When the
girls are scared, they always call me that, and so I guessed that
you did," explained Miss Drake. "Come here, Miss Waite, and see how
comfortable this divan is with three pillows at one's back."

Edna rather timidly came and sat by her, and felt her hand clasped in
the soft warm one of the "iceberg" who smiled down at her and said, "Do
I freeze you?"

"Not a bit," replied Edna taking courage.

"Here, Ted, give her a cup of tea," said Lee, and Edna, only too
willing, jumped up to wait on the woman with whom she was now fast
falling desperately in love. Her conquest was complete when, before she
departed, Miss Drake divided her bunch of violets with her.

"She is simply adorable," said Teddy ecstatically when she and Janet
had returned to their own room. "Oh, Janet, if she should ever kiss me,
I should die of joy."



CHAPTER IV

THE INITIATION

"WHAT do you suppose they will do to us?" said Janet on the day when
she and Edna expected to be initiated into their fraternity.

"I'm sure I don't know," returned Edna plaintively. "I hope it won't be
very awful. Fay Wingate scared me nearly to death with her vague little
hints and insinuations. I never know when to believe her."

Janet laughed. "What hundreds of other girls have stood, I think we
can stand. None of the others seem to have been fatally injured by the
process. What time did Rosalie and Fay tell us to be ready?"

"Before four," answered Edna nervously looking at her watch. "It is ten
minutes before four now. I wish the bothersome thing was over, or I
wish I had never promised to join. I suppose it is too late to back out
now."

"For pity's sake, Ted, don't be such a baby," said Janet disgustedly.
"Do brace up and act as if you weren't scared, even if you are. I
wouldn't have any one suspect I was afraid for anything. Here they
come. Do pull up your features and smile."

And by the time Edna could make some attempt at carrying a less
lugubrious countenance, there was a knock at the door.

"Smile, girl, smile," said Janet fiercely, "though the Philistines be
upon thee."

Edna gave a ghastly grin as Janet opened the door to admit Rosalie and
Fay.

"Shall we blindfold them here?" asked Fay.

"I don't think there is any need to do that," returned Rosalie. "Are
you ready, girls?"

"Yes," said Janet firmly.

"Yes," echoed Edna weakly.

"Come on, then," said Rosalie. She led the way to the street, where
stood the Burdetts' carriage with the footman holding open the door.

Before leading the way down the steps, Rosalie paused, and whipped out
a couple of silk handkerchiefs, with which she bound the eyes of both
Janet and Edna. "You are not to speak to each other nor to any one else
until you are spoken to, and then only in answer to direct questions,"
she charged them. "When you arrive at your destination, the footman
will see that you are safely conducted indoors. There you are to wait
till some one comes to speak to you and tell you what to do next."

Half laughing, half scared, the girls gropingly made their way into the
carriage.

"You know where to go, James," said Fay to the coachman.

"Yes, miss," replied the man, touching his hat. Then the door slammed
and they were driven away to the unknown.

After what seemed rather a long drive, the carriage stopped, and the
door of it was opened by the footman, who said, "I will help you out,
ladies."

He carefully guided first Janet then Edna up a long flight of steps,
rang the bell and stood waiting for it to be answered.

"It's all right," they heard him say as some one opened to them. Then
they were conducted across a tiled floor to a soft carpet and were made
conscious of the odor of roses and the hush of a warm curtained room.

It was all very mysterious, but they imagined they must be in some
private house. They heard the carriage roll away, and each clutched the
other who sat beside her on a sofa. It was some comfort to feel the
presence of a companion in misery.

Presently they heard the murmur of voices in what seemed a room beyond,
then some one came forward.

"Well, young ladies," a voice addressed them, "was it Mrs. or Miss
Austin you wished to see?"

"I—we—don't know," replied Janet helplessly.

"Humph!" There was a silence following the ejaculation. Evidently their
interlocutor was puzzled. "I think, perhaps," he said hesitatingly,
"you have made a mistake. No doubt you were going to Dr. Armitage for
treatment. He lives on this same street a block further down."

No answer.

"A most remarkable state of things," said the gentleman. And they heard
him move briskly away. His heavy tread indicated that he was stout, his
voice that he was elderly. He must have been rather perturbed, for he
called hastily: "Solomon, Solomon, go call Mr. Van. Tell him to come at
once."

[Illustration: "INSANE, EVIDENTLY INSANE," SAID THE ELDERLY MAN.]

It certainly was a strange situation, and the girls began to wonder
what the outcome would be. They sat there in the still perfumed room,
waiting the next development, which came presently.

"Most remarkable," they heard the old gentleman repeating as he went
out to meet some one whose heels clicked upon the marble tiling of the
hall. "Do come in, Van, and see what you make of it," they could hear
him say.

Janet felt like giggling, but instead she squeezed Edna's arm. She felt
almost certain that they were being regarded by a pair of strange men.

"Would you mind telling us," said a well-modulated and manly voice,
"just whom you wish to see?"

"We'd like to, but I'm afraid we can't," answered Janet.

"Then can you tell me why you are here?"

"That's something that we are dying to find out," returned Janet. "We
hoped you could tell us."

"Insane, evidently insane," said the throaty voice of the elderly man.
"Van, you'd better call in an officer or a doctor or some one."

"Wait a minute," said the younger man. "They are apparently willing to
answer questions and are very quiet. We'll risk it a little further."

"You probably know that you are in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Austin,
don't you?" said the old gentleman.

"We don't know where we are," Edna told them.

"How did you get here?"

"In a carriage," Janet replied.

"Whose?" asked the young man.

"Miss Becky Burdett's."

"Ah-h?" There was satisfaction in the tones. "We all know Miss Becky,
and—why yes, I begin to see daylight. Are you residents of the city?"

"No."

"Are you visiting Miss Becky?"

"No."

"Then perhaps she sent her carriage to take you to the oculist's. Are
you from the Blind Asylum?"

Edna tittered and Janet laughed outright.

"No, we are not from there," replied the latter.

The young man regarded them with a puzzled look on his face which it
would have amused them to see. There was some great mystery here,
and his curiosity was aroused to such a pitch that he was determined
to find out why these two well-dressed, nice looking girls should be
in such an awkward position. He meditated upon the subject, then he
suddenly remembered that Becky was a college girl, and his next leading
question was, "Are you attending college?"

"Yes," the answer came promptly.

"And do you happen to be fraternity girls?" the question followed
quickly.

Janet laughed. "Not quite yet," she answered.

The young man laughed too. "Just trot back to your paper, dad," he
said. "It's all right, I'll bet a sixpence. I can manage this. My
mother and sister have not come in yet," he addressed himself again to
the girls, "or I am sure they would be delighted to receive any of Miss
Becky's friends. As it is, I am inclined to think that there has been
some mistake. Now, if you will allow me, I will call a carriage and
conduct you to No. 136 East. This is No. 136 West, and I think it is
very likely that the coachman made the mistake. If we find that you are
not expected at this number East, I will see you safely to your home.
Does the plan meet with your approval?"

"Entirely," said Janet. She wished that she might thank him, but she
was pledged to answer only a direct question.

"You couldn't take off those bandages," said the young man. No reply.

"Could you be persuaded to take off those bandages?" he repeated, quick
to understand the situation.

"No, we mustn't," Edna told him.

"Very well, I will not insist. Be perfectly easy, young ladies; I'll
call the carriage at once, and will stop to explain your predicament
to my father who is much concerned. I see he is watching us instead of
reading his paper, and if you knew him, you would understand what that
means."

Janet and Edna were burning to speak to each other, but kept strictly
to the letter of their instructions, and would only giggle and squeeze
each other's hands. The situation had proved more exciting than they
had expected, and whatever the next act might be, this first certainly
possessed the elements of an adventure. They waited tranquilly till
the young man returned with the information that the carriage was in
waiting, and if they were ready, he would be glad to escort them to
their possible destination.

"If we are ready!" said Janet to herself, shaking with laughter. Her
mirth was of the contagious kind, and the young man who established
himself on the opposite seat of the carriage joined in.

"There's nothing like seeing the humorous side of a situation," he
said. "I think this is a great lark. You see, I am a college man
myself, and can appreciate these irregularities and complications. I
shall have some fun with Miss Becky about this."

Janet immediately became grave. They had in no way violated the
confidence reposed in them, but if this were to become commonly known;
if the college boys were to get hold of it, Becky and her friends might
blame the innocent causes of it.

The young man understood her embarrassment for he said gently: "Perhaps
you would rather I didn't say anything about it. Would you rather I
didn't?"

"Oh, yes, we would," returned Janet eagerly.

It was but a few minutes' drive to No. 136 East. At the window of
the house stood the anxious Rosalie Trent who dashed to the door as
soon as the carriage stopped. She met Mr. Austin coming up the steps,
and stopped short in her surprise. "Mr. Austin," she exclaimed, "I—I
thought—"

"You thought I was some one else? Are you looking for two wandering
innocents, blindfolded and ignorant of where they were expected to go?
If you are, I can assure you they are quite safe."

"Oh, where did you find them?" cried Rosalie. "They should have been
here an hour ago, and we have been worried to death about them. Are
they there?" She peered out at the carriage.

"They are there. Shall I bring them in? I can vouch for their being the
most heroically non-committal young persons I ever had the fortune to
meet. By the way, Miss Trent, who is the taller one with the dark hair?"

"I shall not tell you," said Rosalie, running down the steps.

"Don't you think I deserve to know?" said the young man following her.

"Sometime, maybe, but you wouldn't have the dear thing mortified by
your knowledge at present, would you? Please don't talk of this, Mr.
Austin."

"I promised the girl with the raven locks that I wouldn't," he said,
"so you can trust me."

"Did she ask you not to?" said Rosalie.

"Not she. It was only by plying her with direct questions that we could
get a word out of her. The old gentleman thought they were crazy, and
was all for sending them to a lunatic asylum."

"Poor dears," murmured Rosalie, going swiftly to the carriage and
opening the door. "I am so glad you've come, girls," she said, losing
all attempt at being mysterious in her delight at seeing them safe. "We
didn't know what had happened. Becky was just telephoning to inquire if
the carriage had gone home and what the coachman had to report."

"Oh, may we speak to some one, just once?" asked Janet in eager,
hurried tones.

"Why yes, under the circumstances you may," returned Rosalie. "I am
sure it will be allowable. What did you want to say?"

"We must thank Mr. Austin," said Janet. "It would be dreadful not to
when he has been so kind."

"Surely you must. I will answer for that," said Rosalie.

Then the three girls expressed their thanks as cordially as they
could, and were assisted up the steps by their escort, the door closed
behind them, and he drove away leaving them to face the mysteries of
initiation.

When they emerged from their stay of three hours behind closed doors
they were full-fledged frats. They were also something else, for they
were able to pose as the heroines of an adventure. Not a girl in this
inner circle but clamored for an account of their experiences while
under the Austins' roof.

"What did you think of it?" asked Becky Burdett.

"We were surprised, of course," Janet acknowledged, "but then we
expected to be surprised. We started out to meet surprises on the way,
and we didn't know at first but that it was one of them. We thought
it was all pre-arranged, and when Mr. Austin came in, we thought he
belonged to the performers."

"Then when did you begin to suspect?"

"When he brought in his son and began to talk of sending us to a
lunatic asylum."

The girls screamed with delight.

"But we calmed down when his son took the matter in hand. Oh, girls,
but when he asked us if we were from the Blind Asylum, it was too much."

The girls broke out into a second roar of laughter.

"It is so funny," cried Fay rocking back and forth in glee. "Go on,
Janet. What did you think we were up to?"

"We hadn't an idea. We couldn't believe you had enlisted your fathers
and brothers in the cause, and we were puzzled to know why you sent
us to a place where we were not expected, till Mr. Austin, (Van, his
father called him), suggested that we had been left at the wrong house.
He really was a second Sherlock Holmes in the way he ferreted out the
truth."

"He is a college man himself, and knows the ways that are dark," Becky
told them.

"Anyhow he is a gentleman," said Janet stoutly, "for he promised not to
tell when I didn't even ask him not to."

"Couldn't he be a college man and a gentleman?" queried Fay.

"He might be," returned Janet doubtfully, to tease Fay who doted on the
students of the neighboring university. "Oh, girls," she went on, "but
we were good; we didn't ask a single question, neither did we speak to
each other. That and one other thing were the hardest I ever had to do
in all my life."

"What was the other thing?" asked Rosalie.

"Not to lift the bandage from my eyes to see what Mr. Van Austin looks
like. I am paid up for all the untoward curiosity I ever showed in
all my life, and for thousands of other things. To think of meeting a
fascinating young man, and not being able to tell what he looks like,
while he could only observe the tip of my nose and my mouth! It is
tragic, absolutely tragic. You couldn't get up another situation like
it if you were to try for a thousand years."

"We builded better than we knew," said Nell Deford. "Never mind, Janet,
there are compensations. You and Teddy can assure yourselves that no
other girls were ever initiated under just such circumstances."

"A poor consolation," sighed Janet. "For the rest of my life I shall be
seeking a voice."

"Why must you do that?" said Fay. "When Becky and Rosalie both know
him; nothing in the world would be easier than to bring about a
meeting."

"Never!" cried Janet. "I hope he will never find out anything more
about us, and all I want is merely to see him from a distance so I can
wear his image in my heart."

"Indeed, then, I shall do better than that," spoke up Edna.

"What shall you do?" asked Janet, turning upon her. "If you get the
better of me, Teddy Waite, I'll never forgive you. What are you going
to do?"

"I'll tell you when I've done it," returned Teddy.

"If you don't, I'll drag it from you by slow torture," declared Janet.
"Come along. I must get you to myself. The rest are ready to go. Yes,
we'll be sure to come to the next frat meeting, Rosalie. Meantime, if
Teddy does any dark and doubtful deed, you needn't expect to see her."

But at the end of three weeks, Edna confessed to her roommate that her
best laid scheme had gone aglee, for though she had devised a plan by
which she hoped to be able to catch a sight of the unknown Van Austin
the plan had come to naught.

"For three mortal Sundays," she said plaintively, "I have started out
early. The first I walked up and down that street till church time."

"Why, Teddy Waite."

"Yes, I did. I haunted the square where the Austins live; I really did."

"Well, what came of it?"

"The first Sunday, two ladies came out and went to church together."

"Why didn't you follow them to see where they went?"

"I did."

"And you found out?"

"Yes, they went to St. Stephen's."

"Well?"

"So the second Sunday, I went there."

"That was a bright move to make. Well, after that?"

"There were three persons in the pew: an elderly man—yes, I saw him,"
as Janet looked questioningly. "He looks exactly as we thought he did.
Then there were his wife, a tall, fine-looking woman, and the daughter,
about twenty-six or seven, I should think, nice looking and handsomely
dressed; but I didn't go to that church to see them."

"Still it was some satisfaction," declared Janet. "I think I'll go
there next Sunday. What about the third time?"

"Not a sign of any young man. I don't believe he goes to church."

"I'd hate to think that," said Janet. "Our hero would go, you know."

"Of course, but heroes don't always act as you would have them. I am
going to give it up and trust to fate."

"If Becky thought we really wanted to see him, she would make a way."

"Yes, but we have said we didn't want her to."

"I know that, and I won't appear anxious now. No, we must leave it all
to fate. It's much the best way," declared Janet. "Then there will be
no responsibility about it, and it will be so much more romantic. I
think however, we might go to St. Stephen's to church next Sunday."



CHAPTER V

THE FINALS

As the days went on, neither Janet nor Edna chanced to meet the unseen
Mr. Van Austin. The other girls, partly to tease them and partly
because the two declared they really wanted to keep up the mystery,
would tell them nothing about their hero, and as the time drew near
for the finals, they were too absorbed in making up for lost hours to
think of anything but geometry and German, Greek and Latin, and other
subjects more or less akin.

"I know I shall flunk in geometry; I just know it," wailed Janet who
was huddled in one corner of the room one day with a pile of books
beside her.

"Oh, Janet, don't talk that way," begged Edna. "It's bad enough for
me to get rattled, but when you do, I am simply left without a leg to
stand on. It isn't geometry that I am so worried over; it is Latin. If
I flunk in that, I shall never hold up my head again."

"Well, Teddy Waite, if Miss Drake hasn't some commiseration for you
after all the violets you have been lavishing upon her, I have my
opinion of Miss Drake."

"Oh, Janet, don't talk so. She couldn't make an exception of me if
she wanted to; and it is just because she is so adorable that I am so
miserable about not doing well. Don't you understand?"

"If that's the case," said Janet, "I ought to pass a brilliant
examination, for I don't adore Professor Satterthwaite. I'll pluck up
courage, Ted, if the rule works that way. Use your mind as Charity
Shepherd says. I believe Charity's half inclination toward Christian
Science is what she is depending upon, for she is very cheerful."

"If we had studied as hard as Charity has, we might have the same
reason for being cheerful," remarked Edna. "I think I will get her to
go over this with me."

She whirled her books together and carried them out of the room,
leaving Janet plodding over her geometry. She sat on the floor with her
feet stretched out and her eyes fixed on the book before her. Once in a
while, she would strike the page with her clenched fist, then she would
seize a paper and pencil and scribble away for some minutes.

After a while some one tapped at the door, and Rosalie Trent entered,
at first seeing no one. "Janet Ferguson," she cried, "where are you?"

"Here," answered Janet from her corner, giving a deep sigh and lifting
her head.

"What are you doing over there?"

"Cramming for the finals. Geometry comes to-morrow, and I am in a blue
funk over it. I truly am, Rosalie."

Her friend came and sat down near her, leaning forward with her chin in
her hands. "Why, aren't you pretty good in math?" she asked.

"No,—oh, I don't know. I'm not good in anything. I'm 'a po' ign'ant
creetur', as my old mammy used to say. My head whirls so that I don't
know an equilateral triangle from a buzz-saw."

Rosalie looked at her with compassion. "I'll venture to say you haven't
poked your nose out of doors this week, such beautiful weather as it
is, too. How long have you been working this way?"

"Oh, I don't know," responded Janet wearily. "Since I was born, it
seems to me. I can't remember ever having done anything else. Once in
a former existence I have a dim consciousness of baying been free and
happy, but that was eons ago."

"Well, if you don't stop this minute, and go out for a walk, you will
be in the infirmary within twenty-four hours. What you need is fresh
air and a relief from this steady strain," said Rosalie.

"Yes, doctor."

"And you'd better go right away without any delay."

"Yes, ma'am, I would go if I could. None would do it more gladly; but
with the sword of Damocles banging over my head, how could I enjoy it
or derive any benefit from it even if I could take the time, I should
like to know."

"Oh, you could, and go you must. It's time we juniors were looking
after our sister class in the direction of health, I think. You must
take your exams, as a matter of course, but they are not a question of
life and death. Just keep a pleasant thought in your mind, as they say
when you go to have your photograph taken, and say to yourself: This
time next week it will all be over, and this time two weeks I shall be
at home."

"And then nothing matters much, does it?" said Janet. Then suddenly she
realized all that going home meant, and the old familiar scenes arose
before her: the long low house with its portico in front, the orchard,
the tall trees bordering the lane, the flashing blue water of the bay,
the familiar forms moving about the house and grounds, Dicky whistling,
old Hooker singing a camp-meeting hymn, Eliza in the kitchen, Ginny in
the house. Up-stairs watching, waiting, longing for her, her mother,
her face full of joy at the thought of her home coming. She sprang
suddenly to her feet.

"I will go to walk," she cried. "Nothing makes the slightest difference
once one is at home. Come quick, Rosalie, before I am seized again by
the giant math." She snatched up her hat and the two sallied forth.

"You've saved my life," Janet said, taking a long breath as she stepped
out into the sunshine. "Isn't it a blessing to have a home? Two weeks
and all this will be a dream. We can shake off all the terrors and
horrors of flunks and funks and thunks and go scot free till next fall."

"Yes, it is a comfort," returned Rosalie with a little sigh, "yet I
shall be sorry to have my college days over when the day comes for me
to say good-bye to my alma mater."

"I suppose I shall feel that way too, at the end of four years," said
Janet. "Gracious, Rosalie, there comes Professor Satterthwaite. Oh,
dear, why did he have to come this way just when I was trying to forget
him? I will have to run, or I am lost."

"You'll do no such thing," said Rosalie, grasping her firmly. "Miss
Drake is with him, and she saw us. She will think we are trying to
avoid her."

"But you can explain. Say anything, that I have a sudden nose-bleed, or
that I—oh, anything. Do let me go, Rosalie."

"I'll do no such thing," declared Rosalie continuing to hold her in a
tight grasp, though Janet struggled to get away, till confused and not
in a very good humor, she was compelled to stand still and face the
approaching pair.

Miss Drake greeted her cordially, but the professor fixed his keen eyes
upon her as he shook hands with her.

"You're looking pale, Miss Ferguson," said Miss Drake. "Have you been
ill?" Indeed, the dark circles around Janet's eyes and the pallor of
her usually blooming cheeks, gave reason for the question.

"No," Rosalie answered for her, "she isn't really ill, but she soon
will be, if she doesn't stop working herself to death. It is simply
an attack of midnight oil, Miss Drake. I found her in the throes of a
cram, and so I dragged her out, much against her will. She has been
hard at it without cessation for days, and she will collapse utterly,
if she doesn't take any fresh air."

Professor Satterthwaite shook his head. "That's wrong, Miss Ferguson.
It doesn't do to burn the candle at both ends. What are you working at
so specially hard?"

Rosalie laughed. "I wouldn't question her too closely, Mr.
Satterthwaite; it might strike too near home."

Janet bit her lip to keep it from trembling, and the tears were very
near her eyes as she looked down afraid to meet the professor's gaze.

"Why, my child," he said in such kindly tones as went to Janet's heart,
"your work is not bad. I am sure there is no need of such desperate
measures. I don't see any reason why you should not make a creditable
examination."

Janet raised her eyes gratefully to meet a very gentle expression in
the face which had always appeared so stern to her.

"There, there, my dear," he said, patting her shoulder kindly, "don't
let yourself lose your courage. It is not going to be so difficult,
I promise you. Keep her out in this fine air as long as you can,
Miss Trent. There's nothing like fresh air and sunshine for flagging
spirits." And he passed on with an encouraging smile.

"Oh!" Janet drew a long breath. "I wouldn't have missed that for a
kingdom. To think that he smiled and called me 'my dear'! He is human
after all."

"He is a perfect old dear when you once arouse his interest," said
Rosalie. "That's why I was bound you shouldn't run away. I wanted him
to get up a little interest in you. Now that you have seen his best
side, I am sure it will come easier to you to-morrow."

"Of course it will. I shall not be afraid of
the-man-with-the-stone-face any more. Thank you, Rosalie, for insisting
upon my standing my ground. I find that college is much like the
Pilgrim's Progress, for when you come face to face with the lions, they
are no longer to be feared."

"It took me to the end of my freshman year to discover that, too,"
Rosalie told her. "Many of the things you mind very much this year will
seem mere bagatelles next."

Therefore Janet went home comforted, and retailed her experience to
Edna whom she persuaded to take some exercise in the open air. And
though both girls sat up half the night, it was less of a tax upon
their strength than it would have been if they had not bestirred
themselves to take the dose of fresh air insisted upon by Dr. Rosalie
Trent.

Nevertheless, it was a wan and trembling pair who gathered themselves
together preparatory to the examinations. How Janet got through her
ordeal in mathematics she never knew, but she declared it was because
Professor Satterthwaite had told her she would, and because she kept
saying to herself: "Two weeks from to-day I shall be at home, and then
none of all this will matter at all."

"I think," she said to Edna as they walked home across the campus,
"that I would like to go to bed and stay there forever."

But, with other examinations crowding close, and equally important
matters looming up in the chain of days immediately ahead, anything
like a halt was not to be thought of; and Janet, with the rest of the
girls, found herself caught in a whirl of events which bore her along
to Class Day, with Commencement Day just ahead. It gave her a great
thrill to think of the latter. She would be a sophomore after that, no
longer a freshman with perked up opinions and bewildered ideas.

She would come back another year with an exact knowledge of what
college life was, and there would be other freshmen who would have
to learn, as she had learned, things not taught in books, who would
be bewildered, and would fight hard for their opinions. Nell Deford
and Becky Burdett would have passed out "into the wide, wide world"
with the other "grand old seniors," but Rosalie would be there still,
herself a senior.

She was disturbed in her meditations by the rush of feet along the
corridor, and the entering the room of a crowd of girls.

"Where are you, Janet?" cried Lee Penrose. "Gracious, girl, don't you
know what time it is? You mustn't be mooning here. Have you forgotten
that this is Class Day?"

Janet turned and looked over the group of faces grown familiar to her
these past months. "I'm coming," she said. "I had finished college when
you came in, but I suppose I must do it all over again." She perched
her college cap upon her head and arranged the tassel carefully.
"Doesn't it strike you all as pathetic?" she said, when she had
adjusted it.

"Does what strike us as pathetic?" asked Lee. "What's the matter with
you this morning, Janet?"

"Nothing, except that any change makes me pensive."

"Even small change?" asked Lee laughing at her own nonsense.

Janet was too serious to notice her. "Even the small change of altering
the position of a tassel that you have worn in one way for nearly a
year. After Commencement Day, I'll never be a freshman any more."

"I'll never see my Annie any more," chanted Lee. "Do stop all this
sentimentality, Janet. I shall keep all my regrets and bewailings till
I leave college for good. We can't wait while you gather all your
tears in a bottle, and if you are going to stand there all day and
apostrophize that old tassel, we will not wait for you."

Janet came back to solid facts, and they all crowded out into the
corridor and down the stairs, chattering, laughing, whispering,
singing, out into the summer sunshine and across the campus, their
class flag floating before them. At the chapel door they gathered in a
body to give their class yell, and then they filed in.

It made Janet feel cold "all down her spine," she told Teddy afterward,
when she saw the sophomores ranged each side the entrance, lifting
their caps and forming an arch under which the seniors walked. It was
like some triumphal procession of which she was part and parcel. She
belonged to Class Day. All those exercises, of which she had so often
read, were being carried out because she and others like her made up
a grand whole without which there could be no college. She looked
around at the sea of faces, and for the first time in her life felt the
seriousness of the thought that each individual is responsible for its
class, whether it be at college or elsewhere. Then came the opening
prayer, and she entered, heart and soul, into the day's proceedings.

Commencement Day was less impressive to her, for her one great interest
lay in the act of changing the place of the college cap so that its
position would mean that the wearer had taken a step upward, and that
henceforth Janet Ferguson would no longer be known as a freshman.

The next excitement was the packing, and the departure for home. Becky
Burdett she would see again at frat meetings and elsewhere, but Nell
Deford would step out into the past and become a memory. Janet's lips
trembled as she kissed Nell good-bye, and more than one girl wept over
her. Then came other partings, gay ones, and those full of the promise
of meeting in a few months. Edna was to spend part of her summer at
Janet's home, and Rosalie exacted a few days from them both before they
should settle down in their rooms in the fall.

Of the rest, some traveled southward part of the way with Janet, and
others stood upon the platform to see them off, their college yell
being the last sound that was drowned by the shriek of the locomotive.
So Janet traveled on; and as the scenes grew more and more familiar,
her thoughts and desires were all flying ahead of her, to meet her as
facts on the threshold of the home she had left nearly nine months
before.



CHAPTER VI

IN THE GYM

MOST of the sophomore class had gathered in the gymnasium one afternoon
not long after Janet had returned to college. Nearly all of the former
students had come back, the only ones who had dropped out being Addie
Cox and Kathie Steele.

Janet was squirming through a series of square openings, Edna was
exercising upon the horizontal bar, while Lee Penrose was lightly
vaulting over the "horse." The enthusiasm of the girls was always
noticeable when the year was new, for not only did they enjoy
revisiting their old haunts, but most of them found it not unpleasant,
in their early pride of being sophomores, to display to the freshmen
their familiarity with the various institutions of the college.

Janet had squirmed through her fourth hole when looking below she
saw two girls in street attire enter. They stood near the door for a
moment looking at the feats of the girls who were exercising. Presently
Cordelia caught sight of them.

"What are those freshmen doing here?" she said. "Why have they the
audacity to come without their gym suits? Come down, Janet; we've got
to discipline those young women."

Janet, who was swinging her feet from the square frame in which she
sat, climbed down and ran to where Cordelia, Edna, and Lee were
whispering together. "Who are they?" she asked.

"Blest if I know," returned Cordelia. "Some audacious freshes, of
course, who must be taught their place. Come, let us go show them their
duty."

The four girls advanced to where the two visitors stood. "Young
ladies," said Cordelia, addressing them in mild but firm tones, "it is
against our rules for you to appear here in your street costumes. We
can't have it. Get yourselves undressed as quickly as possible, and put
on your gym suits."

The taller of the two girls laughed, and responded: "We haven't any
suits with us."

"Very well, that need not worry you," said Cordelia. "Ted, get a couple
of suits from somewhere. Lil Forsyth isn't here to-day, neither is Mary
Alston; get theirs."

Teddy sought out the suits and brought them over, while Janet,
Cordelia, and Lee stood over the girls and saw that they laid aside
their clothing, the rest of the class crowding around and enjoying the
situation.

"Get into these quick," said Cordelia; "we can't have any loitering."
The girls struggled into the suits in a half amused, half embarrassed
way.

"Now," said Cordelia, "you must exercise till we think you have done
the amount that is good for you. First lie down flat on your backs,
then sit up without bending your knees. Keep your arms flat to your
sides, or fold them across your chests. Here, I'll show you how. Try
again."

The two girls made the effort with no very good success.

"You'd better be taken separately," said Cordelia. "Here, Janet, you
see that the little one goes through her stunts, and we will see to the
other."

Nothing loath, Janet took her victim in hand, but passed her along to
whoever chose to suggest a special form of exercise. One made her jump
about the floor like a frog; another ordered her to swing from the
horizontal bar; while a third set her to climbing up a rope hand over
hand. Cordelia, meanwhile, with a posse of assistants, directed the
movements of the taller of the two girls.

Half an hour passed when Janet's charge began to show signs of
rebellion. "I can't squirm through these holes," she declared, "and I'm
not going to try."

"Oh, yes, you are; you'll have to," said Janet pleasantly. "You don't
suppose, my little dear, that freshmen can do exactly as they choose in
this college. Don't you know that we are the sophomore class?"

"I don't know anything about it," returned the girl sulkily. "I'm not a
freshman, so why should I care what you are."

"Tell that to the marines," said Janet. "We are up to all your tricks,
my young lady, and that doesn't go at all. What would you be but a
freshman? Don't you suppose we know the members of our own class? And
I know you are not a junior. Perhaps you will insist that you are a
senior. That would be what one might expect, I suppose."

"No, I don't insist upon that," said the girl.

"You don't really? May I ask your name?"

The girl was silent.

"Oh well, any name will do to call you by," Janet went on. "Suppose we
say that you are Miss Mute, Miss Silence Mute. Now, Miss Mute, you'll
have to go through this exercise. Up with you."

The girl struggled as Janet charged upon her, but was forced to the
side of the room to which she objected to go.

"Boost her up, Ted," cried Janet. "What will become of you, Miss Mute,
if you defy authority in this way at the very beginning of your college
career? There you go. Hand over hand is the way. Now then, into the
first square."

The girl managed to get this far, and sat mutinously swinging her feet,
but refusing to go through any further performance. "I am no college
girl," she declared, looking down from her perch. "I live in town, and
just came here for fun."

"Don't believe a word of it," said Janet. "We will not have any hashed
up excuse like that. You've got to go through all those holes before
you come down."

With a row of determined girls below her, the victim saw no means of
escape. She must either do as she was commanded, or stay where she was
in rather an uncomfortable position.

"It's a shame to treat us so," she cried. "I think it is barbarous."

"Now don't get excited, my child," said Janet suavely. "It isn't
becoming."

In vain, did Miss Mute protest that they had no right to detain her;
the row of girls below simply jeered at her. In vain, she appealed
to their humanity; they charged her with obstinacy, and at last, in
desperation, she awkwardly and angrily obeyed their order, all the time
insisting that it was an outrage.

Cordelia's pupil did a little better, and was willing to keep up the
spirit of the thing longer; expressed herself as entirely ready to
swing from a bar, to vault over a rope, and to do most of the things
insisted upon, but even she at last pleaded fatigue. She had come only
to see what it looked like anyhow, and it was not right to keep her
there against her will. She wanted to go home.

