"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."
"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."