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."
"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.