"She wants to go home," said Edna in a mocking voice. "And where is
home, little girl? Did you get lost, and do the naughty sophomores
tease you so you want to run tell mamma? Poor little fresh, I am afraid
you can't go to mamma just yet. She is too far-away, baby. Now, be a
good child, and do as you are bidden. It's not pretty to stand there
and look sullen. By the way, you haven't told us your name. Your little
playmate appears to rejoice under the name of Miss Mute, though her
name ill fits her after her tirade from her lofty perch. We will try to
give you a more fitting cognomen, if you do not care to divulge your
identity."

"I'm not afraid to tell my name," said the girl with a little fling of
her head. "I am Marian Austin, and if you want to know any more about
me you can ask my uncle, Mr. Courtney Austin, 136 East River Street."

"Gracious!" Edna looked around at Janet. "Come here, Janet," she said.
"Listen to what this young person says. She tells me that she is a
niece of Mr. Courtney Austin, of River Street. What do you think of
that?"

Janet looked dumbfounded. "Is she guying us, do you suppose?" she asked.

"No, I am not," replied the girl. "This has gone far enough. It was
funny at first, and we were perfectly willing to carry on the joke, but
it has ceased to be funny, and we'll thank you to let us go. I am a
stranger in the city—"

"As a matter of fact," murmured Janet, "we are all strangers. I am
afraid that isn't any argument."

The girl paid no attention to the interruption. "I am visiting at my
uncle's," she said, "and this afternoon one of my friends and I went
out for a walk, and we thought it would be fun to look in here and see
what was going on; then when you proposed that we should do some of
those things we thought it would be a good joke, but we are tired out
now, and you've no right to keep us here any longer."

"The question of whether we have the right is still an open one," said
Cordelia.

"You know you haven't the slightest right. It's all very well for you
sophomores to haze your freshmen, and make them do as you choose, but
you have no claim on us. It is an outrage, and if you don't let us go
this minute, I shall tell my uncle, and he will be furious. He will
report you to the faculty, and we shall see if something can't be done
to put a stop to such doings."

"Whew!" cried Cordelia. "Little girl's getting mad. Shall we let them
go, girls? We'll put it to vote. All in favor say, Aye." There was a
chorus of ayes.

"All not in favor, No."

There followed an equally decided chorus of noes.

"We can never tell that way," said Cordelia; "we'll have to have you
hold up your hands. Hands up, ayes. One, two, three," she counted the
uplifted hands of those voting aye; then by making her count of the
noes found that there was a tie. "Somebody will have to reconsider,"
she said. "How about you, Janet Ferguson?"

"They are tired, and I think they ought to be allowed to go," said
Janet. "I can't take back my aye."

"And you, Teddy Waite?"

"I agree with Janet."

"So loyal? What have you to say, Lee Penrose? Will you change your
vote?"

"Not I. I'm not to be corrupted. 'No,' I said, and 'no' I shall
continue to say."

"Charity Shepherd? Oh, I know your Puritan conscience would not let you
commit yourself. You didn't vote at all. Then I suppose I shall have to
be umpire. I say we make them do one more stunt and then let them go."

"Yes, yes," went up a shout.

"Then, Miss Marian Austin—a pretty name by the way; I don't wonder that
you selected it—we'll let you two off when you hang by your toes from
that bar."

"Oh no, that's too hard," objected Janet. "They might fall and hurt
themselves badly, Cordelia. I don't see why you want to insist upon
their staying."

"Thank you," said Miss Austin. "I am glad we have one friend at court
in our extremity, Miss Ferguson. Oh you needn't look surprised. I
remember your names, and if I should have to complain to my uncle—"

"Dear me," interrupted Teddy hastily, "don't make them stay, Cordelia."

"I have said." Cordelia made the statement grandly. "We are not going
to retreat from the stand we have taken; whatever 1904 is, she is not
cowardly."

"Hear, hear," arose accompanied by a soft clapping of hands from the
class.

"But," continued Cordelia, "I am willing to compromise by giving them
something dead easy. Don't you believe you could skin the cat, Miss
Austin?"

"No, that is too hard," protested Janet. "I don't call that dead easy."

After some parley, it was agreed that if each of the two girls would
turn a somersault she might be excused. They did it with not very good
grace, and then donned their street clothes.

"I don't like you college girls one bit," said Marian Austin just
as she reached the door, "and I hope I'll never see one of you
again. There are only two of you who have any sort of claim to being
anything but wild hoodlums, and they are Janet Ferguson and Teddy
What's-her-name. Come, Trix."

And they whirled out with magnificent disdain.

"My!" cried Cordelia. "Wasn't she in a temper? I wonder if they really
were telling the truth when they said they were city girls. If they
are, we made great big geese of ourselves, and I don't wonder they are
mad, even if they did come in where they had no business. But I still
hae me doots as to their not being freshmen. We'll have to find out."

"If that girl was pretending, when she said her name was Marian Austin,
she's a very good actress, that's all I've got to say," remarked Janet.

"I don't see how we'll ever find out if she did give a wrong name,"
said Lee. "We can't make it a business of personally interviewing every
girl in the freshman class, and of finding out what each of them looks
like."

Janet and Teddy looked at each other. They thought they knew a way of
discovering if Marian Austin were really a myth or not.

To the next frat meeting, Janet went early. It happened to be at Becky
Burdett's, and Janet saw her chance.

"Have you seen anything of your friends, the Austins?" she asked almost
immediately.

Becky began to laugh. "I saw Van a few evenings ago. What have you
girls been up to?"

"Then there is a Marian Austin," said Janet eagerly.

"There certainly is, and a pretty dance you led her. Van told me the
whole story, and wanted to know if I thought the two blind girls, as
he always calls you and Ted, were in the crowd. I didn't give him any
satisfaction, for I couldn't, though I suspected that you were among
the leaders. He said his cousin and Trix Venable were furious, and that
they told his father, who was for starting right off to lay the matter
before the dean, whom he knows very well; but Van interfered and told
him it wouldn't be worth while, that you girls were only in fun and
didn't really hurt anybody, and that Marian and Trix were to blame for
going where they had no business to go. So the old gentleman calmed
down, and Van talked his cousin over into persuading Mr. Austin to let
the matter drop. Marian said there were two girls she'd hate to see
suffer for it, and Van told her if any suffered all would have to, so
that won her consent to keep it quiet."

"Did she say who the two girls were?" asked Janet thoughtfully.

"I don't know," said Becky. "He didn't remember the names, if she did.
Do you know who they were, Janet?"

"The two blind girls, I am disposed to think." Becky laughed.

"What wouldn't Van give to know that."

"You won't tell him," said Janet in alarm.

"Not I." She began smiling, however, till her smile grew into a laugh.

"You're going to do some sly trick, Becky Burdett," exclaimed Janet.

"No, really, I am not," she replied. "I shall simply let matters take
their course. There come some of the girls: I will talk to you later."

But later there was no opportunity, and Janet returned from the meeting
with only the information that she had hoped to gain, and with no new
facts about her now half-forgotten hero.

She hastened to Cordelia's room, which was the meeting place of half a
dozen kindred spirits who gathered there under any pretext. Cordelia
was deep in the mysteries of panuche, but looked up with a welcoming
smile.

"Come right in," she said. "It's most done, and you shall have some.
Doesn't it seem thick enough to you, Lee?"

Lee regarded the bubbling mass critically. "Just a wee, wee bit more
cooking, I think," she pronounced her opinion. "What's the news, Janet?
Where have you been?"

"To a fraternity meeting," returned Janet, tossing aside her hat and
making herself comfortable in a big chair. "Girls, there is a Marian
Austin."

"Ouch!" cried Cordelia. "Janet, you shouldn't make such startling
announcements at critical moments. I nearly burnt myself."

"Have you seen her? How did you find out? What did she say?" came from
different parts of the room.

"I didn't see her, but Becky Burdett knows the Austins well, and she
told me. It was a narrow escape, I tell you, for she gave the whole
thing away to her uncle just as she said she would, and he was furious."

"He hasn't reported us! Oh, Janet!"

"No, she persuaded him not to, though he was on the point of it."

"If ever I meet that girl, I shall be the meekest thing you ever saw,"
said Cordelia, putting the extinguisher over the wick of her alcohol
lamp.

"I shall not," said Janet. "I shall be nice and polite, and shall act
as if it were a mutual understanding that we considered it all a huge
joke."

"Oh, yes, you, for she was quite decent about you, though you were as
bad as any of us. It was just the saving clause of your not voting to
have them stay when they wanted to go."

"I didn't see the need of carrying the war into Africa," replied Janet.
"They had had enough, and really were tired out."

"Suppose they were, don't we get all tired out; and yet we have to go
and go and go, and grind and grind and grind," said Lee in an aggrieved
tone. "They are not worthy of any more consideration than we, and see
how we are treated by the faculty."

Janet laughed. "The faculty indeed. You mean see how we treat
ourselves. I am inclined to think that if we concentrated our minds
upon our studies, we wouldn't have such a terrible amount of grinding
to do. It is the frivolity of the outside world that tires us."

"Oh, me, what a virtuous remark from Janet Ferguson," cried Lee. "Do
they make you have seasons of self-examination at fraternity meetings?
A silent hour, for example, when you are supposed to be thinking
of your sins and your frailties, and instead you spend the time in
thinking how you will have your new hat made?"

Janet smiled. "What nonsense, Lee. I am not such an idiot as to begin
posing for a saint. I was only defending the absent. My, but that
smells good, Cordelia. Is it hard enough yet to eat?"

Cordelia tested her plate of candy by slipping a paper knife under the
edge. "No, not quite," she replied. "I'll set it outside, and it will
be cold in a minute. I've been thinking we might send a formal vote of
thanks to Miss Austin for her consideration to the class of nineteen
hundred and four."

"Do," exclaimed Lee. "I think that would be great. Come over here,
Grace Breitner, and help us with the resolution. The president of the
class proposes that we send a vote of thanks to Miss Marian Austin.
Won't that be a lark? I'll bet she'll take it all right, all right.
Don't you think so, Janet?"

"I believe she will," said Janet. "Let's draw up the resolution and get
the class to approve it to-morrow."

They set themselves to work, and after a short time produced the
following:

  "Resolved, That the class of nineteen hundred and four extend a vote
of thanks to Miss Marian Austin and to Miss Trix Venable for their
consideration in accepting in a proper spirit the attentions of the
above class upon a recent occasion which need not be mentioned, and
furthermore for their kind offices in turning aside the wrath of an
irate uncle."

    [Signed.] "CORDELIA LODGE

              "LEE PENROSE

              "JANET FERGUSON

              "EDNA WAITE

              "GRACE BREITNER."

"We'll get the signatures of all those who were present," said Lee,
"and we'll send it as sure as anything. I believe she is the kind of
girl who will appreciate it."

The others agreed with her, and then they all dispersed to their
different rooms.



CHAPTER VII

THE THANKSGIVING BOX

THAT Marian Austin appreciated the vote of thanks tendered her by
the sophomores was evidenced by the arrival of a box of roses,
corresponding in number to the list of names signed. A card requested
that they be distributed to "the hazers" accompanied it.

The box was addressed to the president of the class, and when Cordelia
opened it in her sanctum, an interested group standing by to watch her,
she exclaimed, "Well, if this isn't heaping coals of fire on our heads,
I don't know the meaning of the expression; red coals, too," she added,
separating one crimson rose from the rest. "I'd like to meet that girl
on an equal footing and tell her that she is—"

"Chief among ten thousand and altogether lovely," put in Lee. "I'm
going to wear my rose."

"I know what Ted will do with hers," said Janet, accepting the rose
which Cordelia held out to her. "You will see it when you go to Latin."

And that she was not wrong in her suspicion was apparent when the girls
saw Edna's rose gracing a tall glass on Miss Drake's table.

Another suspicion to which she did not give voice arose in her mind.
She wondered if the sending of the roses was entirely Miss Austin's
idea, or if the "hero" had not something to do with it. He had begun to
resume his place in her imagination since her recent talk with Becky
Burdett, though Edna had long since ceased to adore at a distance,
being now absorbed in collecting photographs of a certain tenor whom
she had lately heard and who, she declared, was her ideal of all that
was fascinating.

Not long after the episode of the roses, Janet came in one day to find
a card of invitation from Becky Burdett.

"Going, Ted?" she asked, as she threw the card down on the table.

"No, I am afraid I can't," said Edna regretfully. "I've promised to
spend the day with Kathie Steele. She asked me ever so long ago for
the Thanksgiving holidays, but I had that engagement for the game and
wanted to be home on Saturday, so I told her I would come on Friday and
stay all night. Poor Kathie, she did so want to come back to college,
and is dying to hear all about everybody and everything, so it would be
inhuman not to go. She was so disappointed when the doctors told her
that she must not think of returning this year."

"It is something of a trip for one day."

"Yes, but I shall start early and get back by noon Saturday. I
certainly do hate to miss Becky's tea. I suppose you will see all the
frats there."

"Yes, and a lot of other girls."

"Well, good luck go with you. By the way, Janet, Mike says there is a
box for you, and he'll bring it up."

"Good!" cried Janet. "It's from home. Dear momsey, I know she has put
a store of good things in it. Suppose there should be a roast turkey,
Ted. I am going to see about it right away. I can't wait."

She skurried off, returning a few minutes later with the janitor who
bore a large wooden box.

"Will I open it for yez, miss?" he asked.

"Indeed you will, Mike. Have you a hammer or something of that kind
with you?"

"Have I?" Mike chuckled. "I'll not be thravelin' widout it these days
whin the boxes do be cumin' in so stiddy."

Janet and Edna crouched down to watch the operation of opening the box,
and when the last nail had been eased out, and the lid was lifted, they
gave a sigh of satisfaction.

"I just want to gloat one minute before we unpack it," said Janet.
"Doesn't it look moreish? Thank you, Mike. If there's a turkey, you
shall have a drumstick."

Mike gathered himself together, slipped his hammer in his pocket and
went out smiling. He was much interested in these boxes.

"I do hope nothing is broken," said Janet, carefully lifting the cloth
which was neatly tucked around the sides. "Ah, mother has filled in
the chinks with nuts and apples. These are my favorite apples. I know
just the tree on which they grew. I can see Dicky down there gathering
them. What's next? Oh, a lovely, a perfectly lovely chocolate cake. But
Ted, the cloth around it is a little damp. I am afraid something has
spilled. Yes, there is a bottle broken, a bottle of olives. Goodness,
I hope the brine hasn't oozed over everything. Fortunately the cake
was on top and the box can't have been tipped much from the looks of
things."

"There is a turkey!" cried Teddy. "I see its legs sticking out."

"So there is, and it's a beauty. My, doesn't it look good? My mouth
waters so that I can hardly wait to taste it. A lot of the little
cakes, Ted, are soaked with the brine; that's too bad. Here is a glass
of jelly, and what's this? Oh, my dear, it's some of mother's lovely
conserves that she is so chary of. Here is a big tin can. Mother
certainly does know how to pack, if the olive jar did get broken,
for there is scarcely anything hurt. This, Ted, is a can of my dear
Maryland biscuits, and a roll of home-made butter. There, I think that
was a fine box. What a feast we will have with that turkey. I could eat
some this blessed minute. Here, give me my penknife, the big blade,
please. I am going to cut off some. Which will you have, a wing or a
log?"

"I don't care."

"Then, if you don't care, I'll take the drumstick; it isn't considered
so delicate, but there is more on it. We'll stow the rest of the things
away, and the turkey we can put out on the window-sill to keep cool.
Ted, to-morrow night we'll get the girls in and have a regular spread.
Who isn't to be away?"

"Lee Penrose will be here, and Grace Breitner. Cordelia may or she may
not. She is divided between her desire to see the game and her desire
to see her family. Charity wouldn't forego her mother's pumpkin pie for
all the games in Christendom, so she won't be here, and Fay Wingate is
going, too."

"I hope Cordelia will stay; she always has the faculty of keeping away
the blues on a holiday. Let's gather up the stuff, Ted, and get it out
of sight. It's a shame about the little cakes. I hate to lose a morsel
from that box, though I am thankful there is nothing else spoiled."

They tucked away the provisions, rolled the turkey in a paper and put
it outside, and then went off together to Rosalie Trent's where they
were invited to dinner.

The next day being a holiday, the pair concluded to sleep late, and
take a bit of breakfast in their rooms. "A slice of cold turkey, a cup
of coffee, and some home-made biscuits and butter will be all I could
ask," said Janet with satisfaction as she slipped into her kimono. "I
am going to air this room, Ted, for a few minutes, and come in there
with you. I'll set the water boiling first, so we won't have to wait
for our coffee."

She went to the window to raise it, and stood still in consternation.
Then she laughed. "That's a pretty good joke, Ted," she said; "but it's
up to you to produce that turkey before we have our breakfast."

"What are you talking about?" said Edna, putting her head in at the
door of the room where Janet was. "What do I know about the turkey?"

"Oh, nothing, of course. I suppose you'll say Fay Wingate climbed in
over the transom and stole it away for a joke."

"You don't mean to say it isn't here?"

"I mean to say just that."

"Janet Ferguson, I don't believe you. You are just trying to fool me."

"I am not, Teddy Waite. Please don't keep me in suspense. Don't you
really know anything about it?"

Teddy came all the way into the room and looked around as if she
expected to see the turkey suddenly appear from some out of the way
place. "It beats me," she exclaimed. "We put it on the window-sill,
didn't we? I didn't dream it, did I?"

"Dream it, nonsense. We put it there in our sober senses. We wrapped it
up in paper and put it just there. If you really don't know anything
about it, either it has fallen out or some one up-stairs has hooked it
by letting down a line. They have done such things to the other girls."

"I don't believe any one could get it that way. In the first place the
turkey was too heavy to be drawn up by any of the slight hooks and
lines the girls sometimes use for that kind of trick, and then the
window-sill is too broad; besides it was wrapped up. No, it wouldn't be
easy to get hold of it from above. I think it has fallen out."

Both girls craned their necks over the sill and scanned the ground
below. Not a vestige of the turkey was to be seen.

"Well, it's gone," said Janet. "That is all there is about it. No
spread to-night."

"Oh, we don't have to give up the spread," said Edna. "What makes me
mad is to think that some of those wretched freshmen are probably
enjoying our turkey. You know it was rather windy last night, and
anything as roly-poly as a turkey with a leg and wing gone, could
easily roll off the sill. I am positive that is how it disappeared."

They drew in their heads, and were obliged to content themselves with a
more frugal breakfast than they had planned, while the freshmen below
gloried in their find and picked the turkey bones with a zest.

Becky's tea was quite an affair, and as it was one of the few social
events to which Janet had been able to go during her sojourn in the
town, she looked forward to it with some excitement. There had been
numerous minor diversions—drives, luncheons, fraternity teas, and such
like functions, but a big reception, at which would be gathered the
fashionable set, was something as yet outside the experience of this
college girl. She found Becky surrounded by her friends.

Rosalie Trent's was the only other familiar face to Janet. After a few
words with Becky, she retired to the background and looked around the
room. She was smiling to herself when Rosalie came over to her.

"What is the special funny thing?" she asked. "You can't hide that look
of amusement, Janet, and you shall not keep it to yourself."

"I was just thinking," said Janet, "how it reminds me of a chorus of
katydids, or some of those other insects we hear in summer time. Listen
a minute. I don't believe we are a bit more intelligible to a higher
race of invisible beings than the katydids are to us. Is there any
sense to be detached from such incessant chatter?"

Rosalie laughed. "We are a part of it, and what we say to each other
seems fairly intelligent. Perhaps the katydids' talk would be, too, if
we could but understand it. There is some one here Becky wants you to
meet. Just wait here and I'll see if I can bring her over."

She turned away, and presently piloted through the crowd a girl whose
face Janet did not see till she heard Becky's voice saying: "Miss
Marian Austin, Janet. I believe you two have met before."

Then with a nod, Becky stepped back to speak to some lately arrived
guests, and Janet looked up to see Marian's laughing face.

   "Come fill the cup, and in the fire of spring
    Your winter garment of repentance fling,—"

She said gaily. "Each morn a thousand roses brings, you say."

"Yes, but where lives the rose of yesterday?" answered Janet quickly.

"Bright girl," said Marian. "You know your Rubaiyat, I see. What I
meant was that we want you to go to the dining room with us and have a
cup of something."

"I'll take my garment of repentance with me," said Janet. "Those roses
of yesterday were very sweet, Miss Austin. It certainly was a very
lovely way of paying us back."

"Don't thank me entirely for that idea," said Marian. "It was Cousin
Van's. And you don't need any garment of repentance, for you really did
stand up for me."

"Oh, but I was horrid at first."

"That was when you thought we were freshmen, and there was some excuse
for that. Cousin Van said there was."

"What does Cousin Van know about it?" said Rosalie, who had heard the
story.

"He knows all about it, of course," said Marian. "I've wanted to know
you ever since that day," she said, turning again to Janet, "and when
Miss Burdett invited me to this tea, I asked her if there would be a
chance of meeting you. She thought there would be, and told me to come
early so I would not miss you."

"Did you come alone?" asked Rosalie.

"Yes, for auntie couldn't come, and Cousin Minnie is away, you know.
That is why I am staying on."

"Isn't your Cousin Van home for Thanksgiving?"

"No, indeed! He wouldn't miss the big football game for anything, so he
has gone on to Philadelphia. We really don't see him very often, though
he is so near. Auntie says she used to think when he went to college
that he would come home for over Sunday at least twice a month, but if
he comes once he does well. However, this is his last year, and then
he'll have no excuse."

Janet listened interestedly. So this was the reason why "the hero" had
not appeared at church. His college was not the university nearest, but
one further away. She wondered which one, but she would not ask.

Marian continued the subject. "The next thing will be the glee club
concerts, so I suppose we shall not see the young man for the next two
or three weeks anyhow. I wish you girls would come over to see me. With
neither Cousin Minnie nor Van at home, it is rather lonely sometimes.
Of course, I enjoy uncle and auntie, but they have interests that are
not mine. Trix Venable is about the only girl of my own age that I know
very well in town, and she has gone South for the winter. Won't you
come?" she asked wistfully, turning to Janet.

"I shall be delighted to," she said, thinking what an odd turn of
affairs this was.

"I've been here an unconscionable time," said Marian setting down her
chocolate cup, "but you see I have gained my object: I have met you,
Miss Ferguson."

"I feel my garment of repentance weighing very heavily," returned Janet.

"Don't, please don't. It is all over, and really it wasn't a thing for
us to have made such a fuss about. We were in the wrong, so let us say
no more about it. Come soon, both of you. I suppose Friday is the best
day for you. Shall we say next Friday afternoon?"

The two girls agreed, and she left them. Soon after this, Janet and
Rosalie took their departure, but not before Becky had been able to
ask, "Do you like Marian? Isn't she a dear, so sincere and unspoiled."

"She is lovely," returned Janet enthusiastically.

"Do you remember that you charged me with the intention of playing a
trick on you?" said Becky.

"Yes, I do," said Janet.

"Well, this is the trick," returned Becky.

Janet felt rather lonely after she had entered her room and had laid
away her wraps. Edna would not be home till the next day, and there was
the long evening before her. A fine chance for work, she thought, but
it was a holiday, and she had already given her morning hours to hard
study.

"I'll hunt up somebody," she said to herself. "Maybe Cordelia has come
in."

She tapped at Cordelia's door, and found that young person with her
satellite, Lee Penrose.

"I hope I haven't interrupted any confidences," said Janet.

"No, indeed," Cordelia told her. "Come right in. We have been hoping
that some of you others would turn up. Been out, Janet?"

"Yes, to a tea. Becky Burdett's, you know, and girls, who do you
suppose was there?"

"Can't imagine. Any celebrity?"

"No, no one like that. Marian Austin, if you please, and she is just
too dear for anything. I promised to go call on her next Friday."

"You did? Well, of all things," exclaimed Cordelia. "What did she say
about the gym affair?"

"Oh, nothing. She wouldn't let me talk about it."

"Nice girl. Well, Janet, we have some news, too. Professor Gaines is
going to Europe for his health, and in his place we are to have a new
instructor, a young man, if you please, unmarried, rejoicing in the
name of Mark Evans. What do you think of that?"

"I think that is startling. Have you seen him? What is he like? Where
is he from?"

"I haven't seen him and I don't know where he is from; Boston,
probably, or Maine; they turn out a great many from their factories
there. I hope he is good-looking and not too shy."

"He is sure to be shy and not good-looking," declared Janet. "They
wouldn't select any other kind. And he'll be hard as nails, because
he'll be afraid we will try to take advantage of his youth and
inexperience. I pity him, poor soul."

"Oh, you do? I pity us. That's just like you, Janet. You are always
ready to pity anything from a mangy cat or a spider to an erudite
professor. You'll find the one to be pitied is your precious self."

"Allee samee, I don't believe he'll find it an easy berth," persisted
Janet.

"Well, I am sorry enough to give up Professor Gaines. He is such a
well-meaning old soul, and one doesn't have to fight for every inch of
the way in his class. I never heard him say a sarcastic thing in my
life."

"I never heard Professor Satterthwaite say a sarcastic thing, but—"
Janet paused tellingly.

"You may well say 'but.' He doesn't have to say, when he can look. He
emphasizes the saying, 'actions speak louder than words.'"

"I have no doubt the new man will try to be sarcastic. They almost
always do when they are young like that. We may be able to steel
ourselves against weapons of that kind, but the ones who will be hurt
are the ones who will begin by glorifying him, not we."

"Oh, no, not we," chimed in Lee. "We are so superior. We can always
rise above any weakness. Don't be so dead sure, Janet Ferguson. You are
just the one who will want to crawl under the chair some day in sheer
mortification."

"You foolish child," replied Janet. "I'm not such a milksop as to care
whether a man, especially a young man, makes sarcastic speeches or
not. I'd rather he would. I think I'd enjoy them. I hate the meachin'
kind. Come into my room, girls, and I will regale you upon olives and
chocolate cake."

"Rare combination," said Lee.

"Stay here," said Cordelia, "and we'll make a rarebit."

And Janet stayed.



CHAPTER VIII

OFF THE TRACK

THERE was much curiosity on the part of all the girls to see what
manner of man the new instructor would prove to be. That he was
quiet and shy, a little awkward, not good-looking but with a fine
intellectual face, they discovered at their first interview. Later on,
Cordelia remarked that she had tested his powers of sarcasm and had not
found them wanting. Janet announced that he was positively brilliant
when he warmed up to a subject in which he was interested, and Lee
declared that he had a voice that she would go out of her way to listen
to.

"He certainly has the faculty of making one scare up an appearance of
interest in all those dreadful chemical things in the laboratory," said
Janet, "and I find myself possessed with a keenness in searching out
possible results of ill-smelling experiments which I never supposed
I could develop. I may make a brilliant record in chemistry yet, and
astonish you all by the time I have concluded the course."

The others laughed. "You'll have to begin at once then," said Cordelia.
"We have not been impressed by your brilliancy thus far."

As Janet was notoriously negligent in this special study, the remark
was not without point.

"Just wait and see," returned Janet. "I'd begin now if I had not
promised to go out to the golf club with Rosalie."

"What's going on? It's too cold to play golf."

"Nothing is going on, but Rosalie thought it would be rather nice and
cozy to get a cup of tea there, and some of those good little cakes
they serve. We can sit before that big open fire and swop stories, if
we can't do anything else. Rosalie has not seen the new instructor, for
example, for you know she wasn't here to-day. I can tell her all about
him. I shall make him out such a piece of perfection that she'll be
sorry she cut classes."

"Mark, the perfect man," said Lee with the absent expression her face
always wore when she tried to be funny.

"That's good, Lee," said Cordelia. "Let us hope that it can also be
said, 'the end of that man is peace.' I'm afraid it's not likely to be
if he continues to instruct in this college."

"Why, how well you know your Bible," said Lee. "There's some excuse for
my quotations when I am a clergyman's daughter, but I didn't expect it
of you, Cordelia."

"I have a grandmother," said Cordelia concisely.

"Well," said Janet, gathering up her books, "I must go. If I happen to
come across the perfect man, I'll tell him all the nice things you have
been saying about him."

"Yes, we know how much you will," jeered Lee, returning to her books.

Janet sauntered through the corridor stopping, before she entered her
room, to speak to one or two of the girls she knew, and tossed her
books on the divan.

"I am going to take an afternoon off, Ted," she said. "I promised
Rosalie I'd go out to Hilltop with her this afternoon. Marian Austin is
going, too. Don't say anything about it."

"And why not?" asked Teddy, looking up from her work.

"Because they will canvas the thing and talk it threadbare, so I
thought I wouldn't give them the chance. Rosalie and I are going to
call on Marian first, and invite her to go to the club with us."

"Suppose you should encounter 'the hero.'"

"Oh, but I shall not, because he is off somewhere. I took good care to
learn that fact before I promised to go. Anyhow, he wouldn't know me
for he saw only the lower part of my face, and probably has forgotten
how that looked by this time. However, I don't think I should have had
the courage to go to that house again but for one thing."

"And what's that?"

"I couldn't resist the temptation of seeing how that room looks, after
sitting there for nearly an hour."

"I must say that is a temptation," said Teddy appreciatively.

Janet settled her hat and went out. An hour later she was sitting
placidly upon the sofa where, as a blindfolded freshman, she had sat
with Teddy nearly a year before.

"It all sounds very familiar," she confided to Rosalie, "but I miss the
roses. They have carnations to-day instead."

Then Marian appeared, and the call resolved itself into a commonplace
incident.

Marian enthusiastically accepted the invitation to visit Hilltop. "I
have been dying to go there," she said, "but something has always
prevented."

"It's the dearest place," Janet told her. "It is right on top of a
hill, with such a lovely view of the surrounding country from the
windows. I hope you don't mind a little walk, for it is beyond the
terminus of the car line."

"I love to walk," said Marian, nothing daunted.

"We can have a cup of tea and a little chat before it gets dark," said
Rosalie, "but we must start at once."

They went forth, and within the hour were trudging across the fields
and up the hill toward the club house, a picturesque low building
surrounded by porches, and facing west.

"It is later than I thought," said Rosalie with a glance at the gray
sky. "It is cloudy, and the afternoons are short enough on a bright
day."

There were but few in the big low-celled room where a great fire was
burning in the huge fireplace, and the three girls seated themselves
where they could watch the dancing flames, sip their tea, and eat their
cakes. A big collie dog made friends with them and, while they enjoyed
their tea, sat on his haunches with his nose in Janet's lap and his
soft eyes fixed upon her face.

"That's just the way with Janet," said Rosalie; "all the dumb creatures
immediately know by instinct when she is around and come shying
up to her. They know who is fond of them. She stops to pet every
dissipated old cat she sees on the streets, and every stray dog in the
neighborhood follows her home and sits howling after her on the steps
of Hopper Hall till the janitor drives him away."

Janet laughed. "It isn't quite so bad as that, though I do like
beasties, don't I, doggie?" She patted the collie's silky head, and he
responded by laying his paw in her lap.

They lingered till nearly every one had gone, and then started forth to
find it darker than they supposed, and the way rather difficult with
bunkers and wires in the path. But they reached the terminus in time to
see the light of an approaching car bearing down toward them.

"Just in time," said Rosalie cheerfully. "We shall get back in
comfortable time for dinner."

The car came on with a rush, down grade, but with such force as to
cause it to go scudding off the track some yards beyond.

"There!" exclaimed the conductor, "we're in for it."

"Why, what's the matter?" inquired the girls, crowding up.

"Broken the switch. Have to send back for a wrecking car."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Rosalie. "How long will it take?"

"Oh an hour or two before we get it all right again," said the man,
watching the form of the motorman who was putting off down the road as
fast as he could travel.

The girls looked at each other; and, in spite of the dimness, each
could read consternation on the faces of the others.

"We might walk," suggested Marian.

"It is too dark and too far," returned Rosalie. She turned to the
conductor again. "Is there any one around who could go up to the club
and telephone for us?"

"I would," said the man, "but I can't leave this here car."

Rosalie looked back over the way they had just come; it seemed very
dark, and a long distance to the lights twinkling from the club house.

