Betty Wales, Freshman. Dunton Edith Kellogg

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СКАЧАТЬ Katherine or I go in to speak to her. Isn’t Katherine jolly? I’m so glad I don’t room alone.”

      “Are you?” asked Betty. “I can tell better after my roommate comes. Her name sounds quite nice. It’s Helen Chase Adams, and she lives somewhere up in New Hampshire. Did you ever see so many girls?”

      There seemed to be no end to them. They jostled one another good-naturedly in the narrow halls, swarmed, chattering, up the stairs, and filled the chapel to overflowing. It was very exciting to see the whole college together. Even Roberta Lewis condescended to look interested when Mary Brooks showed her the faculty rows, and pointed out the college beauty, the captain of the sophomore basket-ball team, and other local celebrities.

      “That’s evidently a freshman,” declared Eleanor Watson, who was in the row behind with Katherine and the Riches. “Doesn’t she look lost and unhappy?” And she pointed out a tall, near-sighted girl who was stalking dejectedly down the middle aisle.

      A vivacious little brunette was sitting next Eleanor. “Pardon me,” she said sweetly, “but did you mean the girl who’s gone around to the side and is now being received with open arms by most of the faculty? She’s a senior, the brightest girl in the class, we think, and she’s sad because she’s lost her trunk and broken her glasses. You’re a freshman, I judge?”

      “Thank you, yes,” gasped Eleanor with as much dignity as she could muster, and resolved to keep her guesses to herself in future.

      The chapel service was short but very beautiful. The president’s kindly welcome to the entering class, “which bids fair to be the largest in the history of the institution,” completely upset the composure of some of the aforesaid class, and a good many moist handkerchiefs grew moister, and red eyes redder during the prayer. But on the whole the class of 190- conducted itself with commendable propriety and discretion on this its first official appearance in the college world.

      “I’m glad I don’t have that French exam.,” said Katherine, as she and Betty picked out their umbrellas from a great, moist heap in the corner of the hall. “Come down with me and have a soda.”

      Betty shook her head. “I can’t. Nan asked me to go with her and Eth–I mean Miss Hale, but I simply must study.” And she hurried off to begin.

      At the entrance to the campus Eleanor Watson overtook her. “Let’s go home and study together,” she proposed. “I can’t see why they left this French till so late in the week, when everybody has it. What did you come to college for?” she asked abruptly.

      Betty thought a minute. “Why, for the fun of it, I guess,” she said.

      “So did I. I think we’ve stumbled into a pretty serious-minded crowd at Mrs. Chapin’s, don’t you?”

      “I like Miss Morrison awfully well,” objected Betty, “and I shouldn’t call Katherine Kittredge of Kankakee serious-minded, but – ”

      “Oh, perhaps not,” interrupted Eleanor. “Anyhow I know a lot of fine girls outside, and you must meet them. It’s very important to have a lot of friends up here. If you want to amount to anything, you can’t just stick with the girls in your own house.”

      “Oh, no,” said Betty meekly, awed by the display of worldly wisdom. “It will be lovely to meet your friends. Let’s study on the piazza. I’ll get my books.”

      “Wait a minute,” said Eleanor quickly. “I want to tell you something. I have at least two conditions already, and if I don’t pass this French I don’t suppose I can possibly stay.”

      “But you don’t act frightened a bit,” protested Betty in awestruck tones.

      “I am,” returned Eleanor in a queer, husky voice. “I could never show my face again if I failed.” She brushed the tears out of her eyes. “Now go and get your books,” she said calmly, “and don’t ever mention the subject again. I had to tell somebody.”

      Betty was back in a moment, looking as if she had seen a ghost. “She’s come,” she gasped, “and she’s crying like everything.”

      “Who?” inquired Eleanor coolly.

      “My roommate–Helen Chase Adams.”

      “What did you do?”

      “I didn’t say a word–just grabbed up my books and ran. Let’s study till Nan comes and then she’ll settle it.”

      It was almost one o’clock before Nan appeared. She tossed a box of candy to the weary students, and gave a lively account of her morning, which had included a second breakfast, three strawberry-ices, a walk to the bridge, half a dozen calls on the campus, and a plunge in the swimming-tank.

      “I didn’t dream I knew so many people here,” she said. “But now I’ve seen them all and they’ve promised to call on you, Betty, and I must go to-night.”

      “Not unless she stops crying,” said Betty firmly, and told her story.

      “Go up and ask her to come down-town with us and have a lunch at Holmes’s,” suggested Nan.

      “Oh you come too,” begged Betty, and Nan, amused at the distress of her usually self-reliant sister, obediently led the way up-stairs.

      “Come in,” called a tremulous voice.

      Helen Chase Adams had stopped crying, at least temporarily, and was sitting in a pale and forlorn heap on one of the beds. She jumped up when she saw her visitors. “I thought it was the man with my trunk,” she said. “Is one of you my roommate? Which one?”

      “What a nice speech, Miss Adams!” said Nan heartily. “I’ve been hoping ever since I came that somebody would take me for a freshman. But this is Betty, who’s to room with you. Now will you come down-town to lunch with us?”

      Betty was very quiet on the way down-town. Her roommate was a bitter disappointment. She had imagined a pretty girl like Eleanor Watson, or a jolly one like Katherine and Rachel; and here was this homely little thing with an awkward walk, a piping voice, and short skirts. “She’ll just spoil everything,” thought Betty resentfully, “and it’s a mean, hateful shame.” Over the creamed chicken, which Nan ordered because it was Holmes’s “specialty,” just as strawberry-ice was Cuyler’s, the situation began to look a little more cheerful. Helen Chase Adams would certainly be an obliging roommate.

      “Oh, I wouldn’t think of touching the room till you get back from your French,” she said eagerly. “Won’t it be fun to fix it? Have you a lot of pretty things? I haven’t much, I’m afraid. Oh, no, I don’t care a bit which bed I have.” Her shy, appealing manner and her evident desire to please would have disarmed a far more critical person than Betty, who, in spite of her love of “fine feathers” and a sort of superficial snobbishness, was at heart absolutely unworldly, and who took a naive interest in all badly dressed people because it was such fun to “plan them over.” She applied this process immediately to her roommate.

      “Her hat’s on crooked,” she reflected, “and her pug’s in just the wrong place. Her shirt-waist needs pulling down in front and she sticks her head out when she talks. Otherwise she’d be rather cute. I hope she’s the kind that will take suggestions without getting mad.” And she hurried off to her French in a very amiable frame of mind.

      Helen Chase Adams thanked Nan shyly for the luncheon, escaped from the terrors of a tête-à-tête with an unfamiliar grown-up on the plea of having to unpack, СКАЧАТЬ