"There's a young man inside," said the conductor; "maybe he'd go to
accommodate you."

Rosalie gathered up her skirts and entered the car. By the glow of the
little stove that heated it, she saw the figure of a young man seated
by the fire.

"Would you take a telephone message to Hilltop Club for me?" she asked.
"I will give you twenty-five cents if you will." She had made a quick
survey of the man, and had decided that his rather rough attire gave
her an excuse for believing that he would not refuse the money. "You
can say that you want to use the telephone for Miss Trent," she went
on. "I would like you to call up Buckley's stables, and ask them to
send us a carriage right away. We must get back to town, and this car
may not go for an hour yet. There is only one other on this route, and
they wait till this gets back before it starts. They run so few in
winter time, you see."

The young man had arisen when she came in. "I shall be very glad to go
for you, miss," he said.

Rosalie opened her purse and handed him a silver quarter.

He gently waved it back. "I am very glad to go," he said. "It is
nothing. I would much rather be walking than be sitting still waiting."

"Oh, but you must take it," insisted Rosalie. "I shall not feel
satisfied unless you do. I should not be willing to have any stranger
do an errand like that for nothing."

In the darkness, she could not see the smile with which the young man
accepted the silver piece which she pressed upon him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and immediately left the car.

Rosalie followed him. "You understand," she said, "that I want the
carriage from Buckley's to come to the end of the line as soon as
possible?"

He lifted his hat saying, "Very well, miss," and walked away.

"You'd better come inside, girls," said Rosalie. "It is warm in the
car and as cold as charity outside, and I do believe it is beginning
to snow. You mustn't stay out there another minute! I've sent for a
carriage."

"You have? How did you send?" asked Janet.

"I found a young man who was willing to go to the club and telephone
to the stable for me. I hope he'll not decide to pocket my twenty-five
cents and then not go near the club."

The three girls entered and warmed themselves by the fire. They seemed
to be the only passengers for this late trip, unless the young man
should return.

"We may have a long wait," said Rosalie, "so we may as well make
ourselves comfortable. What an unlucky thing to happen. I am afraid,
Miss Austin, that you will have an uncomfortable memory of your first
visit to Hilltop."

"Oh, I don't mind in the least," said Marian. "It is quite an
adventure, and I do love anything out of the common, don't you? So long
as we keep warm, it is all right. We're not hungry after the cakes and
tea, so we can stand this for hours yet."

"I'd like it better if it were not dark," said Janet. "Hark, I hear
wheels."

"And I see a light," said Marian.

"It can't be the carriage so soon," declared Rosalie.

"It isn't the carriage, but it is a carriage," said Janet peering out
of the window, "and it is coming the other way. There, it has stopped."

Presently a big man, in a heavy overcoat powdered with snow, came
stamping in. He was followed by a little old woman bundled up in a
blanket shawl. "How soon does this car start?" asked the man of the
conductor, who likewise had taken a seat inside.

"Ask me something easy," was the answer. "We've got to wait for the
wrecking car. Sometimes it's an hour; sometimes it's two. Ye never can
tell."

"Humph! We'll have to make the best of it, Lyddy," said the big man
turning to his wife. "Joe's in a hurry to get back, and we'll jest have
to wait to get home." He let himself down on the seat with a great
grunt, and the little woman slipped into a place beside him.

The girls talked in undertones while the big man questioned the
conductor and made remarks not flattering to the motor man.

After a time the car door opened again, and a meek looking countryman
entered carrying a lantern. "Jest as well wait inside," he remarked
apologetically, setting down his lantern, and brushing the snow from
his coat sleeves. "Got to meet my two gals, comin' up on the six-thirty
car."

"Dear me, it must be getting very late," said Rosalie. "I am getting
uneasy. If that young man went right to the club, the carriage ought
to be here by this time. Do you know anything about that young man I
sent?" she asked the conductor.

"No, miss. He got on just a piece down the road, and said he was going
back to town. I don't know as I ever saw him before, but he looked
respectable."

"You didn't give him no money, did you?" asked the big man listening
interestedly to the conversation, and glad to have a new topic
developed.

"Why, yes," said Rosalie hesitatingly. "I gave him twenty-five cents."

"You did? Well, you ain't likely to see him nor your money again.
There's a good bit of sharpers ready to make what they can offen any
one," said the big man with a chuckle, hitching himself further along.
"I'll bet you don't see him again. What do you bet, Lyddy?" he said
turning to his wife.

"Why, I don't know, Cyrus," she replied timidly.

"Oh, well, just bet to make it lively," he said. "We've got to do
something to keep up our spirits. I say he didn't go and that he won't
come back."

"Then I'll say he did," returned his wife with an air of having done a
rather rash thing.

"What do you say?" asked the big man of the conductor.

"I say he did go. He looked honest," said the conductor.

"You bet with me, don't you?" The big man nodded to Rosalie, who
laughed and replied: "Yes, I say he didn't go."

"And the other young ladies?"

"I say he did," Janet told him.

"And I believe he didn't," Marian decided.

"What do you say?" The big man addressed the countryman who sat where
his lantern cast a glow upon his sharp narrow face.

The countryman was cautious, from the battered hat upon his head to his
thick hide boots. He was not one to commit himself. His caution was
ingrained, and even in such a question as this, he refused to become
involved. He didn't know; he couldn't say. He guessed he wouldn't vote
either way.

"Then it's a tie," decided the big man, hitching himself still nearer
the fire. "I guess you young ladies will find you have got to make your
trip back to town on this car, for I guess you ain't going to see no
carriage this night."

Rosalie sighed, but Janet whispered, "I believe the carriage will come
yet. What did your messenger look like?"

"I couldn't see his face very well," Rosalie told her. "His clothes
were rather rough, but his voice was pleasant, the voice of a
gentleman. I might have thought him one, if he hadn't said 'yes, miss,'
and 'no, miss.'"

Janet laughed. "That's no sign. I've heard lots of men say that.
Virginians almost always do, and some of the Maryland men, especially
those from the lower counties, and you hear it from men of the other
Southern States."

"Oh, dear, suppose he should be a gentleman. Now, I think of it, he
talked like a Southerner."

"If he was, he took your message and will come back and report."

Just then the door opened, and the light of the countryman's lantern
fell upon the figure of a young man with face glowing from the sharp
air, and with clothing snow-sprinkled. He looked around the car from
one to another, then he addressed Rosalie. "Your carriage will be here
soon, I hope. They promised to send one as soon as possible, but they
were all out when I gave the order."

"Oh, thank you," said Rosalie struggling between a desire to laugh and
a feeling of self-reproach.

Janet clutched her spasmodically, and Rosalie turned to see, by the dim
light, confusion and surprise upon her face.

"What's the matter?" she whispered, as the young man took a seat at the
further end of the car.

Janet moved up to the other extreme end and Rosalie followed her.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"Don't you know?" said Janet. "Don't you know? It is Mark, the perfect
man."

Rosalie turned her head quickly and as quickly looked away. "Oh, dear,
what have I done?" she said in distress. "I'll have to drop chemistry,
that is clear."

Janet began to laugh. "I am going over to speak to him."

"I think you are heartless," said Rosalie. "Perhaps he will forget the
name I gave him, and if he never has to encounter me in the lecture
room of the laboratory, he may never know. For pity's sake don't do
anything to make him remember, Janet."

"Oh, but he will, anyhow, and I think it is much better to make a joke
of it, and then invite him to ride home with us."

"Janet Ferguson!"

"Yes, certainly. I think that would be a piece of diplomacy. It would
show our gracious appreciation of his services and give you a chance to
explain."

And before Rosalie could say another word, Janet had crossed the car
and had seated herself by the side of Mr. Evans.

"I don't suppose I could expect you to remember one sophomore among so
many, even in broad daylight, Mr. Evans," she began, "but as I happen
to sit in Bains II two or three times a week, and as I remember you
only too well, I thought I would speak to a companion in misery."

The young man smiled. "It is rather a dubious compliment to be
remembered in the way your words suggest," he said a little awkwardly.
"I do remember your face, but not your name."

"I am Janet Ferguson. I am glad you remember me by my face and not by
my work. My friend, Miss Trent, is covered with confusion because in
the dark, she offered you a reward, so I want you to reassure her or
she will have to drop out of chemistry, from sheer mortification. We
all want you to give us your protecting presence back to town, so won't
you accept a seat in the carriage you were so good as to order?"

"I shall be most happy," returned Mr. Evans.

"There it is now," cried Janet. "I see two lights bobbing along toward
us; they must be carriage lamps."

"I will go and hail it," said Mr. Evans, hastily beating a retreat.

Janet made her way to the other end of the car. "The carriage has come,
girls," she said, "and Mr. Evans is going to see us safely home in it."

The big man grinned as Rosalie passed him. "We lost our bet, didn't
we?" he said.

Rosalie rushed on without saying a word, and was glad that the darkness
prevented any one's observing her hot cheeks.

Mr. Evans gravely handed the trio into the carriage, and then Janet
presented him to her friends. Rosalie faltered out some sort of
apology, and Mr. Evans, now less shy with three girls than with a
single one or with a whole class, laughed.

"I knew you thought me a country bumpkin, and so I am," he said.

"But it was so dark," returned Rosalie.

"Quite a sufficient excuse for any sort of mistake," agreed the young
man. "For all that, there have been times in my life when I might have
been glad enough to take your quarter, though now—"

"No quarter?" cried Janet. "Has it got to come to sword's points, Mr.
Evans? I thought you had forgiven Miss Trent."

They all laughed, and Rosalie said: "Please give it back to me."

"On the whole," returned the young man, "I think that I shall keep it,
if you don't mind."

"No," murmured Rosalie, "I don't mind, but I should like to feel that
you don't mind either."

"Oh, dear, no," returned Mr. Evans. "It has given me a chance of
meeting you young ladies in this very informal way, and I should like a
souvenir of my first adventure in this college town. I appreciate all
that comes to me in that way, I can assure you. I also appreciate your
kindness in offering me a place in your carriage, for I should have had
either a long cold walk, or a very stupid wait, and, to tell you the
truth, I am desperately hungry and want my dinner. I started out for
a walk and thought I would ride back on the hapless car. It is an ill
wind, you know."

"That's a very nice way to put it," said Janet. "I am rather glad of
the adventure myself. One needs them at college, and I have had one or
two."

"Yes, so say we all of us," remarked Rosalie. "What was your college,
Mr. Evans?"

"The old University of Virginia first, then the Johns Hopkins. I took a
post-graduate course at the latter place."

"Then are you from Maryland or Virginia?"

"From neither. I am from North Carolina."

"Oh," said Janet in a satisfied tone, "I said you must be from one of
the Southern States."

"You knew my accent?"

"It wasn't that altogether."

"What then?"

"It was because no one but a Southern man would say 'yes, miss,' and
'no, miss,' as you do."

"I am afraid that is a provincialism that one seldom hears in the
cities."

"But I like it," protested Janet. "I think that courtesy and chivalry
are on the decrease. I think it is a great pity that no one seems to
have time or to care to keep up the beautiful old politeness of our
grandfathers."

"And our grandmothers," put in Mr. Evans.

"Now, you make my conscience smart again, Mr. Evans," said Rosalie.

"There is no occasion for any one's conscience to smart because she has
been both polite and generous," said Mr. Evans gallantly. "Do you stop
here? Then our pleasant drive is over. I shall feel hereafter that I
have at least three friends in this stranger town, and that two of my
students are not unknown to me."

"And now that it is a friend to whom we must account for our work, we
shall struggle doubly hard with all those H O's and things," said Janet.

They parted in gay good humor, and it was a laughing, blushing,
chattering trio that threw aside their hats in Rosalie's room, while no
girls could have been more pleased with an adventure.



CHAPTER IX

CARAMELS AND A CAT

WHEN Janet reached her room the night of her adventure in the car, she
astonished Teddy by the account of her experiences. Both agreed to keep
the whole thing a secret for the sake of Rosalie.

"Although," said Janet, nursing her knees before the heater, "it is
almost too good to keep, and if it were any one else than Rosalie, I
would simply have to tell it. How Cordelia and Lee would enjoy it!
I know I shall laugh when I see Mr. Evans on Tuesday. I shall have
to take a seat very far back in the lecture room, if I don't want to
disgrace myself."

In spite of this declaration, Janet managed to preserve her dignity,
for Mr. Evans's demeanor was such as to win her respect, and she did
not care to bring any special attention upon herself. He had a bow and
a smile for her when she encountered him in going through the corridors
in any of the recitation halls, or when they met upon the street. She
liked him, and became more interested in her work under him, astounding
her intimates by her newly acquired zeal.

"I couldn't have believed it of you," said Lee Penrose. "You really
meant it when you said you would surprise us. I notice that Mr. Evans
gives a kindly eye to you when he has cause to address you. Have you
met him anywhere outside the lecture room?"

"Why, yes," said Janet frankly. "I was in the car with some friends one
day when he got in and I met him then."

"You are a sly boots, Janet Ferguson."

Janet laughed. "I learned in my freshman year that the only way to get
over your fear of lions is to walk fearlessly up to them. I used to
dread the days when we had to go to Professor Satterthwaite, and now
I think he is a dear. I could even tell him so. I find that a little
temerity goes a great ways. It is more to be desired than honey in the
honeycomb, at times, when one is at college. Look at Lallie Patton;
how utterly sweet she is, and yet it all goes for naught. If she would
savor her sweetness with a little rashness, she would have far, far
better marks."

"True, oh queen. Lallie is as inane as soft boiled rice and white
sugar," said Lee. "You couldn't expect any one to be even aware of
her existence; she is so absolutely colorless. I doubt if there is a
professor in the college who knows her by name though he may have met
her in a street car a dozen times, while you—"

"While I, or me—what about me?"

"You have individuality enough for half a dozen. Your likes and
dislikes are certainly decided enough."

"Even when it comes to cats," said Janet with a little smile. "I dare
maintain that I like them. I'm going to the study, Lee. Come along;
we'll find Cordelia and Teddy there."

"Some of those freshmen on the floor above need looking after,"
remarked Cordelia as they entered the study.

"What have they been doing now?" asked Janet depositing her books on a
chair.

"They've been having hilarious times after dark. Their morals need
attention," said Cordelia with a shake of the head.

"What special girls are they who have so wrought upon waking hours?"
asked Janet sitting down and putting her head in Cordelia's lap.

"Marcia Bodine and Jessie Turner, notoriously, though there are others."

"Hm! They have the rooms directly above ours, haven't they, Teddy?"

Teddy nodded without taking her eyes from her book.

"Good," exclaimed Cordelia; "that makes it easy!"

"Why good, and why easy?"

"Lee and I will pay you a visit this evening and then you will find
out. The way some young persons carry on is scan'lous, as Lee says."

"We never carried on in our freshman days, oh no," said Janet
sarcastically.

"We never did in just this way. We confined our frivoling strictly to
foolishness among ourselves. We were merely playful kittens. We never
did this way."

"What way?"

"We never hung out the windows at night and sent notes down, by a
string, to boys below, nor did we allow youths to send boxes of candy
up to us by the same covert means," said Cordelia, "you know we didn't."

"And I know why."

"Then why?"

"Because we didn't get the chance. Do you suppose you, Cordelia Lodge,
or Lee or Fay, or any of us would be above getting hold of a box of
candy in any way that she could?"

"Well, we wouldn't encourage any one to send it to us, you know right
well; but if it came our way without our seeking it, that would be
another thing," said Cordelia; "and that is why," she continued, "I
am glad those reprehensible freshmen have a room directly over yours.
We will put a stop to their receiving candy while we must go without.
We will not go without. Turn down the lights in your room, Janet, and
we'll be along about eight o'clock. Keep a strict watch by the window
and don't let anything pass by."

Lee and Teddy laughed at Cordelia's solemn and impressive manner. Then
the girls turned their attention to grammars and dictionaries to the
exclusion of trivialities.

At eight o'clock that evening, Cordelia tapped at Janet's door and
entered to find the lights out, Teddy and Janet wrapped in golf capes,
and the window open.

"Sh!" warned Janet. "You're just in time. They have sent a note down.
We let it go."

"Of course you would have to do that," Cordelia told her. "You couldn't
intercept a note, much as you might discountenance the sending of it,
but one can waylay supplies. How many youths are down there, Janet?"

"Three, I believe."

"I looked out of our window before I came in," said Lee, "and there
were heads out all along, above and below. I hope that there is no one
under this room who has it borne in upon her to discipline the erring
freshmen."

"No, there is no one there," Cordelia told her. "I took care to see to
that. Irene Thayer and Madge Kittredge have that room, and I gave them
tickets to an organ recital to-night. They were so pleased by my little
attention, and said they doted on organ recitals, so they would be sure
to go. Peep out, Janet, and tell us what you see."

Janet obeyed, but drew in her head almost immediately. "They are
gathered together in a group and seem to be discussing something. I
think they are tying something on the string, but I can't be sure."

"Be ready for it," said Cordelia. "Be sure you don't miss it, whatever
it is."

Janet stood in readiness and presently saw the string begin to move.
The girls above were drawing up their prize slowly. In a moment, a
square white package appeared. Janet grabbed it and drew it in.

"Ah-h," came in disgusted tones from above, but a laugh went up from
below.

Unfastening the string, Janet flung it out again and saw it hurriedly
drawn up. She opened the box and tested its contents.

"Caramels, girls, and very good ones. Help yourselves." She passed the
box around.

"I think," said Cordelia, "that we may as well watch the sequence of
events. The youths may not be discouraged. Let us wait for further
developments. Two boxes of candy are better than one, if one should
prove to be only yellow-jack. They will probably think that we are not
astute enough to believe they will send up a second box, but I think
they will not want to disappoint those abandoned little freshmen.
Remember we are acting in behalf of the powers that be. It is against
all rules to hold clandestine correspondence with the gilded youth of
the city."

"Why gilded youth, in this instance, Cordelia?" asked Janet.

"Because only gilded youth could afford to buy enough candy to satisfy
the appetite of a freshman. Let's shut the window, and regale ourselves
while we wait to see what is coming next."

They fell to and were not long in making way with the box of caramels,
as what four girls cannot do in a short space of time?

"The moving finger writes," whispered Janet. "I see a little white
messenger floating down upon the end of the string."

"Let it go on its mission," said Cordelia. "I really don't care for any
more candy, but the rules of the college must be regarded, and we must
do all that we can to prevent those misguided young women from placing
themselves under the ban of the faculty's displeasure. If they only
knew how we are sacrificing ourselves in their interest, they would
surely show proper gratitude. I suppose every one of us will waken with
a headache and a metallic taste in her mouth after those caramels."

"Answer for yourself, Cordelia," said Lee. "It takes more than one
box of caramels to give me a headache, and I have eaten no more than
quarter of that amount this evening."

After what seemed a very long time, the string began to move again;
this time very slowly as if something weighty were fastened to it.
Janet cautiously opened the window and in a few minutes, a box three
times the size of the first one, appeared. It took but an instant to
secure it. There was a mocking laugh from above and subdued cheers and
cat-calls from below.

"It doesn't feel solid like candy," said Janet. "It has a queer
feeling."

"Don't open it in the dark then," said Edna. "You don't know what trick
they may be playing us."

"Suppose you don't open it at all," suggested Lee.

"Not open it at all? I never in the world could let it go again. What
would you suggest my doing with it, if I don't open it?"

"Oh, just tie it on the string again and let it down."

"No, don't, Janet," interposed Cordelia. "That would be holding direct
communication with the forbidden sex. Our object is to prevent that
very thing. Let us see what it is. We want to know the joke, whatever
it is."

Janet turned up the light and went over to the divan where she
cautiously began to open the box. It was securely tied. "There's
something moving inside," she cried excitedly. "I can't stop to untie
it. Get me a knife or a pair of scissors, somebody, quick."

"No, no," cried Edna; "it might be a snake."

"Or a mouse," said Lee.

"Or a rat," suggested Cordelia.

"Then get out of the way," said Janet calmly, beginning to snip the
cords. Lee and Edna skurried into the next room, but Cordelia stood her
ground. Janet lifted off the cover of the box to disclose a blinking,
winking little kitten that had been quite content to curl up in the
shelter of the box, but that thus suddenly disturbed, looked up into
Janet's face, opened its little pink mouth, and gave utterance to a
very small but plaintive mew.

"You darling!" cried Janet, picking up the small creature and snuggling
it in her neck. "I'd like to keep you, baby kitty. Oh, for a smitchin
of milk."

"I know who has some," said Lee, who, with Edna, had returned as soon
as it was discovered that no terrifying creature was contained in the
box. "Grace Breitner gets a jar of milk every day. She drinks it at
night. The doctor said she must. She will spare a little, I know."

"Do ask her if she will," said Janet. "There's a good child, Lee."

And Lee sped away, returning with the desired milk and with Grace.

"There, kitten," said Lee, "see what the good lady has brought you.
It's right cold, Janet. I'll warm it a little."

"Isn't it a dear," said Janet, stroking the soft gray fur of the little
cat, and watching it admiringly as it delicately lapped the warm milk
and then in a mature way began to wash its face. "Let's adopt it into
the class, girls, for a mascot. Mike will take care of it if we pay
him a little. He can take some milk for it, and he is so kindhearted
that he will be sure to treat it well. We can borrow it then, whenever
any one of us gets homesick and wants something cozy and homelike to
comfort her."

[Illustration: "I SHOULD LIKE TO KEEP YOU, BABY KITTY."]

"That's just what we can do," cried the other girls. "Brilliant
thought, Janet."

"Come here, Mascot," said Lee. "Let me look into your innocent blue
eyes. I shall borrow you whenever I feel myself weakening in my work,
and I shall trust to you to bring me good luck. What are you going to
do with it to-night, Janet?"

"Oh, I'll keep it right here, and let it sleep on the foot of my bed.
I'll take it to Mike in the morning, and I know it will be all right."

The next morning as she was carrying the kitten to Mike's quarters she
met Jessie Turner in the corridor.

"Where did you get your kitten?" asked Jessie with an air of innocence.

"It came in on the night express," said Janet. "Isn't it a darling? I
just adore kittens," she added enthusiastically.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Take it down to Mike to keep for the sophomore class. We are going to
make it our mascot. It will be a real joy to have a kitten to borrow
once in a while. I am so much obliged to whoever sent it, for it was
a lovely surprise, you know. By the way, I wish you would thank your
friends for the excellent caramels they sent us; we enjoyed them so
very much."

Jessie gave rather a sickly smile. "I know one thing," she said. "Next
year we shall be more careful in selecting our room."

"So I would be," returned Janet suavely. "One has such a lot to learn
about everything the first year. One very important thing is to correct
wrong impressions about rules. It is an awful thing to be brought up
before the faculty for misdemeanors, I have heard. I'd advise you to
remember that."

With which parting piece of advice, she nodded to Jessie and continued
her way to the lower floor, leaving the freshman scared and abashed.

Mike readily consented to take charge of the kitten, and scarcely a day
passed but it was borrowed by one sophomore or another, so that its
lines fell in pleasant places.

It was a long time, however, before Janet heard the last of the joke,
for the freshmen, for weeks, made it a point of waylaying her in the
halls and saying: "Miss Ferguson, I hear you have a kitten. How did you
come by it?"

But Janet was finally a match for them, for she would forestall them by
saying: "I hear you freshmen are very fond of caramels; why don't you
get some of your friends to send you some?"

And so at last, the subject of cats and caramels was dropped. In some
way the "gilded youth" were warned not to trust their offerings to so
uncertain a means of transport as a string let down from a window, for
not only did wily sophs lie in wait for them, but there was an added
danger of discovery by persons less ready to keep their counsel than
these same sophs.

However, Janet concluded, after this experience, that life would be a
little more independent if she could give up dormitory life another
year. And one day late in the semester, as she sat with Mascot curled
up in her lap, she remarked to Edna: "Next year I mean to give up
Hopper Hall, and go to a private house. Will you join me, Ted?"

"Why, of course, if you like; or rather, if papa and mamma agree. They
think I am better off here than anywhere else."

"I think it is the best place, too, for the first two years, but see
how the freshmen crowd in, and next year there will be fewer of our
friends than are here now. I think when we become juniors we might
venture out into a lodging or a boarding house. I think we ought to
have all the experiences that are coming to us. Now, suppose instead of
these two rooms, we could each have a bedroom and a common sitting room
with an open fireplace; think how fascinating it would be."

"We'd miss Cordelia and Lee, and all the junketings that go on here,"
returned Edna doubtfully.

"We would, in a measure, but there are only Cordelia and Lee, and two
or three more whom we would care for specially. Maybe we could get
into a house where there would be room for our special crowd, and then
there would be no end of good times. I mean to keep my eyes open for
such a place, and I'll sound the other girls on the subject. Some of
the seniors have lovely rooms outside, and they will be giving them up
another year. I feel that I need an open fireplace more than anything
in life; it is so conducive to thoughtfulness."

"Life isn't entirely made up of open fireplaces," said Edna, bending
forward to tickle Mascot's ear.

"We could take Mascot with us," said Janet. "Think how he would enjoy
an open fire."

"That settles it," said Edna, rising to open the door to a caller.



CHAPTER X

THE HERO

JANET had just received her morning's mail and sat absorbed in her
letters on the steps of the gymnasium. Edna, near her, was looking over
a newspaper from home, when she heard an exclamation from her roommate
which made her put down her paper and look up.

"Oh, Ted, Ted," cried Janet, "what do you suppose will happen next?
If I didn't want so awfully to be at home this summer, I'd accept the
first invitation that would take me away."

"Why, what on earth?" exclaimed Edna.

"You never in the world will guess," replied Janet. "This letter, if
you please, is from Stuart. He says he realizes that his brotherly
attentions have not been overwhelming, and that he hasn't been near me
this year, but he has been awfully busy, athletics and things besides
the regular grinds, but he means to come up for Class Day. Do you
realize, Ted, that it is less than a month off?"

"I'm beginning to, when I think of exams," said Teddy, with a wry face.
"But go on. I am simply dying to hear what the trouble is to make you
feel so desperate. Surely it isn't because your brother Stuart is
coming."

"Heavens, no. Prepare yourself, Ted. He is going to stay at the
Austins'."

Janet leaned forward and emphasized her words with a tap on the steps
with a folded paper.

"For pity's sake, Janet!"

"You may well say, for pity's sake. Isn't it dreadful? It seems that
he met Mr. Van Austin a few months ago, and they have become quite
intimate. Stuart says, furthermore, that Mr. Austin has heard of me
from his Cousin Marian, and is very anxious to meet me. Oh, is he?
Maybe he is, but how about me? Stuart says a lot of the boys are coming
up, but that he and another man are going to stay at the Austins' and
for me to make no engagements, for he expects that we shall all have a
royal time. He wanted to know about you, and said he hoped you would
not have so many engagements that he should not be able to see you. I
am glad there is the third man for Marian."

Edna looked a little conscious, for her visit to Janet the year before
had developed a mild summer flirtation, which, though it had not been
followed up, was of the nature to break out again as opportunity
afforded.

"To think," Janet went on, "that after all this time, fate has ordained
that we three are to meet, and that we shall see 'the hero' at last.
Isn't it too funny? As you value your life, Teddy, don't ever, ever let
him find out that we have met before. Oh, me, how surprised Becky and
Rosalie will be to see us parading around with him. Don't let us tell
them anything about Stuart's coming, not till we can suddenly spring
the surprise upon them."

Edna agreed, and gathering up their belongings, they walked across the
campus to Hopper Hall.

The days sped by rapidly till they brought the last week of the college
year. Examinations over, Class Day's importance became subservient, in
Janet's estimation, to the fact of the meeting with "the hero" and the
popularity which attached itself to a girl with an agreeable brother.

The boys had promised to arrive the evening before Class Day, and
Marian had brought an invitation to dinner from her aunt, so that both
Edna and Janet were in an unusual state of excitement when the evening
came.

"Dear me," said Edna, twisting herself around to look at the back of
her gown, "I feel all in a flurry. Am I all right, Janet? I don't see
why I should get rattled over a little thing like this. How shall you
feel when you meet old Mr. Austin?"

"Like laughing. We must avoid the sofa; it may suggest the relation
between ourselves and a certain former occasion," said Janet, pinning a
fluffy bit of tulle to her collar. "I believe I won't wear this after
all," she continued, throwing down the knot. "Don't you think I look
better in white, Ted?"

Edna laughed. "I'm not the only nervous one, it seems. Yes, by all
means wear white; that gown with the little round neck, I like you in
that. See how free I am from jealousy when I advise you to wear your
most becoming costume."

"It is a good thing we began to dress in time or we should be in a
perfect rush," said Janet, slipping out of the frock she had first put
on. "I want to get there before the boys, though. Have I changed much
in a year and a half, Ted?"

"I should never recognize you for the same person," returned Edna
laughing. "How about me?"

Janet laughed in turn. "Your own parents would not recognize you, so
great is the change in you. We'll trust to the difference in dress and
time to keep our secret."

"But why," said Teddy, after a thoughtful pause, "why are we so bent
upon its being such a dead secret?"

"I don't know," replied Janet, putting the last touches to her toilet,
"I suppose because we began that way, and we can't get out of the
habit."

"There is nothing disgraceful to account for. It was what might have
happened to any one. We didn't do anything very dreadful, and what we
did, we had to do. Suppose they did find out, what of it?"

"Why, nothing, come to think of it. Nothing at all." Janet laughed.
"Aren't we geese to keep up such a mystery and such an excitement over
a matter the importance of which, and the mystery of which, exists
simply in our imaginations? All the same, I cannot get rid of a sort of
surreptitious feeling whenever I go to that house, and I am conscious
this minute of a real necessity of being very secretive. It is foolish,
but it has grown with my growth and strengthened with my strength.
There, I am ready at last."

"Come, sally forth then."

"Isn't it funny," said Janet, when they had arrived, and were waiting
Marian's appearance, "that we haven't the least idea what that young
man looks like, whether he is tall or short, good-looking or ugly.
There will be two of them, Ted; you decide at first glance which you
think is 'the hero' and I will do the same, then we will tell afterward
which one we thought him to be."

They had not long to wait, for presently Marian came in, then Mrs.
Austin. Later Mr. Austin, senior, arrived and was presented. At the
sound of his throaty voice, Janet gave Teddy a sly look.

"Those boys ought to be here," said the gentleman, fidgeting around.
"That clock is three minutes slow. They are due now; in fact they
should have been here ten minutes ago."

"And here they come," said Marian, who had drawn aside the curtain and
was looking down the street. "They are crossing over. I'd know your
brother at a glance," she said, turning to Janet. "Isn't it funny how
it has all turned out? I met you, and your brother met my cousin all
within a few months, and now we all meet together here. I wonder we
didn't know about the common acquaintance before this."

"Stuart is such a wretched correspondent," Janet told her. "He never
tells you any of the things he ought to."

She had hardly concluded her sentence when Mr. Austin, who had trotted
to the door, welcomed the young men. "Here you are, boys. Fourteen
minutes late, Van."

"Lucky it wasn't fifteen." Janet and Edna recognized the hero's voice.
"The train was a little late, dad. All well?"

"All well, and expecting you. Glad to meet you again, Mr. McBride. Mr.
Ferguson, I don't need an introduction to you. Come right in, boys. The
ladies are here." Mr. Austin ushered the young men into the room. Janet
gave a quick glance at all three before she sprang to meet her brother.

"Hello, sis," he cried, hugging her up to him. "Ah, Miss Teddy, glad to
see you." Then Janet found herself confronting a young man of medium
height, not strictly handsome, but with a pleasant face. She decided
that this must be 'the hero,' and was confused when her brother said:
"My friend, Mr. McBride, Janet. My sister, Don."

In her confusion, Janet sought the nearest seat, which happened to be
the fateful sofa. The next moment, Marian approached.

"Cousin Van says no one has had the consideration to present him to
you, Janet. Mr. Van Austin, Miss Ferguson."

Janet glanced up quickly to see a rather tall young man, with
expressive eyes, a humorous mouth, and a nondescript nose. He was
looking down at her with intense amusement on his face.

"May I sit here?" he asked, dropping into a place by her side. "Do you
know, it seems quite as if I ought to find you sitting here where I
first saw you. How many months ago is it? Over a year, I declare."

The color flew up into Janet's face. "You saw me here?" she stammered.

"Why, yes. If I hadn't been certain the moment I saw you, I should have
been when I heard you laugh. The remarkable thing to me is that we
haven't met before, and that I didn't discover your identity long ago
when I know your brother so well."

The secret was out, and Janet began to laugh.

"Then there isn't any use for me to try to deny anything, I suppose.
I confess to being one of the blind girls. The other one is over
there talking to my brother, who has never heard that charming little
incident of our mock initiation and its result."

"I might not have recognized Miss Waite," Mr. Austin confessed, "for
she looks quite different from my recollection of her. You are coming
down to our Class Day, are you not? We have come up to yours, and it
will be only fair."

"I am not sure whether I can come," said Janet doubtfully. "You see,
though yours is a little later than ours, there is always so much
going on here, that it is hard to get away, but I may come to the
Commencement."

"Be sure that you do, for that is the day when I say farewell to my
Alma Mater, and I shall have need of all the support I can receive from
my friends."

"I am sure you ought to have it from me, for I remember that you gave
me very substantial support on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion of
which we were just speaking."

"I think I must have enjoyed that more than you did. Why could I never
got Becky Burdett to tell me anything about you?"

"Because I didn't want her to tell."

"And why? There was no reason why you should have been so very
cautious, was there?"

"No, only it seemed, so—so flabby."

Van laughed. "I've heard Stuart use that word just so, and I like it.
But it wasn't—flabby; it was only funny. I have tried in every way to
corner Becky, but she was too wary. I hope it was not a very great
trial for you to come here this evening."

"No-o, for, when Stuart wrote that he knew you, I knew that there was
no use trying concealment any longer, and so I resigned myself to the
inevitable. If this is your last year at college, you are a senior,
aren't you? Stuart ought to have been, but he was ill, you know, and
had to drop out of college for a whole year. Mr. McBride is what?"

"A senior, and a very bright fellow. We will show you a good time, if
you come down, Miss Janet."

"Then, as I usually go where I am sure of having a good time, I will
promise to come, and then Stuart and I can go home together. I can pick
him up on the way, you see."

"You'll have to take McBride and myself too, then."

"Why, are you going our way?"

"Hasn't Stuart told you that he has promised us all sorts of a good
time down on the bay, and so we shall have the pleasure of going home
with you."

"Lovely," cried Janet, "for I am going to take two girls home with me.
What fun we can have. There is no place like our dear old bay shore."

"In spite of mosquitoes, and days when the whole earth seems to breathe
heat?"

"Ah, you are prejudiced. The mosquitoes aren't half as bad as they are
made out to be; in some places, there are very few; not half as many
as at some resorts to which people flock in summer time. And, unless
one goes to the Maine coast, it is warm anywhere. I remember one of
the hottest, most luridly sultry days I ever spent in my life was at
Cambridge. We simply seethed, stewed, boiled there the day we went out
to Harvard. It is never any hotter at home than that, as you must know,
and the mosquitoes are not so bad."

"Yes, I confess you are right."

"We about live on the water," Janet told him, "and that is one of the
pleasures I miss here."

"And can you sail a boat?"

"Can I? Wait till I get you out in our darling duck of a 'Delight,' and
I will show you."

"I can scarcely wait. Don't you think you could take me this evening?"

"I can if you have a riotous imagination that lets you see the little
inlets and bays, the tall graceful spars, and the dearest little boat
in the world, sitting on the blue water with the summer sky overhead
and—"

"A skipper whom I don't have to imagine. That is a part of it which it
is no effort to keep in mind, and where the dream cannot exceed the
reality."

"What a very nice speech," said Janet lightly. "It is evident that you
have done other things at college besides study—books."

Then the elder Mr. Austin trotted up to remind them that dinner would
be ready in exactly thirty-four minutes, so Van bore his guests off to
their rooms, and Janet turned her attention to the stout gentleman who
made himself very agreeable.

It was at dinner that this individual, after looking at Janet with a
puzzled expression said: "Miss Ferguson reminds me of some one I have
seen. Can you tell me who it is, my dear?" He addressed his wife.

Van smiled, and gave Janet a quizzical glance. "It is Miss Ferguson
herself, father. You have met her before."

"Really?" The old gentleman adjusted his glasses. "I beg your pardon,
my dear young lady, for not recollecting the fact. I suppose my
memory cannot be as good as it once was, or I could not forget such a
pleasure, as the meeting of a charming person like Miss Janet Ferguson."

"Such a gallant speech deserves that I should elucidate," said his son.
"Don't you think I should tell him, Miss Ferguson?" And without waiting
for a reply he said: "In Miss Ferguson and Miss Waite you see the blind
girls whom you were ready to send to the insane asylum."

"Dear me, dear me," the old gentleman began protesting, "that is too
bad, too bad of you, Van."

"What's all this?" asked Stuart. "I haven't heard any tale of this
kind. What have you been up to, Janet?"

Then the whole story came out, and there was much laughter and many
teasing remarks, and afterward all were upon a more familiar footing.

"We are going to have a giddy-gaddy time," Janet told her brother when
she had the opportunity of a few moments' talk with him.

"When and where?"

"This summer. I've asked Rosalie and Edna for part of the summer, and
Cordelia and Lee for the other part. Mamma said I might."

"Well, I can match you, for I am going to have Van and McBride down for
a few weeks. I've promised them all the fishing and sailing they want,
and if I add the society of some pretty girls, I don't see what more
they can want. What larks we can have. How about the fair maid Marian,
why don't you ask her?"

"I have asked her, but she can't come because she is going abroad to
join Miss Minnie Austin. I'd like to have Becky Burdett, but nothing
will persuade her to give up the Maine coast. I want you to meet Becky,
Stuart. She is great."

"Here, here," said the elder Mr. Austin coming up; "this will never do.
We can't allow brothers and sisters to pair off in this way. You can
see enough of your brother at home, Miss Ferguson; we want him to let
us have you this evening."

Janet wondered as she walked back to Hopper Hall if she would ever
forget that June night. Her hero had fulfilled her expectation. He was
a fact, a tangible reality, by whose side she was walking, to whose
voice she was listening.

The summer stretched out into an indefinite number of beautiful days,
and nights like this, when they could float out into the dimness in a
white-winged boat; days when youthful fun and jollity would hasten the
moments along. Her little heart beat fast, and it was well that none
could see the strange new softness which showed in her brown eyes. She
wanted to get off by herself and dream it all over.

She was so quiet, and gave such monosyllabic answers to Teddy's remarks
that the latter wondered, and asked: "What is the matter, Janet? Did
Stuart have any bad news for you?"

"No," answered Janet. "I think I am only tired."

"But we had a perfectly lovely time, didn't we?" said Teddy.

"Lovely," returned Janet.

"Did you guess the right one? Honor bright, now."

"No, I didn't."

"I did," said Teddy triumphantly.

Janet made no reply. She was already in her own room, and was eager for
the silence and the darkness when she might dream her girlish dreams
undisturbed.



CHAPTER XI

PRETTY POLLY PERKINS

"AND the summer is over. Now back again to hard work," sighed Janet as
she sat down wearily after having established her belongings in their
accustomed places. "After all, Ted, I am glad to be back in Hopper
Hall. I verily believe I should be homesick in a new place. I actually
have an affection for these familiar rooms."

"Minus the fireplace?" asked Edna.

"Yes, I even forego the fireplace for the sake of the hominess of it
all. Next year, though, we certainly must try another place, for we
shall not care so much, knowing that we can go home at the end of it.
We can get Juliet Fuller's rooms then, if we want them. With Cordelia
and Lee here, and so many well-known faces about us, I should have felt
like a renegade to have deserted."

"That is exactly the way I felt," returned Edna. "I would have gone
wherever you did, of course, Janet; but I am really better satisfied
here. I like to be acquainted with the hooks in my closet, and to know
just which side of the second drawer of my bureau to jerk when I open
it. We had a good summer, didn't we?"

Janet leaned her arms on the table and looked thoughtfully out of the
window. "Great," she responded. "I don't suppose there will ever be
just such another."

"I don't see why not," returned Edna. "We all promised to meet again in
the same place next year, and we can do the same things over again."

"I have noticed," said Janet, "that there never is any second time.
Things never are exactly the same twice. Something prevents; one cannot
tell precisely what, but even with the same people and the same place,
something creeps in to change it all. There never is any going back.
One can't repeat experiences. There must be something different."

"Oh, most potent, grave, and reverend junior, I don't see why that is
an inevitable rule."

"You will see some day," said Janet. "I prophesy that there will never
be another summer in our experience, just like the one we have just
left behind us."

Edna helped herself delicately from a box of candy which stood open on
the table. "Goodness, Janet, you give me the blues. Do try to chirk
up. If you begin this way, what will you be before the year is out?
I'll go hunt up Mascot; a visit from him will be in order about now."
She popped another chocolate into her mouth and left the room, soon
returning with a sleek and glossy cat in her arms. "Here, take him,"
she said, depositing her burden in Janet's lap. "Did you ever see
anything grow as he has done? He may be a catling, but he is no more a
kitten."

"But isn't he a beauty? So lithe and satiny, and what beautiful amber
eyes he has! Ah, Mascot, old fellow, I surely am glad to see you again,
though you probably have no recollection of me. It would have been a
shame to take him away from the class if we had gone into lodgings,
wouldn't it, Ted?"

"It certainly would. I thought of that. The girls simply howled their
protests last summer when I mentioned the possibility. What shall we do
with him next year, when we leave, Janet?"

"Bequeath him to the incoming freshmen. He can descend down in that way
as long as he is able to stand the strain of his office of comforter."

"Speaking of comforter," said Edna, "have you happened to meet a
freshman named Mary Perkins? She is an acquaintance of a distant
cousin of mine who asked me if I wouldn't give her a nod or a beck or
a wreathed smile once in a while. She has a scholarship, this Miss
Perkins, but is as poor as poverty, and is trying to work her way
through college; that is, she wants to make her expenses over and above
her scholarship."

"We must hunt her up," said Janet. "A girl who works her way through
college deserves all the moral support she can get from upper classmen,
for she will have to endure many snubs, and will have none too easy a
time. Give me a chocolate, Ted, one of those nutty ones. Mascot is so
comfortable, I don't want to disturb him."

"For Sybarites, commend me to cats," said Edna, passing the box of
candy to Janet. "Who's there?" she asked, as a knock was heard.

"Fay, Fay Wingate."

"Come in, my fairy Fay. The idea of any one's ever calling you a grand
old senior, you ridiculous mite," said Janet. "You haven't grown an
inch."

"You didn't expect me to, did you? I didn't promise that I would."

"No, I know you didn't. Have some candy. It's Ted's, but no matter; my
brother bought it for her, so it's all in the family. What's the news,
Fay? Anything exciting going on? What have you been doing?"

"Guying the freshmen."

"Bad child; that was not right. They are our freshmen, I'll have you to
know, and they shall not be abused. What special form did your guying
take? Confess, right now."

"I wasn't hurting the babies."

"Only scaring them to death? I know your methods. Go on, and tell us."

"I only said they must all wear white silk frocks to the junior
reception or they wouldn't be admitted."

"That was horrid of you. You know very well that not one in half a
dozen will have a silk frock, for evening, much less a white silk.
You'll make some of those poor dears rush into frightful extravagances."

"They'll find out it isn't so," said Fay, nonchalantly.

"Maybe, but not before the mischief is done. Go home this minute. You
shall not have another chocolate. We've got to undo your wickedness. We
know of one girl in that class who is trying to work her way through
college, an innocent country maid; probably she is crying her eyes
out now because she thinks she will have to stay at home from our
magnificent function. Go to your room, wicked, malevolent creature, and
meditate upon your sins."

Setting Mascot down, Janet rushed upon Fay, and with Edna's help,
carried her, laughing and struggling, to her room, where they tossed
her upon her bed.

"Such disrespect to a senior," said Fay, too weak with laughter to
rise. "Think if any of those freshmen had seen me, what would they have
thought?"

"I hope they did," returned Janet. "It would be good enough for you.
You are too little to be a senior anyway. I've a mind to spank you."
She stood over her victim looking so determined that Fay began to beg.

"Now, Janet, please. I'll be good, really. I won't do so any more, I
promise."

"See that you don't, then," said Janet pouncing down and beginning to
tickle her.

"Don't, Janet, don't," pleaded Fay, hysterically. "I'll promise
anything. Indeed, I will be good."

And Janet desisted. "Come, Ted," she said; "she has promised not to do
so any more."

"Till the next time," cried Fay, as she quickly sprang up and turned
the key upon the two as they reached the corridor.

"I move we go and hunt up Miss Perkins," said Edna. "Really, Fay's
nonsense may be a serious matter to the poor child. Will you go with me
to find her?"

Janet agreed, and they went to the office together to inquire the
abiding place of Miss Perkins.

"She is at No. 43 Main Street," the registrar told them.

"That's not a long walk," said Edna. "She has a room on the top floor,
Cousin Maria told me; one of those sk-attics, as Lee calls them. I'll
venture to say it is as bare as your hand."

They were not long in finding the house, and were directed to the small
room.

In answer to their knock, some one said: "Come in."

"I am Edna Waite," said Teddy, as the girl she addressed looked up from
her work, "and this is my friend, Miss Janet Ferguson."

The girl pushed her books to one side and came forward. She had wide
innocent blue eyes which were red from crying. Her complexion was like
a rose leaf, and her soft brown hair curled around her forehead and
ears, and was gathered into a heavy coil at the back of her head in a
style that was the least becoming to her. She was dressed plainly and
in poor taste, her clothes being home-made and ill cut.

"Cousin Maria Purviance told me you were here," said Edna, "and I
wanted to meet you."

"Oh, yes, you are Miss Maria's cousin. I am so glad to see you."
The girl spoke timidly, and glanced around her little room for an
unoccupied chair. There were but two in the room, and one stood behind
the table which she had just left.

"I'll sit on the bed or on your trunk," said Janet easily. "They never
do give one enough chairs, do they? Half the time some of us have to
sit on the floor when we go visiting. It's nice and quiet up here,
isn't it? And what a fine view you have. I love to face the western
sky." She spoke cheerfully, leaning forward to look out of the one
window.

"Yes," said Miss Perkins, taking her chair again after seeing her
visitors seated, "it is quiet, almost too quiet sometimes," she added
with a wistful little smile.

"Aren't there other students in the house?"

"Yes, but they are almost all upper classmen or specials."

"I wish you were in our dormitory," said Janet warmly; "we can't
complain of loneliness there, can we, Ted? It is almost too lively."

"It certainly is," agreed Edna. "You would have thought so a while
ago, Miss Perkins, if you could have seen us disciplining one of the
seniors."

"Oh, did you dare?" said Miss Perkins innocently.

Edna laughed. "Of course we dared. She is a mite of a thing, and a
dreadful tease; as full of mischief as possible. What do you suppose
she confessed to us that she had been doing?"

"I'm sure I don't know," returned Miss Perkins, through whose mind ran
all sorts of remarkable possibilities that might be allowed any one so
tremendously important as a senior.

"She had been telling our poor dear freshmen that they couldn't come
to our party unless they were provided with white silk frocks. Such an
absurd notion. I hope they all knew better than to believe her."

"I didn't," returned Miss Perkins with an air of relief.

"Then I'm glad we can disabuse your mind of any such idea. The girls
can wear anything they choose from a calico frock to a sequin robe,"
Edna told her.

"I shall not wear a sequin robe," said Miss Perkins with a dry little
smile. "I am much more likely to wear a calico frock."

"Why not all wear calico frocks," suggested Janet. "Why don't we make a
calico party of it, Ted? I think that would be a scheme. We could have
a spelling bee, and an apple paring, and such old-time sports."

"Let's do it," cried Teddy. "We are on the committee, you see, Miss
Perkins. Janet is chairman, and what she says is likely to go. Don't
you think it would be fun? It certainly would make us all more free and
easy."

"I certainly think it would be a lovely plan," agreed Miss Perkins, her
face beaming.

"You'd look dear in lilac or pink," said Janet, in a friendly tone,
with her head one side, viewing the girl critically. "Do you happen to
have a gown of either of those colors?"

"I have a purple and white percale," said Miss Perkins doubtfully, "but
it isn't new."

"It will do perfectly well," said Janet reassuringly, "with lilac
ribbons and a lilac sunbonnet."

The girl's face fell. "I haven't the ribbons, and—"

"Oh, never mind, I have," said Teddy easily. "On such occasions, we
always borrow from each other anything that comes handy. You must learn
that the first thing. Why, I don't believe I possess a single article,
from a hat-pin to an evening cloak, that some one hasn't wanted to
borrow in the two years I have been here. We'll make the sunbonnet.
Come over to our rooms on Saturday, can't you? I know some one who has
a dear pattern for the cunningest trick of a bonnet; we'll cut it out
and have a sewing-bee. We'll get the stuff for it, for we know where to
go, and you don't."

"But I can't have you do that," protested Miss Perkins.

"Oh, yes, you can."

"Not unless you let me pay for it."

"No, you shall not; for I am going to make the bonnet for myself, and I
will lend it to you for the party."

"I think you are perfectly lovely to me," said Miss Perkins, the tears
coming to her eyes. "You know, perhaps—Miss Maria may have told you
that I am trying to make my expenses, so you can imagine that every
penny means something to me."

"Of course, it does," put in Janet sympathetically. "You don't know
how we admire you for being so brave as to do this way. I'd never in
the world have such courage. I think it is heroic, and I am a regular
hero-worshiper."

Teddy gave her a look, and laughed meaningly, while Janet blushed
scarlet.

"I mean—I—I do admire strength of character," she stammered. "I adore
ambitious people, so I expect you will find me very curious and a great
bore before I get through, but you must know it is because I am so
tremendously interested. Would you mind telling us just what you are
doing, or want to do,—to—to—make your way?"

"Anything," said Miss Perkins, "from sewing on skirt braids, to
teaching German. I do know German," she went on; "it is the one
language I am perfectly familiar with, for in our little village there
is an old German who tinkers watches and clocks. He is really very well
educated, and is quite an odd character. He has talked German with me,
and has given me lessons, and lent me his German books ever since I was
eight years old, so I think I could teach the language."

"Good!" cried Janet. "Perhaps you can get some coaching to do. Ted, who
was it we heard of yesterday that was so dreadfully weak in her German,
and was in despair? Some one of the new girls, I know. O, I remember,
it was Lee Penrose's cousin, Page Carter. I'll see Lee about it this
very day."

"Are you very busy? Are we keeping you?" Edna asked as she noticed Miss
Perkins nervously turning over the papers on her table.

"Oh, no, no," was the reply. "I was just wondering how I could thank
you. I was so lonely and dispirited when you two came in, and now I
feel as if I could accomplish anything. I haven't words to thank you
for coming."

"Never mind the words," said Janet, going over and laying her hand
caressingly on the girl's lovely head. "We are under obligation to you.
Anything as interesting as you are is a perfect boom to a jaded junior.
We really must go, though, for we do not eat the bread of idleness, and
are not exactly lilies of the field."

"You won't forget to come Saturday afternoon," Edna reminded her. "Come
early, and we can have a cup of tea before you must leave; then you can
meet some of our friends."

And they left the lonely girl, their warm spontaneous sympathy showing
itself in the kiss each gave her at parting.

"Isn't she the dearest thing you ever saw?" said Janet when they had
gained the street. "Pretty Polly Perkins; that is just the name for
her. How I should love to take her and dress her up as I pleased. She'd
make a sensation. Did you ever see such a complexion and such blue,
blue violet eyes, and that mop of magnificent hair that she screws up
tight in the most unbecoming way she can. I've got to get my hands on
that girl and teach her to make something of her looks. She was so
perfectly unaffected and frank, too, about her poverty. I am going to
hunt up Lee at once, and ask her to persuade her cousin to have Polly
coach her. I declare, Ted, after all it is good to get back. There are
larger opportunities here than at home."

"We mustn't forget to call a meeting and propose the calico party."

"We must surely do that. It will be one on Fay Wingate, and if for no
other reason, I'd like to put it through on that account."

"I've thought of another thing," said Teddy, after a moment's silence.

"What is that?"

"Why, don't you remember the day Becky Burdett took us to Miss
Thurston's studio, and how she said she had such a time getting the
proper models for her illustrations, and asked if we couldn't find some
one among the students who would be willing to pose for her once in a
while? That was last year, but I don't doubt the need still exists."

"The very thing," said Janet. "We will tell Becky about Pretty Polly
Perkins. It will do the dear little violet-by-a-mossy-stone good in
more ways than one, for Miss Thurston will know just how to costume
her, and when the child sees how lovely she can be made to look, she
will never screw back her hair in that way, and wear that hideous green
and black waist. Oh, Ted, you certainly have thought of the very best
thing."

"But where will she get the clothes to pose in? Miss Thurston wants
modern girls in their proper dress."

"Sure enough; I hadn't thought of that."

"We'll simply have to carry a lot of our things, hats and waists and
such, down there, and explain how it is to Miss Thurston."

"I think we'd better tell Becky. She will find a way. Becky has a
very fertile invention, and she'll know how to manage it. I'm afraid
if Polly thinks the things are ours, it will hurt her blessed little
feelings. I think the clothes would better belong to some one else, and
she can believe them to be Miss Thurston's studio properties."

"That will be the best plan," agreed Edna.

They were not long in seeking out Lee, who, fired by their enthusiasm,
fetched her cousin, and the arrangements were completed then and there,
Janet and Edna promising to notify Miss Perkins of the matter.

"It will be so much better than sewing on skirt braids," said Janet.
"Imagine having to do that, Teddy, for the sake of an education. Hand
me my biology. I shall sit up till midnight to-night, and astonish
every one this semester by my studious habits. By the way, I saw Mr.
Evans this afternoon. He is to be here permanently, he told me. There
is another example of perseverance and devotion to duty. I certainly
have a deep respect for that young man."

"Yes he is not the hero," returned Teddy.

Janet simply raised her eyes, and gave Teddy a reproachful look, and
then fell to work.



CHAPTER XII

A STUDIO TEA

THE calico party was a great success.

Anything sweeter than Pretty Polly Perkins, as every one now called
her, could not be imagined, and when she came in, wearing her lilac
sunbonnet, a little silk work-bag hanging on her arm, and her frock
turned in at the neck to display her beautiful throat, she was, as
Edna said, the loveliest thing in sight. A soft mull fichu hid the
defects of bad fitting, which had at first made Janet despair of any
possibilities of the costume. A knot of lilac ribbon fastening the
fichu, matched the color of the fascinating little sunbonnet which
half concealed, half emphasized the beauty of the girl's face. Janet,
too, had loosened the soft hair, and had piled it up becomingly on
Polly's shapely little head, so that Polly herself was surprised at the
effect. She had been perfectly willing to place herself in the hands of
these juniors who knew so much and were so good to her, but the result
astonished the unsophisticated little lass.

"She is a raving, tearing beauty," said Cordelia, looking at Polly in
astonishment. "Where did you unearth her, Janet?"

"Oh, she is a friend of one of Edna's cousins, and we were asked to be
nice to her."

"Nice to that? To that exquisite bit of humanity? How could any one
help being nice, if she is half as lovely as she looks?"

"She is just as lovable as she appears," Janet told her. "She is an
orphan, and is the pluckiest little thing, in spite of her delicate
little face and her innocent eyes. She has a stepmother, who isn't so
bad, but she is poor, and can't do very much for Polly."

Then she went on to tell of Polly's ambitions, and of how she wanted to
make her way in the world by her own efforts, so Cordelia's sympathies
were enlisted, and before the evening was over, half the junior class
looked upon Polly as a heroine and were prepared to adore her.

The next triumph for the girl was when Becky sent word that she had
seen Miss Thurston and that she would be delighted if the girls could
bring Polly to her, the sooner the better. She needed just such a model
for a set of illustrations she was about to begin. So Janet raced off
to the little bare attic to tell its occupant of this new opportunity.

"Polly, my dear," she said, as she burst into the room, "there are new
fields for you to work in." Then she unfolded her plan.

"Oh, Miss Ferguson," Polly began.

"Janet, please. If I Polly you, you must Janet me."

"Dear Janet, then," said Polly kissing her cheek, "I never heard of
such luck. Will I do? Do you think I look the kind of girl she wants
to suggest? Can I do what she wants? You know I know so little about
anything, and I am so green and awkward."

"Can you sit still for twenty minutes at a time? Can you stand for as
long?"

"What a question. Of course I can do that."

"That is all there is to it. You don't have to stand a tiptoe like a
flying Mercury, nor twist yourself into contortions like a Laocoon.
You simply have to be an ordinary girl under ordinary circumstances
doing ordinary things. I know you have those casts in the Museum in
mind, but you are not an antique, my dear, and are not expected to be
for many years to come. Miss Thurston will probably dress you up in
costumes to suit her subjects, but you won't mind that; it is part
of the requirements of a model, you know; and there will be nothing
objectionable in the whole performance; in fact I should think you
might get considerable fun out of it."

"Oh, I understand all that; and I am willing to wear anything, from a
Greek dress to the most elaborate costume of a modern belle."

"Then you are all right. Good-bye, Pretty Polly Perkins. You'll be 'as
beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen,' like the other Polly
Perkins of Abington Green. Ted and I are going with you, so you won't
be scared at the lay figure and the skull in Miss Thurston's studio.
Friday afternoon, sweetness."

And Janet hastened back to the theme she had left uncompleted in order
to make this visit.

Friday afternoon brought Polly, who appeared promptly in her dowdy
little cloth jacket, ugly plaid skirt and shabby hat.

"Oh, me," said Teddy as she saw her coming, "if we only dared to
furbish her up a bit. Miss Thurston will never see her possibilities in
those clothes. Do you suppose she would object to my lending her a hat?"

"I'm afraid she would," said Janet. "You know how she was about the
sunbonnet, and it was all I could do to get her to wear that fichu of
mine. If we hadn't made an obvious point of borrowing all sorts of
things from one another, she'd never have let us lend her all we did
for the calico party."

"I'll try, anyhow," said Teddy; "she can do no more than refuse."
So when Polly entered, she said coaxingly: "Don't you know, Polly
dear, that is a very unbecoming hat? Please don't be offended at my
mentioning it; Janet and I always tell each other when either wears
anything unbecoming. Won't you let me lend you one of my hats just for
to-day, so Miss Thurston will see you at your best? Janet and I often
exchange in that way. If you will lend me yours, I will lend you mine."

But Polly, who knew that her rusty out-of-date black felt was no match
for the stylish plumed affair that Teddy poised on her hand, said a
little stiffly: "Thank you very much, Teddy, but I prefer to wear my
own hat." Then the red came to her cheeks. "Please don't think I—I am
unappreciative of your kindness. I realize that it is really heroic
for you to offer to appear in my hat, but I am used to it, and I don't
mind, while you couldn't help feeling awkward and queer in it. I should
be unhappy if I allowed you to wear it." Then whimsically: "Besides, I
can't see it when it is on my own head, and if I had it before me on
yours, I'd realize more than ever what a horror it is, and I'd never be
able to put it on again with any tolerance of it. So don't try to make
me any more dissatisfied with it than I am."

"That settles it," said Janet. "You are a dear philosophical thing,
Polly. Come along and never mind your hat."

It is true that Miss Thurston looked a little disappointed when Polly
was presented to her, but when Janet had tweaked off the girl's hat and
Polly had removed her ill-fitting jacket, she smiled appreciatively.

"Do you think I will do?" asked Polly, an anxious expression in her
lovely eyes, for she had been quick to note that first glance of
disapproval.

"Do, my dear? Why, of course," replied Miss Thurston. "If you can
hold your pose well, I shall be more than satisfied. I have a lot of
costumes here and I am sure I can adapt them to your figure. Let me
see." She brought out a hat whose elegance announced that it was the
creation of no ordinary milliner.

Janet recognized it at once as being one of Becky's favorite pieces of
head-gear, and when Miss Thurston set it upon Polly's head both Janet
and Edna exclaimed: "Isn't she too lovely for anything in that?"

Miss Thurston stood off to note the effect. "That is charming," she
declared. "Now, Miss Perkins, just try this on," and she held out a
handsome coat trimmed with bands of fur.

The girls fairly screamed their admiration. "I knew she would look like
a dream in that," said Teddy. "Just look at yourself, Polly. Aren't you
as beautiful as a butterfly?" She pulled Polly toward the long mirror
at the end of the room, and Polly laughed unaffectedly.

"I'm like a peacock," she said. "I'm all right as long as I don't look
below my magnificence. When I look at my dingy old skirt, I feel like a
barn-yard fowl dressed up in peacock's feathers."

Miss Thurston laughed. "Then slip this on," she suggested, handing her
a long cloth skirt, and when Polly had donned it the transformation was
complete. "You'll do beautifully," said the artist in a pleased tone.
"Could you sit for me this afternoon?"

"Why, certainly," replied Polly ingenuously; "I came for that, you
know."

"Then we'll leave her to your tender mercies, Miss Thurston," said
Teddy.

"I'll promise not to tire her out the first hour," said Miss Thurston.
"I will make some rapid sketches first; they will not require a fixed
pose for very long. By the way, couldn't you two stay for a few
minutes, and let me get a group or two? It would help me so much in
finding the proper relation. Have you time?"

"Why, yes," returned the two, looking at each other. "It is Friday, you
know, and there isn't any pressing need for us to hang over our books
all afternoon."

So Polly was soon properly attired, and the three girls spent an hour
in taking various positions, and after this Miss Thurston insisted upon
giving them a cup of tea, so they had quite a jolly time of it.

"I shall give a studio tea soon, and I wish you girls would come
and help me, all three of you," Miss Thurston said in the midst of
their talk. "Becky Burdett is coming, and I thought it would make it
interesting if we all were to wear some sort of costume. What do you
think of that plan?"

"Lovely," cried the girls.

"I have a lot here, you know," said Miss Thurston. "There is a Dutch
dress."

"I'll take that," cried Edna.

"And an Italian peasant costume."

"That will just do for me," said Janet

"It will just about fit you," Miss Thurston told her, as she scanned
her critically. "Then there is a pretty empire gown that will exactly
suit Miss Perkins, and I can take a certain Japanese costume which is
the most comfortable of all and fitted to my more mature years." She
laughed as she spoke, for, in spite of her gray hair and the fact that
she was not young, she seemed in her enthusiasms as eager as a girl.

"What have you for Becky?" asked Janet.

"Oh, Becky can wear a French marquise dress which is gorgeous, and will
be the very thing for her."

"Do hurry up and have it," said Teddy. "I'm just longing to see myself
in one of those queer caps with a pair of bed-springs standing out over
my ears."

"Then hold yourself in readiness for the third Friday of next month,"
said Miss Thurston. "Must you go, girls? I am greatly indebted to you
for bringing Miss Perkins, and for your goodness in posing for me. When
can you come again, Miss Perkins? Now that I have you, I want to hold
on to you."

"Any afternoon, but Thursday."

"Then I shall be glad for awhile if you will come every afternoon
but Thursday. I can forge ahead famously with these illustrations if
you come as often as that. When these are done, I shall want you for
something else, if you have the time to give me. Good-bye. Tell Becky,
if you see her, that I have a thousand things to say to her."

The girls took their departure down a steep stairway and groped their
way out. The elevator was not running. They discovered through later
experience that it seldom was.

"Well, Polly," said Teddy when they had reached the street. "What do
you think of your job?"

"I think it is wonderful," Polly answered. "I was so interested in all
those curious things, and Miss Thurston is so nice that I feel as if I
were in a dream. I did want to go around and examine all those strange
objects she has scattered around in such careless profusion."

"Not so careless as you may suppose," said Janet. "They will become
familiar enough to you before you get through."

"It will be a liberal education to me," said Polly, whose eyes were
bright with excitement. "I never expected to come into contact with
a real artist and to be going every day to a studio. It is perfectly
wonderful to me to suddenly step into such a world." She gave a long
sigh. "How different, how very different from the humdrum life at home.
You girls have opened up a new avenue of pleasure to me. What can I
ever do for you?"

"Just love us a little," replied Janet affectionately slipping her arm
into Polly's. "Isn't it fine about the studio tea? And wasn't it dear
of Miss Thurston to ask us to help her? I shall love to dress up in
that costume and pass around tea and cakes."

"I think," said Polly slowly, "that Miss Thurston must have a beautiful
nature. She couldn't have included me, if she hadn't thought of the
costumes, and so she did it that I might be on an equal footing with
you all in the matter of dress. I know that."

"Why, Polly, what makes you think so?" asked Janet.

"I saw her expression when she first saw me, and after that I noticed
that she seemed to be thinking of something very intently; while we
were drinking tea, it was. I am sure she planned it all out then."

"Well, if she did," said Janet lightly, "it will be ever so much more
fun. Don't feel sensitive about it, Polly, but take the good the gods
send without asking why it was sent."

"Oh, I do that," said Polly happily, "and if I looked for motives, I
should find that all those that inspired my friends were such as I can
only wonder at and be thankful for."

After that, Polly went regularly to Miss Thurston, and one day came
to the girls with glowing cheeks and beaming eyes. She had discovered
another revenue. Mrs. Thurston expected to go abroad and was deficient
in German. When she heard of Polly's familiarity with the language, she
begged that she would combine the work of model with that of teacher,
and so Polly would earn more than double. "I am the luckiest girl that
ever lived," she said.

"And the sweetest," said Janet, kissing her. Janet, it may be said, was
fairly in love with the little country maid, and often said she wished
she could employ her to sit for her. "I'd like nothing better than to
gaze at her by the hour," she told Teddy. "I think I'll turn artist and
have her for a perpetual model."

"As if one could turn artist who has no talent for it," said the
literal Teddy.

But in spite of Polly's luck the girl did not make more than enough for
her expenses, and found it hard to cover those, modest as she tried to
make them. The old black hat and the frayed-at-edges jacket were still
in evidence. Only on the afternoons when she went to Miss Thurston was
Polly a grand lady, in gorgeous street attire, in dainty silken house
gowns, or ravishing evening costume. Once or twice Janet had beheld
her thus transfigured and had come home with a cry against fate for so
allowing Polly's charms to be hidden from the world.

"In proper clothes, the child could make her fortune," she said. "When
I think of creatures like that awful Pauline Robinson with a complexion
like a stable sponge, eyes like boiled onions and a figure like a
round-shouldered beanpole, with all her elegant clothes hung on her, I
can't help railing at fate."

"But consider the awfulness of the spectacle presented by Pauline in
Polly's clothes," said Teddy.

"I can't consider that," said Janet, "it is too terrible to
contemplate."

"Perhaps," said Teddy consolingly, "if Polly were rich, she would be
disagreeable, and vain, and struck up. It's partly her poverty, maybe,
that makes her so lovable. Maybe the discipline is good for her."

"She has been disciplined quite long enough," said Janet
discontentedly. "I think it is time there was some let up to it. Her
character is formed and what's the good of any further privations for
her?"

"At all events," returned Teddy, "she'll look like an angel at Miss
Thurston's tea." And Polly certainly was a bewitching beauty in her
short-waisted empire gown, her lovely fluffy hair piled up on her
shapely head, her round arms and her exquisite throat displayed to
view. Janet, while looking quite in character, did not find her costume
particularly becoming, though Becky was a magnificent marquise, and
Teddy the most rosy-faced plump little Dutch girl possible.

It was when busy, passing around tea and cakes, that Janet saw Van
Austin and his mother come in. At that moment she realized to its full
extent the beauty of Polly, for as soon as Van's eyes fell on the girl,
he stopped short in what he was saying and exclaimed, "What a dream of
beauty that girl is. Who is she, Miss Janet?"

Janet's hand shook a little as she lifted the sugar-tongs to drop a
lump in Van's cup.

"You mean Miss Perkins, don't you?" she said quite evenly. "The girl in
the blue empire gown?"

"Yes, that is the one. Who is she? Where did she come from?"

For a little minute, Janet paused before answering, then she said
bravely: "She is a dear friend of Ted's and mine, one of the loveliest
girls in college. This is her freshman year. She is very young and has
lived in the country all her life, even when she was going to the high
school, for she traveled back and forth from the town to the village.
Shall I present you? I can promise that you will find her as charming
as she looks."

Leading the way to where Polly stood, she said in her most winning
tones: "Polly, dear, I want you to meet my friend Mr. Austin. Tell
him about your funny German teacher, and here, give me those salted
almonds, Mrs. Austin looks as if she would like some."

She left the two together, and for the rest of the afternoon Van had
eyes and ears for no one but Polly. He even begged Miss Thurston to say
that he ought to stay till all the others had left, and excused himself
from going home with his mother by telling her that Miss Thurston
needed him, and it was only when he was fairly driven out that he went.

After this, he followed up the meeting by offering every attention he
could to Polly. He called at her shabby little boarding house. He sent
her huge bunches of violets; he dropped into the studio the afternoons
that he knew she would be there, and though Miss Thurston invariably
sent him away before it was time for Polly to return home, he came
again and again. Polly, happy and dazzled, confided all this to Janet
and received such intense and sympathetic attention to her confession
that she declared Janet was the dearest friend and sweetest confidante
a girl could have.

"Mr. Austin has asked me to go to a concert with him," she told Janet
one day, "and Miss Thurston says she will chaperon us. But oh, Janet,
what have I to wear? I simply cannot let him see me in those shabby
clothes of mine. You know I never have allowed him to go anywhere with
me and he has never seen me in ordinary street dress, for he almost
always meets me at the studio before I have had time to change the
costume in which I have been posing. Then when he has called to see
me, where I live, I have that gray gown that you helped me to make
respectable for house wear and I always can put that on."

"If you would only let me lend you something," said Janet.

"Oh, no, no," protested Polly, "I simply couldn't appear under false
pretenses. You are a dear to offer, but I can't do that; I'd rather
stay at home."

"When is the concert?" asked Janet.

"Next Friday night."

"Well," said Janet, "what have you told him?"

"I said I didn't know whether I could go or not. I felt as if I must
let myself have a little hope, though I knew it was foolish to suppose
I could get up a proper dress by that time. He said I needn't tell him
till the last minute, and that he would drop in on Friday afternoon at
the studio and find out."

"Then there is nearly a week before us. We will try to evolve some sort
of scheme in that time. Don't worry over it, dear child. Run along now
and let me grapple with the problem."

Polly had no sooner left than Teddy entered, her arms full of books.

"Why so sober, Janet?" she asked, plunging the books on a chair.

"I've a weighty problem to solve," Janet told her. "It is this: How can
Polly Perkins provide herself with proper attire for a concert next
Friday when she has not a cent to bless herself with? I am wondering
how fairy godmothers manage such affairs. Not being possessed of a
pumpkin large enough, nor a magic wand, nor six mice and six rats, I
can't seem to settle the question satisfactorily. Do you suppose I
could count on Mascot to furnish the mice and rats? I might get the
pumpkin from home, though, alas, where will I find the magic wand?"

"Who is she going with?" asked Teddy with a little tartness in her tone.

"Mr. Vansant Austin and Miss Thurston."

"Janet, you are the queerest girl I ever saw," exclaimed Teddy. "I
believe you would delight in haircloth and hempen ropes around your
waist, and crosses with stickers all over them to jam against your
chest."

"Do you?" said Janet calmly. "No, Ted, I am not of the stuff martyrs
are made of, but I hope I am a self-respecting, decent, kindly American
woman; that's all."

And then she returned to the German grammar she had flung down when
Polly came in.



CHAPTER XIII

WHAT POLLY WORE

BEFORE the next Friday came around, Janet had solved the problem of
Polly's attire.

"How much do you know about sewing?" she asked Polly abruptly one
morning as she entered the girl's little attic and sat down on the foot
of the bed.

"Why, I don't know," replied Polly doubtfully. "I can sew rather neatly
by hand, and I can run a machine, but I don't know much about cutting
and fitting."

Janet smiled; the latter fact was made so very obvious by the
appearance of Polly's clothes.

"If you can put things together after they are cut out, and can run a
machine, and do all that, I think I see our way clear to get some new
togs for you, if you don't mind their not being bran-new."

Polly sprang to her feet. "What do you mean?"

"Why, just this: Louise Baker has just lost her brother, and is going
into mourning. She isn't at all well off, but she has some pretty
things, for her brother fitted her out for college, and she has made it
known that she would be glad to dispose of some of her clothes. Ted and
I were in there to see her this morning; we each relieved her of some
of her white elephants, and she has more that she would be glad if some
one would take off her hands. She was saying that she couldn't afford
to pay for dressmaking, and wished she could get hold of some one who
would help her with her sewing and take the pay in trade. She wants a
black frock and a couple of shirt-waists right away. She has a pretty
hat and a little tan jacket as good as new, besides a pale blue silk
waist, and one or two other things. So, if you have any time to give
her, now is your chance."

"Oh, Janet, of course I'll do it. I'll make time. If I could manage
to get those things, all I would need would be a skirt and a pair of
gloves."

"Perhaps there will be a way to get those, too. What number gloves do
you wear?"

Polly stretched out her pretty little hand. "I prefer a six, though I
can wear a five and three-quarters, on a pinch."

"Then I can do something for you. I have an unruly pair of light gloves
that seem too small for me. I usually wear a six, but these are very
crampy, and I cannot button them, so if you will take them off my
hands, I shall be delighted. I offered them to Ted, but she has quite
as large a fist as mine, so neither of us can struggle into them. I
shall have to give them to some one else if you don't take them."

"Oh, Janet, I will take them and be thankful. It is so good of you to
be always looking out for my interests. I will sew on any amount of
skirt braids in exchange for the gloves."

"My dearest Polly, don't always be so eager to pay off scores. I don't
think it is friendly of you never to let me make you the smallest
present. Just this once let it go. You never do allow me the pleasure
of giving. I think you might take a pair of misfit gloves without
insisting upon paying for them." Janet spoke in quite an injured tone
and Polly gave in.

"I will then, if you feel that way. I suppose I am a little stiff
about accepting favors, but when I can't return them, it makes me feel
uncomfortable to be under any great obligations."

"You are usually exactly right about it, but in this case I think you
needn't fear you will lose your self-respect. Come along and let us go
to the clothes sale. Of course only a few of the girls know what Louise
is doing, and they are the loyal ones who will not let it leak out. Get
ready and I will wait for you."

Janet arose and went over to Polly's modest little book-shelf. "Why
Polly Perkins," she exclaimed, "what are you doing with two sets of
Browning when I haven't even one? You extravagant wretch, no wonder you
haven't a cent for giddy clothes."

"You don't suppose I am such a reckless creature as all that," returned
Polly. "It isn't my fault, I assure you. I have an absent-minded, as
well as an absent-bodied, old uncle who usually sends me books at
Christmas. He never remembers my existence at any other time or in any
other way. Last year he sent me a set of Browning, and this year he
duplicated it. It was funny but very provoking when there are so many
books I should have been delighted to have."

Janet took down one of the little volumes and looked over the pages.
"Just the edition I want," she said.

"Then please take it," said Polly eagerly. "I should love to give it to
you, for you see it is no use to me."

"I'll give you six dollars for it," said Janet. "I will not take it for
nothing. I can be proud, too, Mary Singleton Perkins."

"Oh, Janet, you are just saying that."

"Just saying it? Of course I am. Don't you suppose I know a bargain
when I see it? I'd have to pay more than that for a new set, and I have
been simply dying for one. Will you take me up?"

"Won't you please take it as a gift?"

"No, I will not. I will go down street this very afternoon and waste my
substance upon a set just like this for which I shall have to pay at
least two dollars more. Then the next time you come to my room you will
be reproached by seeing how I have had to spend my money."

"Janet, you are the most wheedling person I ever saw when you want to
accomplish a thing. Of course if that is the way you look at it, I
shall be only too glad to let you have the set."

"I ought really to give you full value," said Janet, "for these books
are perfectly new."

"No, no. Please let me have that grain of satisfaction. I think you
ought to allow me such crumbs of comfort as I can pick up after all you
have done for me."

"All right then. Six dollars, going, going, gone to Janet Ferguson."
And Janet drew the box from the shelves and took it under her arm. "Oh,
how proud I feel," she said. "Stuart gave me the money to get a set for
my birthday and I recklessly spent the money. He'd rake me over the
coals if he happened to come up and should find I hadn't it. So now I
can face him with a clear conscience, and am two dollars to the better,
the two dollars that you ought to have."

"Janet!"

"Well, it is so. You might have put up a notice on the bulletin-board
and some one might have given you eight dollars."

"Please, please, don't say any more about it, as you love me. I really
believe I can afford the skirt now. Could I get any sort of one for
five or six dollars?"

"This time of year I think you could, with all the bargain sales
going on. Shall we go to town together and see what we can do? I am a
magnificent bargain hunter, as witness my latest transaction."

"I'd be so relieved if you would go with me. I don't know a thing about
the city shops, not having occasion to visit them very often." She
stopped to gather up a large bunch of violets which stood in a glass on
the table. "Won't you let me give you these?" she said wistfully.

Janet shrank back and held her box of books in both hands. "No, oh, no,
thank you," she said nervously. "I wouldn't rob you. I couldn't carry
them, you see."

"I can carry them for you. Please take them. I'd love to give them to
you."

"Oh, no, no," Janet protested, backing toward the door. "I shall not be
at home to enjoy them. I am going to Becky's to dinner."

"But you could wear them."

"No, no. They wouldn't look well with my dress. I am going to wear red."

She bolted out the door and ran down the stairs leaving Polly to
follow. The latter restored the violets to the glass and went down
after Janet, a disappointed look on her face.

Janet chattered excitedly all the way to Hopper Hall, deposited her
purchase upon her shelves and then proposed that they should go at once
to Louise Baker's room. They found Louise at home and Janet at once
unfolded her plan.

"I announce myself as agent," she began. "Polly here, sighs for a hat
and jacket, only something exactly like those lying on the bed will do,
and you, Louise, sigh for nimble fingers to help you with your sewing.
Now, proceed to swop—My part in the matter is done."

"I'd be delighted," said Louise. "What a girl you are, Janet. I never
dreamed you would be so quick in carrying out that plan. I don't know
any one else so fertile in devising ways and means. I believe you would
make a wonderful general."

"Then on general principles, let us proceed to clinch the bargain."

Polly groaned. "That is unworthy of you, Janet. Such a dreadful pun as
that. Miss Baker, do you really want some one to help you?"

"Indeed I do, most decidedly. It seems a perfect mountain to me. Are
you willing to exchange time for attire?"

"Just at this time nothing would please me more."

"That brown velvet hat," suggested Janet, "and the tan coat, Louise.
I think they would be just the things for Polly. The coat isn't
tightfitting and the hat is all right. You know they were the things
you said nobody seemed to want because every one was supplied. And what
about the blue silk waist? Is that still in the market?"

"It is still on my hands," Louise told her, producing the articles,
which Polly tried on to her own and the others' satisfaction.

"Take them right along," said Louise generously. "All my customers are
buying on time. I want the room these take up and I want the girls to
have the good of the things before the season is over."

This matter settled, Polly agreed to give her Saturdays, and any other
spare time she might have, to Louise till a certain amount of work
should be done, and they parted in mutual content. Then Janet bore
Polly off to hunt up a proper skirt and returned home, tired out, but
well satisfied with what had been accomplished.

She sought out Teddy and with great pride told of her success in
providing Polly with proper raiment.

But Teddy answered savagely, "I wish you had never seen Polly Perkins."

"Why Teddy Waite," exclaimed Janet. But her color heightened and she
bit her lip.

"Yes, I do," declared Teddy, "and how you can do everything in your
power to make her attractive to Van Austin passes my comprehension.
After all his devotion to you last summer; all those moonlight sails,
those walks and drives, all those glances and low tones and followings
of you around, I don't see how you can endure Polly."

Janet sat gravely gazing off into vacancy. She knew it was very true
that there had been cause for her to believe that Van Austin's devotion
meant more than a summer flirtation.

"To think you are so loyal and noble a friend to that girl, and she
repays you by stealing—"

"Stop," Janet raised her hand. "Don't get into heroics, Ted. In the
first place, Polly hasn't an idea of all that, and in the second place,
I am not noble. I came as near as anything to allowing the opportunity
to pass. It flashed across my mind as soon as I heard that Louise
wanted to dispose of those things, and I said to myself, 'This is
Polly's chance,' but I didn't mean to tell her. I thought I would let
her find it out, if there was any way for her to, and if not, I would
let it go. Then I thought of that line of Emerson's: 'What does not
come to us is not ours.' If that did not come to me—naturally come to
me, it wasn't mine. If I should allow myself to struggle for it, and
should appear to have secured it, still it would not be mine. It has
come to Polly. She has made no effort to secure it. It is hers. I have
no right to it."

"Janet Ferguson, that is all nonsense. If you had not made it possible
for Polly, it would not have come to her. Of course if one doesn't make
the slightest effort to keep a thing, it is likely to slip from her.
You simply stepped aside and let Polly have a clean sweep."

"It wasn't quite as you imagine it," said Janet. "When you discover
that a hero is simply an every-day, ordinary man, who can be
vacillating and inconstant, he loses his starry crown and you find
that instead of worshiping something that actually exists you have
been worshiping an ideal, and the hero is merely a creation of your
own imagination, not flesh and blood but an accumulation of dreams and
illusions. When you learn that an echo is merely the rebounding of the
sound of your own voice why—" She shrugged her shoulders expressively
and was silent.

Teddy sat looking at her gravely. She wondered how much of this was a
real philosophy and how much was meant only to cover real feeling.

"Besides," Janet went on, "if it were all so, if I really did care,
what sort of woman would I be to deprive that lovely child of the
things which she has a right to? She has endured poverty and privation;
I have always had comforts and luxuries. Her life has been a struggle;
she has had to pinch and screw and contrive, and I have never had to
think of real economies. What would I be worth if when this good thing
came her way, I should stand in the path and prevent her from having
it?"

"But suppose," said the practical Teddy, "suppose Van Austin should be
no truer to her than to you?"

Janet compressed her lips and her eyes flashed. "Then he is so far
removed from a hero that I could wish to see him dashed down to the
nethermost regions of misery. But seriously, Ted, I don't believe that
of him. I think he only thought he was in love with me, but that this
is the real thing, and I shall do all I can to further her interests
and his, and you must, too, if you love me."

The tears sprang to Teddy's eyes. She Was not demonstrative, but she
laid her cheek against Janet's dark hair.

"Janet, dear," she said, "I have known you for over five years, but
I never before discovered what is really in you. I couldn't be as
unselfish as you. I would be like most other girls and would want to
spite both of those two. I couldn't forget myself."

"But I am not forgetting myself," said Janet. "I am remembering myself
all the time; that's just it. Don't make a saint of me, Ted."

An hour later, when Teddy had finished her work and was about to go to
bed, she stole to Janet's door to see if she were still up. She beheld
her sitting at her writing table, her head resting on her arms, her
whole attitude one of weariness and dejection. Teddy stole back to her
room very softly and shook her fist at some invisible person.

"Oh, you fiend," she whispered, "I could flay you alive."

It was a day or two after this that Cordelia, commenting upon Polly,
brought troubled thoughts to Janet.

"How is pretty Polly Perkins going to get through her mid-year's
creditably," said Cordelia, "if she spends so much of her time on
outside things? It is as much as any of us can do to pull through
without dancing off to studios every afternoon and spending all our
Saturdays in sewing for other people."

"Polly has to do it; you know that, Cordelia," protested Janet. "She
couldn't make expenses, you well know, if she didn't do such things.
She makes the greater part of her money by going to Miss Thurston's
studio."

"I know that, and Miss Thurston is all right, but why these Saturday
sewing bees?"

"To pay for the things she got from Louise Baker, if you must know."

"I wonder if you are not spoiling Polly," said Cordelia thoughtfully.
"I saw her at the concert Friday night with that Mr. Austin who used to
come here sometimes on Friday evenings to see you. She certainly looked
like a dream, but she is thinner than she was and her eyes are getting
too big for her face. She is doing too much, and is working too hard
for the things that she didn't care for when she first came. Aren't
you afraid you will arouse an ambition which will make her restless
and unhappy when she goes home and can have none of the things she is
growing to depend upon? If she has to struggle through college, and
doesn't have you for the last years of it, to think up ways and means
for her, what will she amount to? And if she makes clothes the great
desideratum, how is she to make her studying tell?"

"To hear you talk, Cordelia Lodge," said Janet, with some asperity,
"one would suppose that poor little Polly had suddenly developed an
inordinate love of dress and that she was wasting her time and her
substance on the most expensive and gorgeous attire, when all the poor
little child wants is to appear as respectably clad as her classmates.
I think it is a shame to grudge her that. You would consider the
costume she wore the other night as too plain to wear on such an
occasion; a second-hand hat and coat, and a cheap skirt. I don't see
what makes you talk so."

"Oh, don't get huffy," said Cordelia, still dissatisfied. "I can't help
it. She was twice as interesting in her old clothes, I think. Now that
she is like everybody else, one ceases to consider her a heroine, and
she'll not receive half the consideration that she did from most of the
girls."

"Well, she may be less interesting to you," returned Janet, "but she
is certainly more interesting to some one else, and that is the great
point."

"You mean Mr. Austin?"

Janet nodded an affirmative.

"Oh well, if it is college versus a man, I have nothing more to say.
If that is a matter of the first importance, good-bye honors and a
good college record. Why can't she wait till she is through college
before she thinks of such things? She is young enough, goodness knows.
Besides, Van Austin is the kind to have any number of affairs, and
what if she wastes all her year over him and comes back to find he has
another affair on hand? It will probably make her so miserable that she
can't do herself justice in her classes and then where is the benefit
of college to her?"

"I don't think Polly's college record will suffer," said Janet stiffly.

Nevertheless, she began to feel anxious about her little protégé,
and the next time she saw her, she declared that Louise's sewing was
completed and the bargain closed. She did not say that she had borne
off the unfinished garments and had herself sewed upon them late at
night, long after Teddy was in bed and asleep. Nor did Louise know that
it was Janet and not Polly who put the finishing touches to the work.
Even Teddy did not find it out, for Janet meant that she should not.

"You must get the roses back into your cheeks," she said to Polly. "You
are too pale for a country girl. Are you working very hard, Polly?
Don't do it, dear."

The blue eyes which met Janet's, had shadowy circles around them, but
the girl's face wore a happy expression. "I don't believe the hard work
hurts me," she said in her slow, sweet voice, "for I have so much play;
more good times than I ever had in my life. I think when things balance
that way, it is all right, don't you?"

"Perhaps," said Janet thoughtfully. "I don't want you to break-down,
Polly, neither do I want you to fall behind in your college work."

Polly put her arms around her friend and laid her head on her shoulder.
"I'd do anything to please you, dear princess," she said. "You haven't
been to the studio for ages. I am going to tote you there some day and
dress you up in some of those gorgeous costumes that will show you off.
I'd like Mr. Austin to see you look as beautiful as I know you can
look."

Janet's arm, which had enfolded Polly, fell to her side.

"Nonsense!" she said sharply. "The days are past when I would do such a
foolish thing. I liked to parade around in my mother's gowns and shawls
when I was a youngster, but I hope I am beyond dressing up for the mere
looks of the thing."

"But I do it."

"Not simply to show off, but as a duty. There is a vast difference
between tweedledum and tweedledee. I am not thinking of looks these
days, but of books."

Polly looked thoughtful. "I never used to think of looks at all," she
said. "I was brought up to think it wrong, but I am afraid I do think
about them since I have been going to the studio. It isn't right, is
it, Janet? One ought not to make trade of one's looks, nor consider
them above more lasting things."

"No," replied Janet uncompromisingly. "Character first; that is
lasting, the other is only superficial. I don't want you to grow vain,
Polly. I should feel that I had lost you, if you were to disappoint me
in that way."

"And this after I have encouraged the child to look her best!" said
Janet to herself as she walked home. "I, who have told her that it was
every woman's duty to make herself attractive; I, who have given her to
eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, to bewilder her by these
contradictory speeches. What will she think of me?"

But the next morning, Polly appeared with her hair screwed back in the
old fashion, and in her most unbecoming of shabby gowns. At sight of
her, Janet smiled sadly.

"The dear child," she said to herself, "she did it because she thought
it would please me. I will not interfere. If she presents herself to
Van Austin in that gear and he loves her in spite of it, I will believe
he is in earnest."

The very next day she mot Polly and Van on the main thoroughfare, going
to the studio. Van had his arms full of parcels and Polly wore her old
hat and jacket, but both were laughing and talking happily, and as
Janet came up, Van gave her a beaming smile, and a nod.

"I can't take off my hat," he said, "or I'll drop some of these
precious things. We're going to have tea in the studio."

"You'd better come and join us," said Polly.

Janet pleaded an engagement and hurried on. Van had been put to the
test; he had not flinched and Janet was satisfied.



CHAPTER XIV

DRAMATICS

THE mid-year examinations over, there was less strain upon the girls in
all the classes, and the juniors began to think of the dramatics which
they had planned to give the freshmen. Janet was cast for a prominent
part requiring gorgeous costuming, and Polly was delighted. Lee Penrose
as a saucy soubrette and Cordelia as leading lady were immensely
interested. Girls, with suggestive-looking papers in their hands, were
seen at odd times, pacing corridors or haunting corners, their lips
moving silently and a far-away look in their eyes.

The sophomores had expressed their determination of being present and
the juniors were equally determined that they should not get in.

"I am equal to charging upon them with a truncheon, whatever that is,"
said Lee. "Imagine looking up at a telling moment and seeing Jessie
Turner grinning at you. No, girls, we must move heaven and earth to
keep them out."

"Fancy trying to keep your mind on the variety of manly attitudes you
must assume and battle with sophomores at the same time," said Grace
Breitner who was cast for the part of the heroine's lover. "I'll never
be able to make love to you properly, Cordelia, if I must fill my head
with a dread of sophs. It's all I can do to stride and frown and cry,
'Hold sirrah,' as I should."

"Well, we won't call upon you, Grace," Lee assured her. "We, of the
gentler sex, will protect ourselves. They'll not get in by the stage
door, that's one thing certain."

"They'll not get in at all," declared Cordelia emphatically. "Where's
Alphonso's doublet, Lee? I put it in this window box and it isn't here."

"Oh, I took it out," Lee told her. "I wanted to put in the fairy's
dress, and the doublet crushed it, so I hung it up in my closet with
the cap and the old monk's costume."

"You will call him a monk," protested Cordelia. "He is a minstrel."

"Well, he looks like a monk, or rather she looks like a monkess in that
cloak."

"More like a monkey," put in Pen Robbins to whose lot it fell to play
the part of minstrel. "I know I shall forget to sing the half of those
lines extolling Alphonso's doughty deeds, as it is, and if I catch a
sight of a single soph, I know I shall be a goner."

"Oh, you masculines make me tired," said Lee. "You haven't any of you
the spirit of a canary bird, from the king down to the page who says,
'the knight is without.'"

"I always thought that was a silly speech," said Janet. "At eight
o'clock, of course the night is without, and within, too, for that
matter. I should say: 'Sir Belidor is without.'"

"I've learned it the other way," complained Nettie Slingluff, "and I'll
have to say it so. I'd be sure to forget at the last minute if you mix
me up."

"Nettie has three whole speeches to make," said Lee chidingly. "You
forget that, Janet, and the shortest of them is not less than three
words in length. I am surprised that you should want to burden her
over-taxed brain with any alterations at this late moment."

Nettie pouted, but maintained that it was all very well for those girls
who were to wear costumes familiar to them, but if they had on clothes
which made them feel that they were not acquainted with themselves,
perhaps they would not be so ready to make fun. "If I had to be a girl,
I shouldn't be afraid," she declared.

"Well, take my part, I'm willing," said Lee.

But Nettie said it was too late, and every one laughed, for only Lee
could do justice to the character which had been especially created for
her.

Janet, as the beautiful princess, looked regal, Teddy declared, when
she donned her trailing robes and appeared at Cordelia's door to
display herself. "Is this ermine all right?" she asked. "I had to dab
on those black splashes in such a hurry, that I'm afraid they are not
very even."

"Oh, they'll do," said Cordelia, looking her over critically. "It looks
very erminish, Janet; no one would suspect it to be canton-flannel and
black paint. That train is stunning. You extravagant creature to buy
all that velvet stuff!"

"It is only velveteen," said Janet. "I bought it 'on a bargain,' as
Dicky says, and I can use it next winter for a gown if I want to; that
is why I chose blue. Wasn't Miss Thurston dear to lend me this gorgeous
brocade skirt and the bodice and all these jewelly things? Polly told
her what I lacked and she offered these."

"It was good of her, and you are dazzling," said Lee. "I declare,
Janet, you will outshine us all. But then you ought, being a princess.
The king will have reason to be proud of his daughter. He has a
beautiful canton-flannel robe made from his red portières, and he spent
half the night in gilding his crown and sceptre. By the way, Janet,
send over your fur rug in the morning; we shall want all the rugs we
can get for the dais and the throne. Cordelia has thought of some fine
local hits. She evolved them in bed this morning, and the minstrel is
going to get them off. I wish you could see his lute. Isn't it fine to
have some one in the class who can sing as well as Pen does?"

"I do hope it will all turn out well," said Janet. "I am getting a
trifle anxious about my part."

"Oh, you needn't worry," Lee assured her; "you are all right, and I
don't believe I shall have stage fright, but if Grace gets to laughing
and forgets her stride, or if Nettie should happen to get her words
hind part before, it would be fatal. I really think we should have
given Nettie something easier," Lee added teasingly. "It would simply
stop the whole performance if she were to announce 'without is the
knight,' instead of 'the knight is without,' or if she should say:
'Your Majesty, a minstrel begs admittance, instead of a minstrel craves
entrance, Your Majesty.' It actually makes my heart stand still when I
think of such a catastrophe as that."

"Oh, do stop your teasing, Lee," said Cordelia. "I have my doubts about
the wearing quality of this stuff; it is so thin it looks to me as if
it might give out at a critical moment."

"Stay it with something strong around the armholes," suggested Janet,
"that will make it all right. Gracious, there comes Mrs. Satterthwaite
and Rosalie; I shall have to run." And gathering up her long train, she
flew from the room.

A few days later, all was ready for the performance. It was to take
place in the central hall of the main college building. This hall was
open to the roof with galleries around the second and third floors
overlooking the hall below. Upon the third floor were the studios for
the use of the art classes, and on the second were various lecture
rooms. The studios were usually vacated after two o'clock, but were
open in case a student might elect to work there upon any special
drawing.

On the afternoon of the day when the dramatics were to take place,
a sophomore entered the building casually, and sauntered up to the
studios by way of the stairway outside the large hall. In a little
while, a second sophomore appeared and wended her way up-stairs. She
carried a canvas in her hand and no one thought it anything unusual to
see her there. Later on, the dress rehearsal took place, and the big
hall was the scene of "confusion and creature complaint" as Lee said.

When all had assembled, Cordelia locked the outside door, and laid the
key confidently upon the dais where the king was already enthroned.

"There," she exclaimed. "I'd like to see any one get in now."

The rehearsal went on till nearly dark. Then the girls filed out,
Cordelia remaining till the last. When the door closed after the entire
company, she called the janitor.

"Whiting," she said, "here are the keys. There is not a soul in this
building but ourselves. Be sure that you lock the door after me. It is
not to be opened again till it is time to admit the audience. We will
come in by the basement, so be on hand to let us in by half-past six.
No one is to be admitted at the front door till half-past seven, and
then only those who have tickets. Remember this. The performers will
all come in a body, so you will know that any one pretending to have a
right here after we come, has to be sent away. Not another soul is to
come in by the basement, mind."

Whiting grinned and promised to have a sharp eye for intruders.

Meantime the studios were occupied by a body of whispering, giggling
girls, who, one by one, had quietly stolen up-stairs, unnoticed, each
one bearing an innocent-looking color-box or roll of drawing paper.
At six o'clock, each drew forth from one of these receptacles a
substantial lunch which was eaten with a relish, and with the satisfied
feeling which always follows a deed well done. There was absolute
silence in the hall below, and save for the footsteps of Whiting as he
went around lighting up, there appeared to be no sound in the building
until the fifteen girls trooped up the basement stairs and with
bustling excitement crossed over to the green-room.

Cordelia was triumphant. They had outwitted the sophs, she declared,
and by their vigilance, the juniors had prevented the threatened
intrusion.

At eight o'clock all was ready. Nettie Slingluff was declaring that she
had a nervous chill. The king was expostulating with Alphonso because
the latter insisted upon turning the royal robes upon their wrong
side. Janet was jingling her chains and jeweled girdles as she swept
up and down the room. The minstrel was wildly searching for his lute,
and Lee was dancing a break-down in one corner in her joy at having
circumvented the sophs.

"Almost everybody must have come," said Janet, looking through a
peep-hole in the curtain. "There are quantities of the freshmen in
their seats and almost all the seniors are there. Shall we ring up?"

"Ring up," returned Cordelia laconically.

Up went the curtain, and the play began. It so happened that the entire
company appeared at once, just after the beginning of the first act. As
the last one made her entrance, from the upper gallery came a blast of
horns. The performers stopped short, aghast at the interruption. Every
eye was directed toward the gallery where in smiling array appeared the
whole sophomore class, each girl innocently sucking at a lemon stick
imbedded in a lemon.

A perfect shout of laughter went up from the audience, and the
disconcerted juniors were, for a moment, too confounded to go on.
But Janet was the first to gather her self-possession. She whispered
something to the minstrel who went forward and began a plaintive ballad
which quieted the audience and gave the players a chance to recover
themselves, then the performance went on successfully to the end. Yet
though there was rage in the hearts of the players, they went through
their parts with more spirit because of it, and evoked much applause
especially from the uninvited guests who added to the general clapping
of hands, many blasts upon their horns. They attempted no other
disturbance, and behaved with the utmost propriety throughout.

"How did they get in? How did they?" cried Cordelia when the curtain
had fallen on the last act, and the performers, warm and tired, sank
into various attitudes about the green-room. "Could they have bribed
Whiting?" she asked.

"Oh, no, they never would do that," said Janet; "they wouldn't dare,
and he wouldn't take a bribe, for he might know it was as much as his
place was worth. I have been puzzling over it the whole evening, and I
believe I have solved the mystery. I saw a girl coming over here with
her color-box just as I came in this afternoon. If one why not two or
three, or a dozen, or the whole class? Did any one think to look in the
studios before we began the rehearsal?"

"No, of course not," groaned Cordelia. "Idiots that we were! We should
have examined every nook and corner of this edifice before we left it.
All our precautions were taken to prevent their getting in at the time
of the performance, whereas they had sense enough to get in before."

At the door, the departing players encountered a body of sophs drawn
up in line, who blew a mighty blast upon their horns, gave their class
yell and then dispersed, leaving the disgusted juniors to admit that
they had been fairly worsted.

Polly was waiting outside for Janet, to precipitate herself upon
her friend and congratulate her with much effusiveness. "You were
the loveliest of them all," she declared, "a perfect princess of
princesses. Every one of the girls said you were fine. Did you get my
violets? I told Mr. Austin when he gave them to me, that I should send
them to you, and he said they were mine to do with as I chose. Who sent
you the lovely red roses, and oh, Janet, those dear little snowdrops,
where did they come from?"

Janet with her arms full of her trophies, gave the roses into Polly's
keeping. "Ted sent me those," she said, "but the curious thing is that
I haven't an idea who sent the snowdrops. It would almost seem as if
there must be some association connected with them, but I have racked
my brain and cannot imagine who would select an unusual flower for the
sake of a sentiment. There was no card with them."

"Some admirer who adores at a distance," said Polly. "It is a modest
little bunch but very suggestive."

"Of what? Of snow, or innocence or springtime?"

"Let me think. Of all three, maybe. He or she saw you in a snow-storm.
You are innocent of any knowledge of the passion you have aroused, and
he or she hopes to meet you in the spring, yet as that is fairly here,
perhaps spring merely suggests hope."

Janet laughed. "Very ingenious, Miss Polly Perkins. I haven't thanked
you for your violets; they are very sweet and you are very sweet to
give them up to me. Will you help me carry home these valuables? They
must be returned to Miss Thurston to-morrow."

Polly willingly helped to transport the costumes and ornaments which
Janet wished to keep under her own care, and left her friend at the
door of Hopper Hall, returning to her own home with a party of other
freshmen who were going that way.

Janet deposited her burdens on the bed, stuck the roses in a pitcher,
the violets in a tumbler, but the snowdrops were given a place of
honor in a fine Satsuma vase. Janet was standing before them with a
contemplative look upon her face when Teddy came in.

"What are you adoring, princess?" she said.

"I'm not adoring, I am only wondering. Your roses were gorgeous, Ted.
It was lovely of you to send them. Polly sent me violets, and some
unknown has sent these snowdrops. Have you any idea who it could be?"

"Not the slightest," said Teddy. "No doubt some dear sentimental
freshmen who has probably fallen in love with you, and worships at a
distance as the manner of freshmen is."

"That is the most reasonable solution," said Janet, but she kept to
herself the fact that it was not altogether a satisfactory one to
her, and was better pleased to believe it was from some other than a
freshman.



CHAPTER XV

ONE SUNDAY MORNING

"I'M going to cut church this morning, Ted," said Janet one day toward
the middle of May. "I simply cannot stay indoors with a proper spirit
of devotion. If I were at home, it would be another thing, for I could
ride to our dear little church over the smooth shell road, with the bay
sparkling bluely—"

"Bluely?"

"Why not bluely as well as blackly or redly? There, you have snipped
the thread of my rhapsody. I have been saving my extra cuts for just
such a time as this, and I am going to use them clean up. I shall take
a book, Emerson will be in order, and go up the road to that tree where
we sat the day we went sketching with Miss Thurston."

"We went sketching?"

"How critical you are this morning. I didn't say we sketched, I said we
went. What's the matter, Ted? I believe you are envious of my reserved
cuts, and would fain be with me instead of sitting in church waving a
fan and feeling limp as to collar and stiff as to clothes. It is warm
for the season, and one hates to be cooped up. Come, go along anyhow.
What will it matter a hundred years hence if you do happen to over-cut
once?"

"Charity Shepherd would say it might matter a great deal; she believes
so implicitly in fire and brimstone."

"Poor dear Charity, she suffers long and is kind, though she certainly
does seek her own. She runs with the most obviously pious crowd on
Sundays, I don't mean religious, I mean the kind that were not only
born pious, but achieved it and had it thrust upon them, so they exhale
an atmosphere which suggests the Shorter Catechism, Fox's Book of
Martyrs, and Old Hundred. Now, I consider myself religious—"

"You do?" Teddy smiled incredulously.

"You needn't smile that way," said Janet, "I really am. I am not pious;
I don't enjoy prayer-meetings, and fast-days. I don't like to mortify
the flesh as Charity does, and as it is evident that her colleagues do.
The unspeakable dreadfulness of their clothes declares that. Why must
women almost invariably look like guys when they have a hobby?"

"They don't always," said Teddy.

"No, not all, but the majority do, those I sometimes see in a fine
frenzy of zeal rushing along with Charity. There she goes now across
the street. She has all sorts of things in her hands, and she is
late so she is struggling with her gloves and trying not to drop her
belongings. You won't go with me this morning, Ted?"

"If you will wait till this afternoon, I will go."

"Sorry I can't. The mood is upon me now. I feel in an out-of-door
worshipful humor and I might slump before noon if I stayed here,
especially if I were to wait till after a hearty dinner. No, I'll go
now and come back so spiritualized you will envy me." She picked up her
book and an umbrella and started forth.

A quarter of an hour later she was passing a little mission church from
which came trooping a number of children, the little girls pleasantly
conscious of Sunday attire and little boys unpleasantly so. As Janet
reached a point just opposite the door, she came face to face with
Charity Shepherd.

"Oh, it's you, isn't it?" exclaimed Janet taken by surprise.

Charity looked at her disapprovingly. "Yes," she said, "it is I." Then
severely, "You are surely not going to cut church, Janet?"

"Why, yes," replied Janet, balancing her Emerson on her hand. "I
thought of doing it. The groves were God's first temples, you know, and
so I thought of doing my devotions by myself."

"But the example."

"To whom? To you?"

Charity frowned. "I hope I have decision of character enough not to be
influenced, and in the performance of duty I could not be turned aside
by—"

"A poor worm of the dust like me."

"We are all poor worms of the dust," said Charity solemnly. "I should
think you would realize that, Janet, and that you would remember how
transitory this life is. Sunday is given us as a privilege, and should
not be spent in idle trifling any more than in work. We should use it
for our own good."

"That's just what I thought," returned Janet with satisfaction. "We
find our good in different ways, Charity. It would be very, very wrong
for you to spend the morning as I shall do, because your conscience
would smite you all the time, while I haven't a smite. What are you
doing up here, by the way? I thought your place of worship was further
down."

"So it is. I have a class in this mission school and go to church
after."

"Oh, that's it, is it? I thought you were unusually teachery this
morning. I won't detain you if you are going to church. I hope you will
enjoy your morning as much as I expect to enjoy mine."

"I am not going for enjoyment but for profit," said Charity as a
parting shot.

Janet pursued her way and presently turned aside and took a winding
path that led to a large tree in an open field. At a little distance
was a small stream bordered by pollard willows and beyond was a little
truck-farm which still withstood the inroads of the town streets. Janet
sat down under the tree with a sigh of relief, and gazed dreamily off
across the open country. Presently a smile played around her lips, and
diving down into the little chatelaine bag which hung by her side, she
drew forth a pencil and began to scribble on the fly-leaf of her book.

As a moving shadow fell across her page, she looked up and saw Mark
Evans.

"Why, what in the world are you doing here?" she asked. "Don't you know
that you are a worm of the dust, and that a profitless trifling away of
the Sabbath hours is very wicked?"

He smiled and threw himself down on the grass near her.

"Then why are you doing anything so wicked?" he asked.

"I am not. I am spending my time profitably. I am reading Emerson's
'Spiritual Laws,' to keep me in countenance."

"You were not reading when I came up. You were writing, a theme, was
it?"

"Oh, never on Sunday. I draw the line at doing any of my week-day tasks
then. I may not be as upright a person as Charity Shepherd, but I am a
Sabbath keeper in my own way."

"What is the way?"

"I make it a day of rest, and I don't do themes and college work. I
try to get hold of something uplifting to read. Church doesn't always
appear to elevate my thoughts, so I didn't go this morning."

"Then you follow the Orientals in their rules of negative goodness. 'Do
not unto others as you would not have them do unto you,' I believe, is
the way the followers of Confucius put it. We Christians have a more
active idea of carrying out the Golden Rule. We do unto others."

"I hadn't thought of that. Do you mean that in order to fulfil the real
meaning of Sunday one should try to elevate others as well as himself?"

"I meant something like that. It seems as if that might be a step
higher, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Janet nodded thoughtfully. Then with a smile, "Why aren't you
doing it? There is no excuse for you because you have thought out the
question, whereas it has been presented to me for the first time in
this light."

"I didn't feel that I would specially do good to my neighbor by going
to church this morning. I was tired and there was something I wanted to
do this afternoon which would require my best energies. I am saving my
good works till then."

"And what will you do?"

"Go to a little reading room at the other end of town where a lot of
us are trying to make Sunday afternoon pleasant for the youngsters of
the neighborhood. We don't teach them much, but we try to entertain
them and keep them out of the streets. Don't fancy that I am a saint,"
seeing Janet's look. "I happened to go in there with a friend one
Sunday and became interested, that is all."

He picked up Janet's book which she had laid on the grass. "What a dear
old optimist Emerson was," he said. Then, as he opened the book, his
eyes fell on the leaf upon which Janet had scribbled:

   "It is the holy Sabbath day;
    I must not work, I must not play;
    I'm but a little wriggling worm,
    Whose only duty 'tis to squirm."

Janet flushed up. "That wasn't meant for the public to see," she said.

"I beg your pardon," said the young man between confusion and
amusement. "I should have asked your consent. What inspired the
effusion?" He laughed and Janet saw that he appreciated her mood.

[Illustration: "THAT WASN'T MEANT FOR THE PUBLIC TO SEE," SHE SAID.]

"It wasn't a what; it was a who," she answered. "Do you happen to know
Charity Shepherd? She is the most painfully conscientious person I
ever saw. I believe she will die of doing her 'dooty.' I met her on
my way here, and she gave me a lecture upon the woefulness of wasting
one's Sabbath privileges, and upon the uncertainty of human existence,
so I wrote that charming bit of verse you have just read. I think of
dedicating it to Charity."

"I cannot say that I remember Miss Charity, but I know her type."

"Do you find it interesting?" Janet smiled mischievously.

"I cannot say that I do."

"It is a pity that the very good should sometimes be so very
uninteresting, isn't it? Charity is so painfully correct. We all
respect and admire her, but every one of us loves Lee better, and Lee
is such a sinner, bless her heart. Are you sorry the year is almost
over, Mr. Evans? Shall you come back in the fall?"

"I hope to. I rather like the work, and find it a good developer. Yes,
I think you will see me here next year."

"I think you have altered since I first met you," said Janet
reflectively. "I wonder if I ought to have said that," she added. "Am I
presumptuous for a student?"

"No, indeed. Please consider this neutral ground. Not once since that
memorable ride have we met outside college influences. We have always
been obliged to consider our relations as teacher and student, and it
is refreshing to feel that we are upon a more familiar basis. I had
hoped that we might become friends."

"Haven't we?"

"In the real sense of the word, no; we are merely acquaintances."

"I am flattered that you want to be my friend, Mr. Evans," said Janet.
"I am a very trifling creature, as you may not need to be told. I am
afraid any one as erudite as you are would be disappointed in me if you
knew me better."

"Why? There it is again. Because I happen to be your instructor, you
believe that I live upon an entirely different plain from other young
men. Can't you separate the man from his office?"

"I don't believe I ever tried to very much, in this case," said Janet
frankly. "We don't have such a deal of time and opportunity for making
acquaintances, you know. We are pretty busy, and are rather thoroughly
hedged in by rules and regulations at Hopper Hall. Next year, I shall
board outside, I think. When I am here at college, I don't dissipate
my interests by analyzing character, though during the summer, I
must confess that I give a great many moments to the proper study of
mankind; with some good result. It will soon be time to begin again,
and then I promise to consider your case. Where do you go for the
summer, Mr. Evans?"

"Generally to my own North Carolina mountains, but I am beginning to
believe that it will be better for me to broaden my outlook, so I shall
go to New England this year."

"Where you can study Charity's type? It is well worth studying I assure
you. Frankly, I think it really is. I have been brought up short in
my triflings more than once by Charity's uncompromising rectitude. In
spite of my worm's eye view of things, I really want to imitate some of
her qualities. I should like to be as direct and as truthful to myself.
It is hard to be perfectly honest to one's self, don't you think? Isn't
one always inclined to be self-flattering? To martyrize one's self
in matters which are strictly one's own fault, and all that? Hence I
have been dragging forth Charity's motes and displaying them to you,
and haven't hinted that I have a beam. Let us return to that question
of active duty. I suppose if I did what was right, I'd hunt up some
forlornities to give my time to this very day."

"You wouldn't have to hunt for them. They are ready and waiting. I'd be
delighted to have you go with me to the reading room. We want all the
workers we can get," he said eagerly. Then more quietly, "But perhaps
you were only joking."

"I don't know whether I was or not," returned Janet. "I don't believe
I could teach, for I shouldn't know how to answer the questions
they would be sure to put to me, but maybe I could amuse the little
children. I don't know whether or not I could do even that."

"Won't you try for once? If you fail, you need not repeat the
experiment."

"But fancy the humiliation of failing."

"I'll promise you that you will not fail. Think about it, won't you?"

"Oh, I'll think, if that will do any good."

"Decide then and I will call for you this afternoon."

"I am going to Becky Burdett's for dinner. I almost always dine there
on Sundays."

"I will call for you there, if you will allow me. We don't have to go
till three."

"Well," said Janet doubtfully, "I will try this once."

"Thank you. It is a bargain." Mr. Evans held out his hand.

"There are lots of violets over there, I see them," said Janet
irrelevantly as she drew her hand from the young man's firm clasp. "Let
us go get some."

   "Such a starved bank of moss
      Till, that May morn,
    Blue ran the flash across;
      Violets were born!"

Quoted Mr. Evans.

Janet looked at him with a little surprise. "Isn't a man who gets
enthusiastic over chemistry and who likes poetry something of an
anomaly?" she said. "How came you to like Browning?"

"How came you?"

"Naturally, I think."

"By the same token I came by my liking for his writings."

"I have just become the proud possessor of an entire set," Janet told
him. "I bought it from a friend, the most interesting girl in college,
I think, and the most beautiful. You must have seen Mary Perkins, Polly
Perkins, as we call her."

"I have seen her. She is very lovely, but from what I hear, she will
not finish her college course."

"Why? Don't you believe she is strong enough?" asked Janet in alarm.
"She is really much stronger than she looks, though she works very
hard, the dear thing has to, for she is dependent entirely upon her own
efforts."

"Yes, I heard that, too, and I have a fellow feeling for her. I did not
mean that she would have to leave on account of ill health but because
she would enter a different sphere; that she would marry."

"Oh." Janet was provoked that her cheeks should grow hot. "Yes," she
said after a pause, "I hope she will marry. I know Mr. Austin quite
well, but not well enough to be sure that he is worthy of her."

"He is said to be a good fellow, but I am told his family do not share
your enthusiasm for Miss Perkins."

Janet's eyes flashed. "I'd like to know why. They may be thankful if he
wins so dear and noble a girl as Polly. Imagine their objecting."

Mr. Evans looked at her with some amusement not unmixed with
admiration. "You are a loyal friend, Miss Ferguson."

"Of course. I wouldn't profess to be a friend if I could not be a loyal
one. Who told you all this, Mr. Evans?"

"I have heard it from several sources, but I think Miss Drake was my
last informant; I see her once in a while, you remember."

"Then she should know, for she visits the Austins. I must go now,
Mr. Evans, for I am in no trim for a Sunday dinner in a conventional
household. What a nice lot of violets. Thank you. I will wear them.
No, I won't; I'll put them in water so that I can keep them awhile to
remind me of—"

"Of what?" Mr. Evans spoke eagerly.

"Of several things. Of ethics, and Browning and Sabbath duties," said
Janet demurely.

"You will be ready when I call for you at—what is the number?"

"No. 216 Highland Avenue. Yes, I will be ready. Auf wiedersehen. I am
going to turn off here."

She did not wait for a reply, but leaving the young man at the end of
the path, she turned down the street toward Hopper Hall.

She entered the room as Teddy was putting away her hat.

"Well," said this young person, "I hope you had a profitable morning."

"I did," returned Janet, "one of the most profitable I ever remember to
have spent. I heard two sermons; one upon my duty to my neighbor and
the other upon the keeping of the holy Sabbath day."

Teddy laughed. "Who delivered the sermons?"

"Charity Shepherd, one; Mark, the perfect man, the other. The latter
was so effective a speaker, that I have promised to visit a mission
school or something of that kind, with him this afternoon."

"Janet Ferguson, I don't believe it."

"Fact. It is way at the other end of town, and I am going to try the
experiment of reading things or telling them to dirty little hoodlums.
What shall I wear, Ted? They must be impressed, you know, by my
appearance. Looks count for a good deal in matters of this kind."

"You are the biggest fraud, Janet. What is the use of pretending?
You know your wanting to look your best is not upon the ragamuffins'
account."

"On what then?"

"Mr. Evans's."

"Teddy Waite, it isn't so. Now you'll make me put on that horrid lilac
hat that I bought from Louise Baker and that always makes me look as
black as an Indian. I was going to wear the blue one."

"I wasn't aware that my opinion had such weight," said Teddy. "By all
means wear the blue if you want to impress—the children."

And Janet meekly remarked that she believed she would.


Teddy looked at her quizzically when she came back. "Well," she said,
"was the blue hat sufficiently effective?"

Janet flushed ever so slightly. "Oh yes," she returned lightly, "I
think the hoodlums were quite overpowered by my magnificence."

"And are you going to keep up the visitation for the rest of time?"

"There will be only two or three Sundays more before I go home," said
Janet apologetically. "I might as well go till then. After that, I
shall be beyond your jibes, Miss Waite. Home will seem like heaven for
there the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest."



CHAPTER XVI

CRUSHED ILLUSIONS

JANET sat on the floor disconsolately gazing at a broken plaster cast
which she had just unearthed from a box of her belongings sent from
Hopper Hall to her new rooms some squares away. This senior year, she
and Teddy had determined should give them more freedom.

Cordelia and Lee had followed their example, and all four were
established in one of the many houses offering apartments to students.
Charity Shepherd and Grace Breitner still clung to the familiar
dormitory. Fay Wingate and Juliet Fuller with the rest of the last
year's seniors had "passed out into the wide, wide world." Rosalie, who
had spent her college days with an aunt in the town, was now at home in
a distant city.

"What a lugubrious countenance," said Teddy, turning to look at Janet.
"One would suppose that not only was a trumpery cast broken, but your
heart as well."

"Oh, it isn't the cast altogether," said Janet; "it is what it
typifies: shattered hopes, crushed illusions, friendships broken."

"Shattered nonsense," said Teddy scornfully. "What a way for a senior
to talk. You're homesick, that's what's the matter with you. You are
sighing for old Hopper Hall; you want the bureau drawers that would
stick, and the closet door that wouldn't shut. You want giggling
freshmen to look down upon and haughty seniors to look up to. You
haven't yet become adapted to your new conditions."

"No, that isn't it, though I do miss Fay and Grace and, most of all,
little Polly. I shall miss my dear child more than any one; that's what
I mean by crushed illusions, Ted."

"Why, what is the matter with her? Isn't she here? I thought you said
she expected to come back."

Janet began fitting a wing upon her broken figure of the Victory and
answered: "No, she isn't."

"Why what has happened? Why didn't you tell me before, Janet?"

"I knew it only just now." She laid down the wing and drew from her
blouse waist a letter. "It is very romantic and very like a book," she
said, "but I didn't expect it, I expected to be making plans for her,
and helping her by my advice and sympathy all through the year and now—"

"Othello's occupation is gone? Well, you can give me the sympathy."

"It's wasted upon you. I never met a person who needed it less. As to
advice, you spurn that persistently, and I feel bereft of the use of my
highest powers."

"Suppose you don't go mooning on in this strain till after you have
told me what has happened to Polly. I have some interest in her welfare
though I can steel my heart against her fascinations with more success
than you can."

"For one thing," began Janet unfolding her letter and spreading it out
on her lap, "she is going abroad with Miss Thurston next month."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Teddy. "What next, pray? I should think that was
enough. Is Miss Thurston inviting her?'

"No, and that is where the romantic part comes in. You remember the
absent-minded uncle who gave Polly a set of Browning two years running?"

"Yes, I remember the absent-minded beggar. Well?"

"He has turned up from somewhere; Salt Lake City, or Seattle
or some one of those far distant spots. He came to Abington to
revisit the scenes of his youth. He is Polly's great-uncle, Judge
Somebody-or-other, she doesn't tell his name but calls him uncle. He
saw her and took a great fancy to her, as who would not? He also saw
Van Austin who was there at the time. Oh, yes," as Teddy looked at her
sharply, "I told you it was the real thing with Van and it is. It seems
that Papa Austin and Uncle Judge were classmates at college in their
youth, and when Uncle Judge found that Polly's young man was a son of
his old chum, he was so pleased that he offered to send Polly abroad
if she could find any one who would be a suitable companion and if she
would give up college. He has some old-fashioned prejudice against
the higher education for women, and when Van told him that he wanted
to marry Polly in a year—yes," at a second look from Teddy, "that is
true—he said there was no use for her to go back to college and that a
year abroad would be of much more benefit to her. So he piles down here
to town, hunts up Papa Austin, splurges around with a gold-headed cane—"

"Did Polly tell you all that?" asked the literal Teddy.

"No, not all. I am simply making him the conventional rich uncle. He's
got to be effective or my story will lose its artistic quality. So
then, when he discloses his identity to his old chum, he exclaimed,
'Behold in me the long lost comrade of boyhood's days!' And papa hauls
out his handkerchief and trumpets a blast, being overcome with emotion,
and quavers out: 'Does my hearing deceive me or are those the tones
of my old playmate, Peter—we'll call him Peter—Perkins?' Then they
fall on one another's neck and get red in the face. Then Polly trips
in hand in hand with Van. She wears a fetching hat and a ravishing
costume purchased by the wealthy uncle, and Papa Austin says: 'Shiver
my timbers!'"

"Oh, Janet, now you are getting silly."

"So I am. I am losing the unity of my scheme. He says: 'Bless my soul,
whom have we here?' Then nunky trots her forward and says: 'My niece
and heiress,' while Polly hangs her head and drops a pretty curtsey.
Then nunky and papa join hands and say: 'Bless you, my children,' and
they ring down the curtain."

"Janet, how much of that is true and how much is foolishness? I never
heard any one gabble on in such a strain as you can."

"The main facts are true, though I have embellished it a little to
make it more picturesque. It is perfectly true that the judge is an
old friend of the Austins; likewise is it true that Polly is going
abroad with Miss Thurston next month, and that she and Van expect to be
married in about a year."

"And what do the Austins say?"

"I don't see why they should say anything. Now that the judge has
appeared on the scene they appear to be reconciled to the match. Van
isn't so wonderfully well off. He has a pretty good position and fair
prospects, so I think they will get along, even if papa and mamma don't
come forward with munificent gifts in the shape of house and lands."

"And how do you feel about it?" asked Teddy bluntly.

"I? Oh, I am delighted." She smiled a reminiscent little smile. "I'm a
thousand times more unhappy at losing Polly, whom I hoped to have with
us this year, than I am at the loss of 'the hero.' Be sure of that,
Ted. I recovered from that attack long ago."

"He isn't one of the crushed illusions then?"

"No, indeed. 'When half-gods go the gods arrive.'"

Teddy climbed down from the step-ladder upon the top of which she
had been sitting, and crouching on the floor close to Janet, peered
interestedly up into her face. "Just what do you mean by that
enigmatical speech?" she asked.

"As if I could expound Emerson to you. Seek your own solution, my
dear." After which remark, Janet began to hum a popular air and
returned to the unpacking of her box.

Teddy went back to the hanging of her pictures saying: "At least you
are more cheerful than you were when you opened the box."

"My dear," said Janet, "even you would be aghast if you were suddenly
to discover that what you thought a complete victory had turned out to
be an apology for one, a defeat, as it were."

"Is that another enigma?" asked Teddy speaking with difficulty because
of the projection of several nails from her mouth.

"Why, no," was the reply; "nothing could be more obvious than the fact
I wish to convey to you; look at this." She held up the detached wing.

"There's some one at the other door; just see who it is, Janet," said
Teddy. "I've climbed up and down this ladder so many times that I am
getting cramps in my knees."

"It is only some of the freshmen, let them knock," said Janet, calmly
sorting over the contents of the box.

"Freshmen? Are you still at Hopper Hall, goose?"

"Oh, I forgot; really I did. I'll go."

She went to the door of the next room and opened it to admit Lee
Penrose.

"I came to borrow some alcohol," began Lee.

"Say that over again," said Janet, "and then again, Lee; it sounds so
good and natural. Of course that's what you came for. I believe you've
become so used to that formula that when you confront St. Peter at the
gate of heaven you'll murmur: 'I came to borrow some alcohol.' Come in.
How are you getting on up-stairs?"

"Oh, pretty well. It takes a good while to settle in a strange place,
much longer than when you know where to sling everything. I can't stay.
We are so tired that we are going to have some tea and stuff in our
rooms. Both Cordelia and I brought stores from home. Did you say you
had any alcohol?"

Janet returned to her task. "Look in those bottles on the floor behind
the door," she directed.

Lee began rattling among the bottles. "Here's one marked alcohol," she
said.

"Well, if it's marked alcohol, there ought to be alcohol in it," said
Janet.

Lee gave the bottle a gentle shake. "It seems about half full," she
said. "Shall I take it?"

"Oh, certainly. You are quite welcome to it," returned Janet, hiding a
smile.

And Lee went off triumphant.

Janet had risen from the unpacking of her box and was burrowing in the
depths of her trunk when a second sharp tap was heard at the door.

"Come in," said Janet, from under the trunk lid.

"Janet Ferguson, you are a fraud," said Lee's indignant voice. "We
filled the lamp full of that stuff; it must have been nothing but water
for the wick sputtered and sizzled and went out."

"Beggars shouldn't be choosers," said Janet, letting her trunk lid fall
with a thump. "I didn't say it was alcohol."

"Why, you did."

"No, I didn't. You said the bottle was marked alcohol, and I said if it
was so marked, alcohol it ought to be; that's all."

From her lofty perch Teddy looked down and chuckled.

"Well," Lee began, then she laughed. "I might have known you would play
some trick, Janet Ferguson. Now we've got to eat a cold lunch, unless—"

"Unless what?"

"You'll lend us your chafing-dish or samovar or something, for it will
take hours for that wick to dry."

"Then you deceived me," said Janet, "pretending that you had no
alcohol."

"Why, we haven't any."

"Then where's the good of a chafing-dish or a samovar, I'd like to
know?"

"But haven't you any alcohol?" asked Lee, innocently.

"Not a drop. This is not Hopper Hall, my sweeting. You will find that
if you want a thing here, you will have to provide it your own self.
Ted and I don't intend to keep alcohol on tap."

"What are you going to do without it?"

"We're going to use the gas or Mrs. Weed's kitchen stove."

"Why didn't we think of that?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Lack of the proper ingenuity, I suppose. By the
way, have you happened to have any protracted conversation with Mrs.
Weed?"

"No," replied Lee, "I've had no occasion for it. I've made some passing
remark when I met her on the stairs or in the entry but that is all."

"You will find her a mine of material. She would be worth thousands to
a Dickens. I was down in the kitchen this very morning pressing out a
rumpled waist that I had to have in a hurry, and our conversation went
something like this: 'You must be very fond of the college, Mrs. Weed,
you have lived near it for so long,' I began.

"'Yes, my dear, and I want the college to have my home after I have
done with it, if my children wish to sell it. I love my home. I've
lived here since my husband died. He was a beautiful man. I shed a
great many tears when he was taken.'

"'Yes, it must have been very hard,' I answered, rather at sea for
proper condolences and anxious to change the subject. 'I believe you
said you were from Vermont, Mrs. Weed. Do you ever go there now?'

"'No, my dear,' she said, 'I don't care to. It makes me think of my
dear mother, and of how many nice things she used to make. It always
makes me shed tears to think of all that.'

"'But you have such a pleasant home here, Mrs. Weed. You are almost
within the college grounds.' I made an effort to send the ball back to
my end of the field.

"'I know, and I enjoy the college grounds. I have seen a great many
changes, though. There used to be such a handsome rose-bush, just by
the entrance, but they took it up. I don't know why they did it. I sat
down and cried when it was gone; I missed it so.'

"'Of course you missed it, I can see that you would, but there are new
fashions in roses as well as in most things. You must have mothered a
great many students in all the years you have been here.' I sent the
ball off at another angle.

"'Yes, I have,' with a deep sigh, 'all kinds and sorts. There was one
I often think of. She went home to die. I shed a great many tears over
that young lady.'

"'It was very sad,' I murmured, feeling that I should soon be drowned
in these floods of tears. 'I have finished with the irons, Mrs. Weed,'
I said, 'I won't bother you again soon.'

"'Don't say that,' she said, 'for it makes me feel as if you were
afraid of me and that makes me feel like crying.'

"Whereupon I fled."

Lee and Teddy laughed. "I'll tackle her," said the former, "and perhaps
I can get permission to make a cup of tea."

"If you don't do it too often, she will be perfectly delighted to
accommodate you," said Janet, "but to-day you and Cordelia had better
come and lunch with us and I'll make the tea."

The invitation was readily accepted and Lee flew up-stairs to notify
Cordelia. Both appeared a few minutes later.

"We'll have to hang together," said Janet, "until we get used to
things, or we will all get in the dumps. It isn't a bit like old times,
is it, Cordelia?"

"No, I think it is better. When we get used to it, we shall be
very comfortable," she said. "I am already beginning to enjoy the
possibilities ahead of me. I've nothing against dear old Hopper
Hall, but I think its days of usefulness are past, so far as we are
concerned. There is such a raft of younger girls in there this year. We
upper classmen will enjoy the sweets of seclusion, I think. By the way,
I saw Mark, the perfect man, this summer. He was up at Gloucester. How
came you to know him so well?"

"How came I?" said Janet, slowly. "Do I know him well?"

"I thought so from the way he spoke of you. He quoted you and referred
to sundry walks in the country and such. He knew the Sunday rhyme you
made about the worm, too."

"Did he?" said Janet, indifferently. "I wonder who told him. Your vivid
imagination has enlarged the importance of the situation. I met him out
here at Ramsay's farm one never-to-be-forgotten Sunday last May when I
ran away from everybody. We had rather a nice off-to-ourselves morning,
I remember. After that I went, I think it was three times to that
little reading room at the other end of town. I told you about that, I
am sure."

"Is that all?" asked Cordelia, incredulously.

"I shall not go away off there this year," remarked Janet; "it is too
far, and I didn't fancy the experience as a steady thing. Do have some
of these preserves. They are home-made, you know. Mother packed me a
box of them, and I know they are good because the fruit came from our
own place and I helped to gather it."

Cordelia accepted the proffered sweets and did not notice that Janet
had deftly changed the subject.

"Does any one know who has our old rooms?" asked Teddy.

"Some little up-start freshmen," Lee told her. "It made me mad when I
was over there, to see them switching in and out our doors."

Cordelia laughed. "But why, Lee? We could have had them again if we
had wanted. Our coming here was our own choice. You didn't expect they
would seal up those rooms because of the sanctity lent them by our
presence."

"No, not that, of course; but it is on the same principle that I always
hate to see our housemaids wear my cast-off clothes."

"What would those freshmen say if they heard you making such a
comparison?" said Teddy. "What shall I do with the tea-leaves, Janet?"

"Teddy's practical mind is already devoting itself to the domestic side
of life," said Janet. "Chuck them in the fireplace, Ted. We'll have
a fire there some day, and burn up all the trash. An open fireplace
covers a multitude of sins. By the way, girls, that is another
perfectly lovely way of spending our time. When it gets colder, we can
cook all sorts of things over the open fire. I wish we had a crane like
those our forbears used. Yes, I foresee great satisfaction from this
fireplace."

"Janet has her heart's desire now," said Edna. "She has been yearning
for a hearthstone ever since we first came to college. I think life
ought to seem complete to her now."

Janet vouchsafed no reply but began to gather up the cups and saucers
preparatory to washing them, while Cordelia and Lee declared they must
get back to their rooms.



CHAPTER XVII

SNOWDRIFTS

This year a secret ambition of Janet's was fulfilled. She was chosen
president of her class, and the honor influenced her more than she
realized. While she had never been a "grind," she had kept up a fairly
good record, which had improved from year to year as she grew more
seriously interested in her work and as her character developed. As
she, with Cordelia, Lee, and Teddy had been the leaders in fun-making
during their freshman year, now Janet aspired to be leader in more
solid things, and she turned zealously to her work. Cordelia followed
her, a close second, Lee advanced uncertainly, while Teddy plodded
along showing never as brilliant work as Lee's at her best, nor as weak
as Lallie Patton's. Charity worked industriously, but as Lee said, her
results were wooden. They lacked fire and originality while Lee's were
sometimes startling in the latter quality.

As the cool days came on, there were many of the girls who were glad
to seek the cozy rooms occupied by Janet and Teddy, and scarcely a
day passed but some one appeared, glad to sit before the open fire
to discuss college matters or problems of life, or to engage in
nonsensical talk. There were evenings, too, when bubbling messes
seethed over the coals and sent up an agreeable odor. Sometimes it was
panuche or fudge, again the plainer molasses candy, while on occasions
there would be a grand feast, when oysters were roasted, chops broiled,
or chickens cooked by suspending them by a string in front of the fire.

Several times frat meetings were held in the rooms, and so fascinating
did Teddy and Janet make their accounts of these, that finally Cordelia
and Lee who had held out through the mid-year's at last entered the
fraternity, and added to the jollity of the meetings.

It was one evening when the days were at their shortest, that there
came a tap at the door of the room where Janet sat luxuriously toasting
her feet before the blaze. She wore a crimson dressing-gown, and a
pair of red Turkish slippers. Her little head with its crown of dark
hair showed effectively against the olive green cushions of her Morris
chair. She was so entirely comfortable and content that she hesitated
to reply to the rap, feeling that any interruption of her quiet would
be unwelcome.

At a second tap, however, she gave a reluctant: "Come in," and the door
opened.

A little figure stood there for a moment and then darted forward,
crying: "Janet, Janet, I'm so glad to find you at home and alone."

"Polly! Why Polly!" Janet held out both hands, and the two rushed to
meet each other. "Come right over here by the fire," said Janet. "Take
off your things. Sit down here and get warm. You're going to stay and
we'll have tea. When did you get here, Polly?"

"Just now. At least, we got in the day before yesterday, but only
reached here this morning, and as soon as I could get away, I said I
must come over here."

"Got away from whom? Miss Thurston? Are you staying with her?"

"No, I am staying at the Austins'. I left Miss Thurston over in Germany
and came back with Minnie and Marion Austin and their aunt, Mrs.
Fletcher, and I am making Minnie Austin a visit. Marian is there, too.
She wants dreadfully to see you, but I wanted you all to myself this
first time." She took Janet's hand and laid her cheek against it.

"You dear child, it is good to see you," said Janet tenderly. "Tell me
all about everything. How in the world did you happen to come back with
the Austin girls?"

"We met them in Italy a few weeks before we came away. You know Miss
Thurston knows them and we were all together until Miss Thurston left
us for Germany. Miss Thurston and Mrs. Fletcher were good comrades, so
I was thrown with the girls and we became excellent friends."

"Did they know—"

"About Van?" Polly blushed prettily. "No, not at first, but after
awhile they did. Once, when Minnie was ill, and I was alone with her a
good deal of the time, we became very confidential, and Janet, she was
lovely about it. She has smoothed away all the difficulties and has
been the dearest thing you ever saw."

Janet sat down on the arm of the chair and laid her arm across Polly's
shoulders. "I know just what a dear little nurse you made," she said.
"I can imagine your soothing ways when one is ill, and I'll venture to
say you gave up all sorts of excursions and sight-seeings for the sake
of keeping Miss Austin company at some stupid hotel while the others
went off skylarking. Of course she recognized your unselfish spirit.
I know just as well how it happened as if I had been there, Polly
Perkins."

Polly looked down and shook her head protestingly. "You always
overrate me, Janet. It was something like that, but really it wasn't
any sacrifice for I was tired and was getting mental indigestion
from seeing so much, so I was glad of a few days' rest from picture
galleries and historical wonders."

"Oh, of course. Well, then having won Minnie, what did the others do?"

"Oh, they were all right. Marian knew I was a great friend of yours,
and she was ready to make friends in the beginning. Mrs. Fletcher was
lovely because I was traveling with Miss Thurston whom she admires very
much, so we settled it all comfortably, and when at the last minute
Miss Thurston decided to go to Germany, Mrs. Fletcher was ready to take
me under her wing and we all came home together. Before we had started,
Minnie asked me to make her a visit and when we landed, there was a
note from Mrs. Austin telling her to be sure to bring me home with her,
so I accepted and am going to stay till after Christmas."

"So you had a fine trip?"

"It was beyond anything I ever dreamed of. Miss Thurston knew so well
how to manage that, instead of staying only six months as I at first
intended, I was able to stay eight, and I had a little surplus, enough
to buy some new gowns and things. See my Paris hat, Janet, and my
English tailor gown. Am I not a howling swell?"

"You surely are. What a discovery that rich uncle was. I never was so
glad of anything in all my life. Is he still in the east?"

"No, he has gone back, but he told me not to worry about my wedding
clothes, that he would see that I had a proper outfit, and will you
believe it? He sent me an extra hundred dollars to spend on such things
as I might need. Minnie was perfectly dear in helping me to choose
wisely, and Miss Thurston was always finding out queer little shops
where one could get beautiful things for a mere song. So, though I took
scarcely anything away, I have come back with quite a wardrobe. It was
the most fascinating time I ever had in all my life, yet I am glad to
get back."

"Of course you are, and the reason is not very far-away," said Janet.

"One of the reasons is right here," returned Polly patting Janet's arm.
"Now tell me all about everything and everybody. I suppose there are
scores of new girls."

"Yes, the freshmen pervade all space, I sometimes think. Of course Fay
and Juliet are not here, but Cordelia and Lee have the rooms just over
these, and very few of our class have dropped out. We all have our
noses to the grindstone and are working away like good fellows, being
overpowered by the fact that this is our senior year."

"And you are president of the class. I'm so glad."

"Who told you that valuable piece of news?"

"I met Louise Baker on the way here, and she gave me several bits of
news."

"Poor Louise, she is not having an easy time this year. She misses her
brother's helping hand. I am glad she has almost finished her course."

Polly looked grave. "I wonder if there is anything I could do for her.
I remember how you and she helped me out last year. What changes there
have been for me, Janet, since the time I came here from Abington, a
green little freshman, so ignorant of the world, and so shabby and
scared."

"And so dear and lovable," added Janet. "You are neither ignorant,
shabby nor scared now, are you, Polly?"

"No indeed; I have escaped from my chrysalis, but Janet, dear, I hope I
haven't become vain and selfish and disappointing. I want to keep your
love. So many times I have thought of what you said: 'Character first;
that is lasting; the other is superficial.' I wouldn't disappoint you
for the world, Janet. Please pull me back with a firm hand if you think
I am taking the wrong path. You once said that prosperity spoils more
persons than it helps. Don't let it spoil me."

"I don't think the amount of prosperity that has come to you is in any
danger of spoiling you," said Janet indulgently. "I'll tell you when I
see you in danger."

"If I could always have you near me," sighed Polly, her hand creeping
into Janet's. "I can't realize that your place is not always to be
here, and after this year, the college will know you no more. I wish
you were only a freshman instead of a senior."

"I don't," replied Janet. "I shall be sorry enough when my college days
are over, yet I do not like the idea of repeating them."

"You will come and make me long visits, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Janet, lightly. "Now tell me what your plans
are. Where shall you go when you leave the Austins'?"

"I shall go back to Abington and stay with my stepmother. I can be of
some use there. I think I shall be married early in the fall. Then, oh,
then, Janet, we shall have a dear little home of our own. I don't want
to live in a boarding house; I want to make a home. Do you think I am
too young to marry?"

"You are younger than I shall ever be," said Janet, smiling, "but in
your case, Polly, I think it is a wise step. I believe in a woman's
gaining all the knowledge that she can if she has the opportunity, but
if the knowledge must come through such struggle and privation as you
endured last year, I think it is much better to know a little less and
be happier. Homemaking is the end to which all good women are best
fitted, and it is the best of ambitions. That is my opinion from my
long experience. I speak as a senior, my dear, not as I shall probably
speak next year, when I have discovered that I don't know anything and
that nobody listens to my opinions. I shall want a good long visit from
you this summer, and we'll talk it all out. Don't go yet. Ted will be
in directly, and we will have some tea. I always wait for her because
she delights to make it. Can't you stay?"

"I'm afraid not. I promised to be back by five o'clock; and you
know Mr. Austin's ideas upon the subject of punctuality. If I am
three-fifths of a minute late, I shall never hear the last of it. Come
and see me soon, Janet. I want you to meet Minnie."

Janet promised, and let her go, feeling that though in most ways she
was the same old Polly, she had stepped into a world which was not
familiar to her, and that the shabby, shy little freshman would soon
blossom into a beautiful, self-possessed woman.

"But she will always keep her dear, loyal, true heart," murmured Janet.

She saw Polly less often than she expected. Their interests were no
longer the same. The Austins absorbed their guest and, with Minnie
and Marian, Polly was constantly flying hither and thither. Van had
insisted upon announcing the engagement, so, many attentions were
showered upon his lovely fiancée.

Janet who found her little world in the college, seldom met her friend
outside. Becky gave a luncheon to which Janet was invited. The Austins
gave a tea where Polly, radiant in a soft pink gown, was one of the
receiving party, but these occasions were not satisfactory and except
for occasional flying visits, the two seldom had an opportunity of
meeting.

However, there were many things outside of hard work to occupy Janet.
Proms and dances, dramatics and banquets given by the different classes
Janet felt that she must attend in her capacity as president of her
class. She enjoyed them, too, and had no desire to hunt up excuses for
staying away.

"I shall never have another chance of taking them all in, or of being
one of the favored circle," she said to Teddy one evening, "so I shall
go whenever it is possible."

"Then this cold night doesn't stagger you?"

"No, not a bit. I can get a carriage to take me there, if I can't get
there in any other way."

"Extravagance!"

"That depends upon how you look at it. If I walk, I should probably
take cold, and a carriage will cost less than a doctor. Aren't you
going, Ted? I'll give you a seat in my carriage."

"I'll take this red nose and this cold to no dance," said Teddy. "I
shall hug the fire and shall not envy you one bit. Why don't you get
Cordelia or Lee to go with you?"

"They thought we were to go together, and they have some crazy scheme
of their own. They are going up to Stella Urber's with a lot of the
other girls and all will start from there."

"Why didn't you go?"

"Wasn't asked. Think of the solitary grandeur in which I shall pursue
my way. I hope some one will be on hand to be properly impressed when I
arrive in state."

She went to her room and began to lay out the paraphernalia necessary
for the occasion.

"Are you going to wear that?" asked Teddy as Janet took out a pale
green evening gown from her trunk.

"Yes, might as well get the good of it. I find that if one doesn't
use things when there is a chance, Fate decrees that they shall never
be worn. I'll go down and telephone for a carriage before I begin to
dress, then I can't change my mind."

An hour later, a very lovely Janet stood waiting for the cloak Teddy
held ready to throw around her.

"I never saw you look better," said that individual. "That green is
extremely becoming and brings out all your flesh tints and makes your
hair look so dark and glossy. You are quite a stunning-looking girl,
Janet, at your best."

"Thanks. And at my worst?"

"I'll not spoil my compliment by any supplement," laughed Teddy.

Janet gathered up her billowy skirts and ran down-stairs leaving her
chum to the enjoyment of a quiet evening.

Snow had lately fallen and lay piled up in drifts along the streets
and roads. Janet, leaning back in the somewhat cumbersome carriage
which had been sent for her, congratulated herself that she was not
compelled to march through the soft white heaps. She noticed that the
mild weather succeeding the storm, would cause what was snow then to be
slush to-morrow, and that even now the drifts were less compact than
they had been.

The dance was given by Florence Worthington, one of the fraternity
girls, and an alumna, and promised to be a very pleasant affair. Miss
Worthington lived on the outskirts of the town in a fine old mansion
which afforded abundant room for such an entertainment.

As the lights grew fewer along the way, Janet realized that she was
approaching her destination, but when the twinkling gleams from the
Worthington house were still some distance ahead came a sudden dip and
a lurch of the carriage and the horses stopped short.

Presently the driver came to the door and opened it. "Sorry, lady, but
we've broke down. I ain't very well acquainted with this road at night,
and there's a big hole just here that I didn't bargain for."

"What are you going to do?" asked Janet in consternation.

"I guess I'll have to leave the carriage here and take the horses back
to town. It's a bed break and it'll have to go to the shop."

"Gracious!" exclaimed Janet. "Have I got to stay here all alone till
you get back?"

"I guess if you set in the carriage, there won't nobody bother you,"
said the man. "I won't be no longer than I can help, but I can't get
back under an hour."

"Dear me, and I am late as it is," said Janet. A pretty situation for a
lone damsel to be left in, she thought. "Why didn't you go around the
other way?" she asked.

"You said you was late, and I thought I'd take this short cut. I've
done it a good many times in the daytime, but at night and the snow and
all makes considerable difference."

Janet considered the state of affairs for some moments, but presently
her mental review was interrupted by some one's shouting: "What's the
matter there?"

Janet poked her head out of the carriage door and saw a man muffled up
in an overcoat, striding toward them. He stood talking to the driver
who had gone a few steps to meet him.

Janet drew in her head as the traveler came up to the carriage and
said: "I beg your pardon, madam, but you seem to be in a predicament.
If you will accept my escort to Mr. Worthington's, I shall be happy to
walk there with you. I am on my way to the dance."

"Oh, Mr. Evans," cried the relieved girl, "what a godsend you are."

"Miss Janet," exclaimed the young man. "I certainly am glad I happened
to come along at this moment. Are you wearing thin shoes? Ought you to
walk in this snow?"

"Of course I'll walk," said Janet, as, gathering up her robes about
her, she stepped out.

"The walking is pretty bad," Mr. Evans told her. "I came this way
because it is shorter, but if I had known how it was under foot, I
would have gone around. Perhaps you would better permit me to stay here
with you till another carriage can be sent out."

"Oh no, that will take too long. With the house just in sight we
surely should be able to walk. I may get my feet wet but I can change
my shoes. Florence will lend me a pair, and even if I am deprived of
the dancing, I can have a good time. How lucky that you happened to be
going. I didn't know you knew the Worthingtons. You needn't come back,
driver. We will walk."

She started off with Mr. Evans, leaving the broken-down vehicle by
the wayside. The way was surely not a pleasant one, for the soft snow
penetrated her thin shoes, and as they plunged along, Janet felt her
ankles getting wetter and wetter. Her petticoats she held high and it
was not muddy if it was wet.

"You always appear in the guise of a ministering angel, Mr. Evans,"
said the girl. "I shall never forget our first encounter; it was not
unlike this predicament. Have you Rosalie's quarter still?"

"Yes, it is my good luck piece. There was snow then, I remember. I have
always associated you with snowflakes."

"And snowdrops?" asked Janet.

He laughed a little confusedly. "Well yes, I must acknowledge it."

"Then I have you to thank for those that came to me last spring at the
dramatics. All this time I have wondered who could have sent them and
never once suspected. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because you never asked me."

Janet gave a mirthful little laugh at this confession. "It is well that
this is my last year at college," she said, "or I don't know into what
difficulties I might lead you."

"I don't think it is at all well," said Mr. Evans.

"Why?"

"Because it isn't my last. I am likely to become a full professor, Miss
Janet. It is doubtful if Professor Gaines's health will permit him to
return and in case he resigns, I am informed that the chair will be
mine."

"Good! I am delighted." Janet spoke heartily. "Dear me, I half envy you
the prospect of living for the rest of your life in this old place."

"It is rather a concentrative life, broadening in some respects; very
narrow in others. One finds his world in the college and its interests
must be his."

"Yes, I know that, but they are such pleasant interests, I think. I
believe I am becoming more and more fond of the intellectual life; too
fond, I expect my mother will think, when I get home. Ours is a happy,
pleasure-loving community. We live near enough to our small town to
be included in all its festivities, and as papa is a physician, he is
known far and wide, so we are always expected to keep open house and to
entertain anybody who comes along. Since old Dr. Farley's death, papa's
practice is mainly in the town and he contemplates removing his office
there, but I hope we shall not have to go, though I don't see how it
can be prevented."

"You would not care to leave your neighborhood then? You do not love
your alma mater well enough to prefer her environment?"

"I'm not likely to be permitted to have a preference, for home is many
miles away. Of course I love my alma mater, and if I should choose some
other spot than our dear old Warwick, I'd take this very place."

"That is encouraging."

"In what way?"

"I'll tell you on Commencement day, not before. Will you save me half
an hour then? I hope to know my fate by that time, and shall need
either your congratulations or your condolences."

"I'll save you the half hour, if I am allowed. The world and his
grandmother will be on hand to see me graduated and I don't know
whether I shall be given a chance to take a long breath, but if I am
permitted a moment's pause, I will notify you. I might issue a bulletin
every hour so you could see how matters are going with me. It might run
something like this: Eight to nine, breakfasts with family; nine to
ten, receives calls from classmates; ten to twelve, packs; twelve to
one, weeps; one to two, lunches; two to five, listens to orations and
receives diploma; five to Six, receives congratulations, shakes hands
and kisses some twenty-five girls; six to eight, dines with alumna;
eight to eight-thirty, breathing-spell."

"I'm glad you allowed for the breathing-spell. I'll look out for the
bulletin," said Mr. Evans; "you might pin it on the tree just in front
of your house and I'll go look at it every hour."

"And in case the breathing-spell period is taken up, you can select
some one beside the president of the seniors to offer you condolences
or congratulations as the case may be. Of course you will be
disappointed if the president should be so occupied that she cannot
give you even five minutes, but allow me to tell you here in the
seclusion of the Worthingtons' driveway; there are others much, much
more sympathetic."

"Then if you cannot offer me your sympathies will you provide a
substitute?"

"Willingly. Here we are, and alas for my pretty slippers; they feel
like sponges and exude sloppiness at every step."

"You will take cold."

"No, I shall not. I shall use my mind, as Charity says."

The door was opened to them and Janet with her water-soaked shoes flew
up-stairs, and sent for Florence who insisted upon giving her quinine,
provided her with dry stockings and a pair of her slippers, which,
though less fine than her own, allowed her to join the dancers and to
enjoy herself as thoroughly as if there had been no snowdrifts along
the road.



CHAPTER XVIII

A STOLEN FEAST

"WE'VE simply got to help the sophs get hold of that supper," said Lee
emphatically one day when the four girls were gathered in Cordelia's
study. "It's our last chance for any real fun and we must embrace it."

"How did you happen to hear about it?" asked Janet.

"Oh, one of the sophs came to me for advice. She said the freshmen had
been boasting that they were too smart for the sophs and that they had
not been able to get the better of them in anything this semester, so
the sophs are wild. You are always fertile in suggestion, Janet, what
would you advise?"

Janet thoughtfully tapped the table with a paper-cutter. "I should
think they could appoint certain of the class to keep a watch on the
freshmen so as to find out where they are going to order their supper.
It will have to be from either Burton's or Fields'. Fields is cheaper,
but Burton has the better ices, and the freshmen will not spare expense
in matters of eating. You'd better tell the girl to get her class
together and place the situation before them."

"If they only knew where they were going to give the supper and when,"
remarked Teddy.

"They must find out," said Cordelia.

"How?" asked Lee.

"Through the ingenuity of their wits. It will be within the next two
weeks, and not a freshman will miss it," Cordelia told her.

"I know one thing we can do without compromising our dignity," said
Janet. "Each senior can try to make an engagement with a freshman for
one of the evenings of the two weeks. If any one of them declines an
invitation, it will probably be for some good reason. She will give the
reason frankly if it is not a secret, and if she doesn't, look out for
that date."

"She might give a false reason to put us off the track," suggested Lee.

"True; then all reasons must be followed up."

"I shall begin by inviting Nora Tuttle to a spread in our rooms," said
Lee. "That will leave eleven evenings to be filled by eleven of the
class."

"Each of us will take one," Cordelia said, "and if there are any who
refuse to help the sophs, two evenings will have to be taken by the
zealous. We'd better devise very different, sorts of invitations, for
of all things, we must keep the freshmen from suspecting."

"I know a wedding that is coming off on the evening of the third," said
Teddy; "I have cards for it, and I don't believe Carrie Swift ever lost
an opportunity of going to a wedding."

"We'll manage," concluded Janet, "but you must tell the sophs to keep
their eyes and ears open, Lee."

The girls parted with a fixed determination to help the sophs to play
their trick on the freshmen.

"If they hadn't boasted so vaingloriously," said Janet, "I wouldn't
have a thing to do with it. But they certainly deserve to be taken
down."

"They will be so flattered at these attentions from seniors," said Lee
who was in her element.

"You don't think it is a trifle undignified," said Janet.

"Why, no. We are simply helping our sister class, and will do nothing
that will bring a blush of shame to the cheek of the most proper one of
us," replied Lee.

In consequence of this decision, twelve pleased freshmen found
themselves selected for special attention from as many seniors, and
eleven eagerly accepted the invitations proffered them.

Janet had picked out a pretty, inoffensive, little lass named Lillie
Starr, who was in a fluster of excitement when Janet made a visit
to her room. Lillie being fair, blue-eyed, short and plump, greatly
admired Janet's dark tresses and eyes, her superior height and elegant
slimness, and felt it a supreme honor when Janet asked if she would
attend a garden fête with her at Florence Worthington's. The rushing
season being over, Lillie felt that Janet could have no object in
seeking her out beyond a desire for her company.

"Oh, I'd simply love to go," she cried. "You are too sweet for anything
to ask me, Miss Ferguson. When is it to be?"

"On next Friday from five to eight," Janet told her.

The girl's face fell. "Oh, dear," she said, "how unfortunate, I have an
engagement for that evening. I'm afraid I can't possibly go."

"Dear me," said Janet, "I'm so sorry. Is it very important?"

Lillie's innocent little face took on the color of a deep pink rose.
"Why yes, I'm afraid so," she faltered.

"You couldn't put it off?" said Janet, sweetly. "If it is with one of
the girls, perhaps she wouldn't mind. I'm sure I'd fix another date if
I could, but you see I can't, and I told Miss Worthington I wanted to
bring you."

"Dear me." Lillie looked troubled. An invitation to the Worthingtons'
was something that seldom fell to the lot of a freshman. It was
considered a very great privilege to be admitted to one of these
functions. At sight of the girl's real perplexity, Janet's conscience
began to smite her, yet she remembered her sophomores and went
obdurately on.

"If it is with one of the girls," she repeated.

"If it were only with one of the girls, I would give it up," declared
Lillie, "for I do so much want to go."

"Oh, then," Janet smiled knowingly, "it is with a young man. Of course,
my dear, I couldn't expect you to break such an engagement. I hope you
have been able to get a real nice chaperon who will be neither too
strict nor too lenient."

"Oh, Miss Ferguson," Lillie protested, "it isn't with any young man.
I'd rather go with you than with anybody I know. I really would. Just
think, why you are a senior and president of your class and you are so
perfectly fine."

"Am I?" Janet laughed. "I'm not all you imagine, my child, but if your
engagement isn't with a girl, nor yet with a young man, it is very
mysterious. Oh, no, no," as Lillie looked as if she might give too
broad a hint, "don't tell me. I shall feel dreadfully if you do; as if
I were guilty of a vulgar curiosity. I am exceedingly sorry that you
must refuse me, but if you have this mysterious engagement there is
nothing to do but to ask some one else. I hoped you would let me give
you this little treat, but I haven't a doubt but you will have a fine
time wherever you may be going."

Poor Lillie's distress increased. "I've a good mind to give it up,"
she said. "I would in a minute if I hadn't promised. It wouldn't be
exactly—exactly loyal you know; the girls would—"

"Not another word," said Janet, lifting her hand. "I feel ashamed now
for having urged you."

Then feeling that she had made capital of the girl's unsuspicious
eagerness, her tenderheartedness made her say: "Never mind, lassie,
perhaps some other nice something will come along later. If it does
I'll save it for you, shall I?"

This friendliness completely won Lillie. "Oh, how dear you are, Miss
Ferguson. I'm so much obliged to you. Please don't think it is because
I don't want to go. If it were anything else than this certain thing,
I'd tell you. You do believe me and you do understand, don't you?"

"I understand perfectly," Janet told her. "I certainly hope you will
enjoy your evening."

And then she took her leave, half regretting the part she had played.

"For diplomacy commend me to Janet Ferguson," said Cordelia when Janet
told her story.

"I did feel mean to deceive that poor child," said Janet with a
contrite look.

"There you go with your overstrained sympathies," said Lee. "I think
you were the cleverest thing to pick out that silly little creature.
Why, she gave herself away without half trying. If I had been she, I
would have accepted and would have sent you a piteous note at the last
moment pleading illness."

"We can't all use your Machiavellian methods," said Teddy, a trifle
severely. "We haven't any of us forgotten your sophomore year when
you went around for a week with your face tied up after some such
performance."

Lee laughed. "Yes, and what a time I had keeping that wad of paper in
my cheek to make it look swollen. I think as a class we were far ahead
of the present one, and I don't wonder they come to us for pointers.
You certainly have shown astuteness, Janet."

"I'll make it up to that young one in some Way," Janet declared. "I
can't bear to feel that her confidence is misplaced."

"Of course you'll do some Quixotic thing," Lee replied. "However, that
is not our affair. Friday evening it certainly must be. Now the next
thing is to find out the where, since we have found out the when. I
must hie me to the sophs at once with this piece of news. How they will
adore you, Janet. I've a mind not to tell them anything more than that
we know it is to be Friday evening. You didn't happen to get the hour
exactly?"

"I think we can approximate it, for I told my young miss that the fête
would be from five to eight and she seemed to think that if she were
to go early, she would not get back in time; and if she were to wait
till late, she would not be able to get away soon enough, so we can
presuppose that it will be about six o'clock."

"More cleverness on the part of Janet. I certainly shall not have you
getting all the credit."

"There is no reason why I should. I am not particularly proud of
playing the part of detective. I'd rather no one but ourselves should
know."

"Your will is law, oh princess. I'll not tell." And Lee dashed out.

In about an hour, she came dashing back again.

"Such fun," she said, flinging herself upon the divan.

"Do tell us," said Teddy interestedly.

Lee punched a pillow into a more satisfactory position, and began:
"Well, I went from here straight to Madge Ostrom's room. She certainly
is a bright girl, and was perfectly delighted to have my information.
So she and I went to Burton's."

"Then they knew it was Burton's," interrupted Cordelia.

"No, they didn't. They only suspected and Madge simply put up a bluff.
She said if they denied all knowledge of it at Burton's, she would
apologize for the mistake and go to Fields'."

"Wasn't she afraid they'd know she wasn't a freshman?"

"No, of course not. They can't remember all the girls in this
institution."

"I should think the freshmen would have taken the precaution to warn
them to take no orders from any but certain individuals," said Janet.

"Well they didn't do that, for I suppose they thought it had been kept
a dead secret. Well, Madge's plan worked beautifully. Says Madge: 'I'd
like to make a little inquiry into the order that was given for Friday
evening, at the college you know, for the freshman class.'

"'Yes,' says Madam Burton, as pleasant as pie.

"'Will you look on your books and see if it was ordered for five or six
o'clock?' says Madge.

"Madam looked and told her the order was for six. 'That was what we
were afraid,' said Madge. 'We think it had better come at five or
earlier to—" Then she turned to me. 'Where did we decide to have it
sent?' she asked.

"'To Irving Hall, Room 12,' said madam reading from her book.

"'Of course. How stupid of me,' said Madge. 'That comes of so many
having a finger in the pie. Please send it before five to that address,
madam.' So she promised to send it promptly.

"Now the only fear is that the freshmen will find out that the change
has been made, but Madge is going to watch her chance to go in there
again Friday afternoon and see if it is all right. I don't think the
freshmen have a suspicion that we have an inkling of what is going on.
How I should like to be in the thick of it when the time comes, but I
suppose I don't dare; that's the trouble of being a senior."

"Of course you don't dare. I think you've done quite enough as it is,"
said Janet reprovingly. "I'd hate to have it known that any of us were
mixed up in the under classmen's squabbles."

"I think you're right," Cordelia agreed. "We've done all that could be
expected of us, and now we can wash our hands of the affair. Going to
the fête, Janet?"

"Yes, with Teddy and without Miss Starr."

"At any rate you can't call it an ill-starred enterprise," said Lee,
who could never resist pun-making.

The girls groaned and Lee laughed gleefully.

Promptly at half-past four on Friday afternoon, two sophomores were
at the rear entrance of Irving Hall. The rest of the class had gained
an entrance into Room 12 and were quietly waiting there. As Burton's
wagon drove up, the sentry sophs directed them to Room 12 and the
various baskets, trays and freezers were borne in to where, the now
triumphant, girls were ready to receive them. At this hour, most of the
freshmen were busy at basketball, tennis, or were required to be at the
gymnasium, so there was little danger of their appearing so early.

When the sophomores had locked the door after the departing carriers,
they hastily made ready the feast and fell to with a relish, soon
leaving little to suggest that a banquet had been served.

Lee was sauntering through the corridor arm in arm with Cordelia at the
moment when the advance guard of freshmen arrived.

"Why, the door is locked," exclaimed one of them to the other.

"Of course; you don't suppose they would be so silly as to leave it
open for the sophs," was the reply.

"I hear dishes rattling," said the first. "Some one must have come to
make the preparations. I thought we were early enough."

"You didn't see any sophs on watch, did you?" said the second girl
looking around anxiously.

"I haven't seen a soph this last hour," replied the first. She rattled
the knob of the door gently and a voice cried: "Who is there?"

"Fan Armistead and Kate Bradley."

"Just wait a minute," came from the inside.

"It's all right," said Fan. "They are getting things ready."

Presently more freshmen strolled up and these began to grow impatient.

"They've no right to keep us out," was the complaint.

"Bang on the door, Fan." And this Fan did.

"How many are there out there?" was asked by some one in the room.

"Oh, a dozen or more."

"Well, wait a little longer. We're afraid of a rush from the other
class."

Lee and Cordelia did not pause in their walk but Lee could not forbear
a giggle which brought a dozen pairs of eyes upon her.

"There is something queer," said one of the freshmen in a low tone;
"there are two of the seniors on the watch. We'd better be prepared for
a rush, girls."

And the under classmen bunched themselves together more closely. And
now the numbers increased till nearly the whole class stood without,
then Fan called,—

"You can let us in, now, girls. We're about all here and no sophs
about."

A pause and then the door was flung wide open to disclose to the
astonished freshmen a group of sated sophomores gloating over the few
sparse remains of a feast for which the freshmen had paid.

"Who says we haven't brains enough to outwit 1906?" cried Madge Ostrom.

"Where is thy feast, oh Barmecide?" cried another.

"What's the matter with 1905?" shouted a voice above the rest and the
answer came: "She's all right!"

"It was their last chance of the year," said Lee to a discomfited
freshman who stopped her to pour out her grievance as she left the
hall. "I'd almost be willing to pay for the supper for the sake
of seeing the fun." This, however, was small satisfaction to the
disappointed freshman.

The result of the trick was more far-reaching to Janet than she could
foresee, as after having paid her debt of contrition to Lillie Starr,
that young woman attached herself so ardently to the senior as to give
Janet some trouble. Yet she was too conscious of her treachery to the
girl to repel her advances and finally grew to accept her innocent
admiration with a patience that brought down jeers from Lee.

"How you can let that foolish little snip follow you about and hang on
your neck in the way she does is more than I can see," said Lee.

"I must," Janet told her. "I don't dare to tell her that I did not
select her from the whole class because of her attractions as an
individual, but because of her gullible qualities, and I must pay the
penalty of my indiscretion and deceit."

"Deceit, nonsense! As if any girl would be so namby-pamby as to bear a
grudge in a matter of that kind. Why, it was perfectly legitimate under
the circumstances, and no more than the rest of us did. The freshmen
shouldn't have been so boastful if they wanted to keep the sophomores
from showing their spirit."

"I can't help it; it weighs on my conscience," said Janet, "and some
day in a moment of remorse, I shall tell her the whole truth and allow
her to despise me all she wants to."

"She won't; I can tell you that. She will admire you for your
cleverness and will comfort herself by remembering that you have
encouraged her devoted attentions ever since, so she will believe you
are fond of her in spite of anything you may say."

"Well, I am fond of her," Janet confessed. "She is frank and innocent
and well-meaning."

"Deliver me from well-meaning innocents," said Lee. "I can't stand
stupidity."

"Oh, Lillie isn't stupid," said Janet. "She is simply unsuspicious and
has the saving grace of a sense of humor."

But Lee would not believe in Lillie's claims and Janet dropped the
subject. Later on came an hour when she did make her confession to the
younger girl.

"I can't bear to have you say such things to me," she said impatiently
when Lillie had offered her a compliment upon her nobility of
character. "I'm not noble and I have treated you abominably."

"Treated me?" Lillie's eyes opened wide. "You've been perfectly lovely
to me. You've been kinder than any one in the college, and I am very
proud of it."

"You needn't be," returned Janet, gloomily; "I have deceived you."

"Do you mean you don't really like me?" asked Lillie, anxiously.

"Oh, I like you. I am fond of you, but I first sought you out because
I knew you were likely to be unsuspecting and I had promised to do my
share in finding out about that class supper that the sophs stole."
Then she told the whole story.

The girl was silent for some moments after Janet had concluded her
confession; then the smiles began to dimple around her mouth and
finally she burst out into a laugh.

"I ought to be furious," she said, "but I'm not, for it is so funny,
and after all, Janet, it is a sort of relief to discover that you are
like other girls."

"Heavens!" exclaimed Janet. "Did you suppose I was a creature of finer
mould? I am not near so nice as other girls. I should think that I had
proved that."

"Yet, you are much nicer," Lillie decided, "for I do not know another
one who would have been honest enough to tell me this when there was no
reason in the world why she should except that she was too true to keep
it to herself."

"Then you do forgive me for making you a cat's paw?"

"Yes, on one condition: that you will go home with me to spend the
Easter holidays. I have been dying to ask you, and have been afraid, so
now I have a new claim on you, I am going to make the most of it."

Janet hesitated, but saw that she was in for it and in the end, she
gave a reluctant consent. She announced her intention to the amused
group she found in Cordelia's room that afternoon.

"Poor, poor Janet," said Teddy with mock sympathy. "What an ordeal.
Have you any idea of what you are getting into?"

"No, I haven't, but I'd go if her parents were ragpickers."

"I shall be wild to hear your report," said Lee. "Promise to keep back
nothing."

"I'll promise no such thing," said Janet. "It's my affair, I'll have
you to know," and she refused to mention the subject to her intimates
again.

The visit was made and Janet returned from it in such good spirits that
the others were consumed with curiosity.

"Did you have a good time?" asked Lee at the first opportunity.

"Fine," returned Janet.

"Are they nice people?"

"Lovely."

"Did you meet any of their friends?"

"Yes."

"Did you like them? Were they nice?"

"The very best in the place."

"Oh, Janet, you are the most unsatisfactory person when you choose to
be. Tell me about it." Lee was fairly put out.

"I have told you. I had a fine time. The Starrs are lovely people.
Their friends are the best families in the place. What more do you want
to know?"

"I want to know what you did."

"I ate and slept and drove and walked and enjoyed myself generally. In
fact, I scarce ever had a more delightful holiday."

Lee looked at her with an injured expression upon her face, but seeing
that she would get nothing further from so non-committal a person, she
left her without another word, and Janet laughed softly to herself as
she heard her departing footsteps.



CHAPTER XIX

FIELD DAY

IT was one day just at the beginning of the year's finals that Janet
met Lee harrying through the corridor on her way to Phelps 7 with
Mascot in her arms.

"Where in the world are you going with that cat?" she asked.

"I'm going to take him with me to exam," Lee answered.

"Lee Penrose, are you really?"

"Truly I am. He is so good-natured that he will keep perfectly still,
if I hold him in my lap."

"But why such a frivolous performance at such a serious time? I thought
you were worried over your biology."

"So I am. That is why I am taking this furry old dear with me. What's
the use of having a mascot if you can't make use of it at critical
times like this?" grumbled Lee.

"I'd like to see Professor Weatherby's face if he catches sight of him."

"Well, if you happen to be looking, you will see. You will be there,
won't you?"

"Certainly I shall be there."

"I'm going to sit very far back. Come take a place by me, Janet, and
keep me in countenance."

"I shall do nothing of the kind. Your sins be upon your own head. What
are you going to do if Professor Weatherby brings you up standing? I
should think you had been deprived of about as many privileges as your
record will stand."

"Oh, if he discovers me, there will be nothing to do but tell him
the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and let him say whether
I have not a perfectly legitimate right to use Mascot as a means to
a good end. I don't want to fail, and if there is anything that can
prevent it, whether philosophical or superstitious, I'll employ the
means. Mascot represents superstition to be sure, but my own stand in
believing that good is in all things makes up for my philosophical
attitude."

"Tell that to Professor Weatherby and see what he says."

"I think you might give the sustaining influence of your friendly
presence, Janet," said Lee, wheedlingly.

"No, I shall be of no use in the carrying out of your philosophy.
Mascot is for the good of the whole class and I'll profit just as much
by my position at the other end of the room as if I were to sit next
you."

"That is a mean advantage to take of my sacrifice for common good. I
didn't think you, Janet Ferguson, would be willing to share a benefit
and avoid the risks."

"Go and get Cordelia," said Janet; "she is always ready for anything in
the way of an innovation."

"You know Mascot is always good with you. You have a soporific
influence upon him, a sort of Mrs. Winslow's soothing syrup effect, and
that is why I particularly want you to be near at hand."

But Janet was obdurate. "I would be a pretty president," she said, "if
I were to do anything that would bring reproof from the faculty at this
juncture. I must maintain such dignity as I have because of what is
expected of me, otherwise, Lee, I wouldn't mind, I must confess."

"Oh, all right then," said Lee. "Come, Mascot, you are beginning to
wriggle. I'm afraid you are going to be obstreperous. If you happen to
get one of your contrary attacks, I don't know what I am to do to keep
you from prancing all over the place."

"Put him in a valise or basket or something," suggested Janet. "I'd
provide some bits of food to stop his mouth if he begins to cry. I'd
chain him to the handle of whatever you put him in. You can leave the
lid open and he will keep quiet, I think. I've seen persons travel with
cats carried in that way."

"I'll do it," declared Lee. "Your suggestion is worth something if your
rashness isn't." And she walked off carrying Mascot under her arm.

Janet heard a protesting meow from the cat as the two disappeared.

A half hour later all was quiet in Phelps 7. Nothing was heard but the
scratching of pens and the rattling of paper as the anxious students
struggled through their task. Professor Weatherby gave notably hard
examinations and even the most persistent "grind" felt shaky. Presently
the silence was broken by a plaintive wail from the back of the room.
Every head was instantly raised. There was not a girl present who did
not recognize Mascot's voice.

Professor Weatherby looked up and frowned, then rose and slowly paced
down the aisle. In the back row sat Lee, her long skirts covering the
valise in which crouched Mascot greedily devouring the bits of chicken
which Lee had provided as a means of stopping any demonstrations on his
part. Having comfortably lunched, the surfeited little beast would curl
up and sleep comfortably in the straw "telescope" in which he had been
conveyed to the room.

Professor Weatherby made his rounds, observed nothing and returned to
his desk. Lee's red Cheeks and the twinkling smile of triumph which
played around her mouth failed to betray her. For a moment, Janet
was completely demoralized and the words on her paper danced before
her eyes. Then she caught sight of Charity Shepherd in front of her,
industriously plying her fountain pen and oblivious to all save the
matter in hand, so Janet braced by this example, nerved herself against
further interruption and went on with her work, completing it just as
the hour was up.

Lee slipped out before any one else, and Janet saw her hurrying down
the corridor lugging her basketful of cat.

"Lee," she called, "Lee Penrose, wait."

But Lee did not pause till she was safely outside the building. There
Janet found her sitting on the lower step.

"Well," said Janet, "how did he behave?"

"Beautifully for a while," returned Lee; "then he got restless. When he
began to howl, I thought my last hour had come, but I surreptitiously
fed him chicken sandwiches till I thought he would burst. I never
knew a cat with such a capacity, and the worst of it is, that I
spent my last penny on the sandwiches and my meal ticket has run
out. That's what one gets for sacrificing herself to the good of her
fellow creatures. I don't doubt but that the entire class will pass a
brilliant examination because of Mascot. In spite of having to divide
my attention between Mascot and my paper, I am pretty sure that I came
through all right. How about you, Janet?"

"I think I did fairly well, though when I heard that heart-rending
meow, I thought nothing would save me. Only the sight of Charity
Shepherd applying her conscience to her daily need gave me stamina
enough to go on. Since you have so nobly thrown yourself into the
breach, Lee, there is one thing I can do and that is to stand between
you and starvation. Come, we'll go to Burton's and have a sumptuous
lunch."

"Janet," cried Lee, "you have saved my life. Help me to tote Mascot
back to his lair, and I'll show you how generously I can appreciate
your invitation."

"We must certainly have Mascot in evidence on Field Day," said Janet as
the two girls sat eating their ice cream. "I think that will certainly
be allowable."

"Of course," returned Lee. "What's the good of having a mascot, if he
can't be placed on exhibition at such times."

"It will be our last chance, too," sighed Janet.

"Yes, by all means let us have him on the field. We'll go get some
ribbons for him on our way home. He must be brave in the class colors."

"You might lead him at the head of the class," suggested Lee. "He shall
have a splashing bow on his collar and a long ribbon by which he can be
led. Won't he look fine? We will be very impressive with our mascot."

The plan was highly approved by the rest of the class, and was carried
out as far as possible. On the morning of Field Day, the seniors
marched with banners waving and colors flying, Janet heading the
procession with Mascot daintily stepping along and quite the envy of
all the under classmen. To be sure Mascot sat down once or twice, and
Janet had to coax him to make him go on. He was rather erratic, too, in
his methods of procedure, but all went fairly well while he was within
the bounds of his familiar haunts. Once outside he made an obstinate
stand, set up a dismal howl and refused to behave with the docility
expected of him. So in desperation, Janet picked him up and carried him
into the gymnasium. There the limit of his endurance was reached, for
just as all were seated Mascot made a wild dash for freedom. The ribbon
which held him was suddenly jerked out of Janet's hand and she saw a
gray streak clashing across the floor.

A cheer went up from the juniors to whose side he had fled. He was
caught by Jessie Turner and held aloft in triumph. There was a buzz
of: "The seniors' mascot has come to our side! Good luck for us! Three
cheers for 1904!" and so on.

For a moment, the seniors and sophomores were staggered. It was so
evident a desertion on the part of Mascot. "And so much depends upon
the attitude of mind," said Charity Shepherd, really concerned for the
success of her class.

Mascot's struggles did not allow Jessie to hold him long under control,
though she kept a firm hold upon the long ribbon and it seemed for
a time as if he must be fairly captured. He was not easily quieted,
however, for at each approach of Jessie's or any of her classmates
he turned with a fizz of "Keh-h-h!" And showed his teeth, savagely
growling.

Then in spite of Jessie's efforts to hold him, he tugged at the string
till she was obliged to follow him as he dashed around the gallery,
frantic to escape. Jessie still retained her hold while he led her a
chase up and down the gallery and finally he rushed over to the other
side.

Then Janet watched her chance. Every girl was on her feet and the
seniors held their breath. It would be worse than failure to allow
their well-beloved Mascot to be retained as a captive, and the
excitement was intense. Janet stepped out to meet the on-coming pair,
the hunter and the hunted. She felt in her little chatelaine bag for
a small penknife, and, as Mascot raced past, with a deft movement she
caught the ribbons that held him and cut them through.

Mascot, now free, ran to the end of the gallery, leaped upon the
railing and sat there. At the first symptom of an outburst from the
excited students, the now thoroughly frightened creature began to look
about wildly, and Janet approached him cautiously.

"Kitty, kitty, poor Mascot," she said softly stroking his bristling fur.

He looked up into her face, gave a piteous meow and allowed her to pick
him up.

She gathered him into her arms and as she walked back to her place she
said: "Don't cheer, please," for she saw the sophomores making ready to
give their yell. She took her seat amid a soft clapping of hands, and,
holding Mascot by the collar, she succeeded at last in stroking him
into a serene frame of mind.

[Illustration: SHE CAUGHT THE RIBBONS AND CUT THEM THROUGH.]

Then the players went on with their basketball. First victory for
the juniors, then a steady increase in the gains of the seniors till
triumphantly they retired from the field. All of Janet's friends
crowded around her. She had succeeded in so quieting Mascot that he
purred in her arms, and resented none of the attentions bestowed upon
him by the victorious seniors. Had he not been fondled and fed by each
one of them for over three years?

It was only when strangers approached, that he became restless, and
considering that his nerves had received more than an ordinary shock
that day, Janet concluded to take him back at the end of the first game.

"Positively his last appearance upon any stage," she announced as she
held him high for a moment. "He retires from public office upon this
auspicious occasion."

As she bore him away, there arose three cheers for Mascot from the
enthusiastic sophomores, but Mascot was then safe within the familiar
precincts of Hopper Hall, and made no demonstration beyond a sudden
clutching of Janet's sleeve with his curved claws.

"You are the only girl I ever saw who had a knife sharp enough to cut
anything at one fell blow," said Lee as she attended Janet to Hopper
Hall. "How on earth did you come by it?"

"My brother Stuart gave it to me the last time he was here," Janet told
her. "I had lost mine and he made me a parting present of this."

"It saved the day," declared Lee, "for Jessie would have held on like
grim death rather than let Mascot get back to us. Poor little dear he
was so scared," she softly stroked the cat's head, "but it certainly
gave an added excitement to the morning. I was afraid the faculty would
be wrathy, but they really behaved very well."

Janet laughed. "I'd like one of them to hear your superior tone,
Professor Weatherby, for example."

"Don't mention him to me," said Lee; "it gives me cold creeps whenever
I think of that last exam. No more of those forevermore. Do you dare
look for any honors, Janet?"

"Not I. If I get through with a modest number of fair exams, I shall
be satisfied. No fellowships nor anything of that kind for this young
person. I leave brilliant records for individuals like you."

"Oh, dear," said Lee, "I don't expect to do more than squeeze through.
Cordelia is the only one, then, who may look for great things."

"Cordelia probably will take honors," said Janet, "and I shouldn't
wonder if Charity did, too."

"Shall we take Mascot this afternoon?" asked Lee.

"No, I think he may be spared any more excitement. We are sure of
tennis; the others can't touch us, so there is no use in repeating this
morning's performance."

But once more did Mascot appear in public that year, and that was on
Class Day when Cordelia read the class will and bequeathed the gray cat
to the sister class.

Then while Janet held him, he was divested of his big bow of pink
and brown and, with much ceremony, was dressed up in the sophomore
colors. Then he was handed over to Madge Ostrom, the president of the
sophomores and was borne away in triumph. Yet it must be said that this
relinquishing of possession caused more than one pang to the members of
the senior class.

"It is the beginning of the end," sighed Lee to Janet as the latter
resumed her seat. "How much we shall be giving up."

"And how much we shall be gaining," returned Janet cheerfully. "Think
of the lovely feeling of having your mother always close at hand, and
the comfortable knowledge that you can have whatever you want to eat,
not to mention the bliss of sleeping late in the mornings, when you are
sleepy, without thinking of chapel."

"There are compensations," admitted Lee.

"How lovely some of our girls look to-day," said Janet. "What could be
sweeter than our lassies?"

"Molasses," returned Lee promptly.

And Janet almost laughed outright though Charity was at that moment
reading a solemn composition in the form of an ode, which, as Janet
said afterward, made her feel as if it were not worth while to take any
view of life except the old one that they had come to call "the worm's
eye view." She lapsed into quite a pensive mood and sat wondering what
duties and sorrows lay in the life before her.

Lee, however, speedily recovered her spirits, and vowed that she should
allow no one to dwell upon the future, so that because of her gayety no
merrier seniors ever enlivened Class Day.



CHAPTER XX

PARTINGS

COMMENCEMENT Day was over and it had passed much as Janet had declared
that it would when she arranged her bulletin for the benefit of Mr.
Evans some months before. During the week there was a constant influx
of visiting parents, friends, and relatives.

Stuart and a company of his friends were on hand to send flowers
and to occupy every moment not necessarily taken up in exercises
and ceremonies. Departing students came and went from the various
dormitories and lodgings, making farewell calls. Groups gathered about
the grounds. Few students were seen walking alone for almost every one
had some friend among her classmates from whom it would be hard to
part, and the melancholy countenances were beginning to outnumber the
merry ones.

As Janet walked arm in arm with Teddy across the campus after the
alumnae dinner, she saw Mr. Evans waiting at the gate just ahead.

"Bless me!" she ejaculated.

"What is the matter?" asked Teddy.

"Nothing except that I promised Mr. Evans long ago that I would try
to afford him an opportunity to-day to receive my congratulations. I
suppose I must walk a little way with him," she said apologetically.
"Don't wait for me, Ted. I'll be back before long," and she turned off
leaving Teddy to join Cordelia and Lee who were not far behind.

An hour later she came into the twilight quiet of the room where Teddy
sat with her elbows on the window-sill gazing out into the dusky
street. There were boxes and trunks standing about ready to be sent off
in the morning, and overhead was a tramping back and forth. Lee, who
had put off her packing till the last minute, was now giving all her
attention to getting her trunks and boxes ready. Peals of laughter now
and then floated in through the open window, and up the street came an
excited chatter from groups of girls and young men passing by.

Janet seated herself by Teddy's side. "All by her loney, is she? Where
is everybody, Ted?"

"Papa and mamma have gone to dine with the Whitelys'."

"Why didn't you go?"

"I didn't want to."

"It is too bad that we must be deprived of the boys' company this
evening. Stuart said they must take the seven-thirty if they would
reach the university in time for some sort of lark they were going to
have. I wonder if we will be as enthusiastic alumnae as they are. The
parents wanted to take in all the fun going, so they decided to go on
with the laddies and leave me to follow. They actually believed I would
be ready to go with them. Mamma understood, but I had hard work making
father and Stuart see that I simply could not leave till to-morrow.
Come, Ted, let's go up and see the girls. We know Lee is packing, but
we also know that Lee would rather have the interruption than not, and
maybe we can help her. If we can't be of any use, it will be fun to
watch her, and we'll keep Cordelia from badgering her. I am glad there
is nothing compelling this evening, and that we are left to follow the
dictates of our own sweet wills. The alumnae dinner was quite as much
as we could stand after the rest of the excitement."

Bright lights were burning in the rooms overhead which were strewn from
end to end with Lee's possessions. "If you can find an inch not already
occupied, you may have it," said Cordelia looking around at them from
behind a pile of boxes.

"How will I ever get through?" said Lee pausing in her frantic rush. "I
have always made it my rule never to do to-day what I can put off till
to-morrow, but there are moments when I wish I were not so virtuous
about it. My, but I am warm."

"We will all pitch in and help," said Janet, "and then we'll have time
to cool off before bedtime."

"I am too dead tired to move," said Cordelia. "I was ambitious enough
to get up early and finish my packing this morning by crack o' day. I
knew if I didn't do that, I should find half of Lee's belongings in my
trunks when I got home and half of mine would be in hers. I simply had
to do it in self-defense, but I feel as if I had not been in bed for a
week."

"And we have to start so early," complained Lee. "They will come for
the trunks at six o'clock."

"All the more reason that we should get things straightened out so
you won't have to be up half the night. Goodness, if my impedimenta
cluttered up Teddy's room in this way, I'd hear from her."

"I can't help it," said Lee from the depths of a clothes-press. "I
thought I had so little that it wouldn't take me any time to pack but I
have been dragging out stuff for the last hour and there is no end to
it. Where did I get it all? What do I want with it? How am I going to
dispose of it? I feel as if I had nightmare."

"Lee's bump of order ought to have developed in all these years she has
been pounding away at mathematics," said Teddy, "but I don't believe
the bump is one bit bigger. Let me feel, Lee," and she began to tousle
Lee's hair, already in a disheveled condition from frequent divings
into closets and trunks.

"Don't get into a scrap, girls," said Cordelia; "it's too warm. There
you go, Lee. I knew that tower of boxes would fall before you got them
stowed away."

"I'll pick them up," said Teddy, pouncing upon scattered sewing
materials, stocks, and ribbons. "Come, Janet, you and I will take one
trunk and pack it decently so that when Lee gets home she will at least
have part of her wardrobe in presentable condition. You fold and I'll
pack."

"Angels of light!" exclaimed Lee gratefully. "You have saved my life."

All three worked away faithfully till finally the room began to assume
a more orderly appearance, and Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh,
you blessed friends in need," she exclaimed, "how I shall miss you. It
is a mournful time if one dwells upon it. Even Charity Shepherd broke
down this afternoon and as for Pen Robbins, she fairly swam away in her
own tears. What shall you do when you get home, Ted?"

"Oh, I don't know. I shall probably be very industrious for a time, and
will join clubs of an inspiring nature, and will be so didactic and
superior for a year that all my friends will begin to hate me, then
I'll gradually ease down till I get like ordinary mortals and it will
be possible to live with me. What shall you do, Cordelia?"

"Oh, I suppose I shall teach. Lee and I have a great scheme of getting
positions together, but probably she will be in Maine and I will go to
Florida; it generally works that way."

"Any one who has received a fellowship as you have done, Cordelia,
ought certainly to be able to find a good position nearer home, when
she is ready to take it."

"Maybe. I am not planning very far ahead. What do you mean to do,
Janet?"

A happy, half dreamy look came into Janet's eyes. "I am not looking
ahead very far, either," she replied. "Sufficient unto the day is the
joy thereof. I am going to have home and mother first of all, and I
want to gloat over them. I want to soak myself in the bliss of being
at home for the next month and after that comes Polly and Ted and the
Lilly of the field."

"You're not going to be bothered with that Starr child, are you?" asked
Lee pushing back her hair from a perspiring face. "I think it is too
funny how Janet has always had a silly little freshman tagging after
her ever since she became a soph."

"You can't call Polly silly," said Janet on the defensive, "and of
course I shall invite Lillie to visit me when she was good enough to
have me last Easter. Surely you haven't forgotten that."

Lee clashed a tray into a big trunk and sat down with a sigh of relief.
"Of course I remember it," she said reproachfully, "and I think it is
high time you told us about that, you provoking secretive creature."

"It is my last chance, isn't it?" said Janet putting her feet up
comfortably on a low box. "Well, girls, I will satisfy your curiosity
since it is positively our last evening together. The Starrs have
the loveliest home imaginable; beautiful grounds and a most artistic
interior. Mr. Starr is a man of fine parts, as they used to say, and
Mrs. Starr is one of the most cultivated women I have met for some
time. They were simply adorable and I was fêted and entertained without
stint. I met several celebrities at their house. I was invited to dine
with the governor and altogether I had a perfectly stunning time."

She paused and in a half embarrassed way said: "I don't suppose any of
you ever knew that Mark, the perfect man, is a cousin of the Starrs and
that he was their guest at the same time that I was."

"Janet Ferguson!" Lee flung down the box she was tying up. "The idea of
your never telling us that before. I think that was horridly mean of
you."

"Why?" asked Janet. "Are you specially interested in the information?"

"No,—yes, I mean," Lee replied. "I'd have been much nicer to him if I
had known."

Janet laughed. "You little wretch. I believe you would, and yet you
have always half despised Lillie."

"I haven't really," Lee told her, "but I liked to tease you because
you had always been so sly and mum about that visit to her. I took the
pains to inquire about her and knew she belonged to the four hundred."

"Then you deserve that I should tell you nothing. I suppose," Janet
went on with a show of indifference, "that you all know that Mr. Evans
is full professor, or will be next year."

"I heard it rumored, but I did not know that it was an absolute fact,"
said Cordelia. "I am glad they chose him, for I think he deserves it.
How did you hear, Janet?"

"He told me himself this evening."

"Why, of course; you know him quite well after spending ten days in
the same house with him. You certainly can't be charged with being
expansive, Janet, and yet you aren't usually reticent. I should never
have called you an uncommunicative person."

Janet only smiled in reply and Lee announced that as she had no more
receptacles for her belongings, that what she couldn't pack, she would
have to give away.

"I'll bestow them all upon the washerwoman," she said with a
comprehensive sweep of the hand which included the scattered articles
remaining upon bed, chairs and floor. "Let's go into the other room;
it's pretty well stripped, but it is cooler than in here."

"It is still cooler in our rooms," said Janet, "for we haven't had any
lights. You two had better come down there and cool off."

"I couldn't," said Lee. "Every bone in my body aches. I might get there
by sliding down the balusters, but I never could get back again. No,
thank you, Janet; I'll stand by the old ship till I have to be taken
off by a life-line."

Teddy and Janet lingered by the door with many words of regretful
parting, and then went down to their own rooms.

"Well, Ted, it's all over; we are no longer undergraduates," said
Janet, striking a match and lighting the gas.

"And this is the last evening you and I will ever be here together,"
said Teddy, with a catch in her voice.

Janet turned and looked at her.

The tears were running down Teddy's cheeks. "Why, Ted, why, Ted," she
said commiseratingly.

"Oh, I know it doesn't mean so much to you," said Teddy, reckless of
disclosing her real feelings. "You never cared very much. You always
loved Polly more, and even Lillie, but I loved you best, Janet. I
always did. Nobody else ever came first, and now we are going to
part and you will drift away from me altogether. We shall never be
classmates and roommates as we have been in this old place; never
again."

"Why, Ted, why, Ted," Janet spoke in an expostulatory voice, for Teddy
was now sobbing broken-heartedly.

"It is all true," said Teddy. "You never loved me half as much as I
have loved you."

Janet knelt down by the side of the bowed figure and put her arms
around the weeping girl. "You dear Teddy," she said, "just because I
am so used to you and haven't been demonstrative, do you think I don't
care? Do you think that any one will ever quite take your place? Teddy,
why you are a part of me, almost. I shouldn't think of making much fuss
over my own right hand for example. Have you felt that way all along?
Have you been hurt and indignant when I have made love to Polly? Have
you, Ted? Have I hurt you?"

"Sometimes," acknowledged Teddy with tears in her voice.

"You dear old goose, don't you ever feel so again. Don't cry, Ted, you
blessed old stand-by. I shall have to do without Polly and I shall be
able to very well, and as for Lillie I don't care a picayune about that
baby's blandishments, but Ted, I could never get along without you.
Don't you believe me?" She drew Teddy closer to her and snuggled her
face down against the wet cheek. "Please don't cry, Ted," she urged.

"I won't if I can help it," said Teddy sitting up and drying her eyes,
"but now I have started, I don't seem to be able to stop. I know I am
silly, Janet. I don't usually make such a show of myself, do I? But,"
the tears flowed again, "it's so hard to part from you," she sobbed.

"But you believe that I love you, and that you must always come first
among all my girl friends, you do believe it?"

"Yes, I do now."

"And you are satisfied?"

"Yes, oh, yes. Kiss me, Janet; you never do, you know."

Janet put her arms around her and kissed the trembling lips again and
again, the tears standing in her own eyes. "We are going to see each
other again in a month, remember," she said, "and Ted, let me tell you
something; I'd rather have you for my sister than any girl under the
sun. I think—I hope some day you will be. Do you hope so, too, Ted?"

Teddy did not answer, but buried her face on Janet's shoulder. "Stuart
never liked a girl so well as he does you," Janet went on, "and when he
has finished his medical course, why then, Ted—"

"Don't say any more," pleaded Teddy in muffled tones, "or I shall cry
again."

"There's something else I want to tell you," Janet continued. "Not
another soul knows it. Ted, I don't think this is the last time we
shall be together in this old town, for Ted—"

Teddy lifted up her head. "Janet, I believe I can guess; it is Mark,
the perfect man."

Janet nodded, then said hastily: "Oh, not yet. Some day, two or three
years from now, maybe. He—he told me this evening. I didn't suppose,"
she continued half to herself, "that was what he meant by its being
encouraging."

"What encouraging?"

"I told him once that if I ever had to choose another place of
residence than my own home I'd prefer this to any. Wasn't I a goose to
tell him that? But I never dreamed then."

"Dreamed what?" Teddy was never very subtle.

"That he—that he would say what he did this evening. I never began to
suspect till last Easter when we were both at the Starrs'."

"You never told me that he was there," said Teddy reproachfully. "You
might have trusted me, Janet."

"I know I might, but I couldn't. I was half scared and half happy and I
wasn't sure and I remembered 'the hero,' and so I made Lillie promise
that she wouldn't say anything about it, because she was beginning
to tease me and I told her it might be the means of breaking up my
friendship with Mark—the perfect man, I mean. I was just in that state
of mind when a little too much one way or the other would have made all
the difference in the world, so I scared her into keeping quiet about
it, and I wouldn't let him see me very often for the same reason. I've
told you first of all, Ted, and that is why I can't cry to-night; I am
too happy."

By common consent, they moved toward the dimness of the outer room,
and sat together by the window, arms on sill and heads touching. The
twinkling lights of Hopper Hall on the other side of the college campus
began to disappear one by one. The tramping up-stairs had ceased.

From the gardens across the way came a night breeze rose-sweet. The
honeysuckle climbing over the porch below the window, sent up a waft of
perfume now and then from its few opened buds. A rapid footstep echoed
along the pavement once in a while. Then came silence and the coolness
of the night's late hours. The two girls sat without speaking for a
long time, then Janet arose and laid a caressing hand on Teddy's head.

"It's all over for Cordelia, and Lee and the others, but for me it has
just commenced. There will be much more of it in the years ahead of us,
Teddy, for where I go you will have to come."

Presently their lights, too, were out, and only the shining stars
looked down upon the sleeping town.








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