Betty Wales, Freshman. Dunton Edith Kellogg

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      “I thought it was all right myself,” said Adelaide Rich, “but I walked home with a girl named Alford who was dreadfully disgusted. She said it was all cut and dried, and wanted to know who asked Eleanor Watson to write us a constitution. She said she hoped that hereafter we wouldn’t sit around tamely and be run by any clique.”

      “Well, somebody must run us,” said Betty consolingly. “Those girls know one another and the rest of us don’t know any one well. I think it will all work around in time. They will have their turns first, that’s all.”

      “Perhaps,” admitted Adelaide doubtfully. Her pessimistic acquaintance had obtained a strong hold on her.

      “And the next thing is the sophomore reception,” said Rachel.

      “And Mountain Day right after that,” added Betty.

      “What?” asked Helen and Roberta together.

      “Is it possible that you don’t know about Mountain Day, children?” asked Mary Brooks soberly. “Well, you’ve heard about the physical tests for the army and navy, haven’t you? This is like those. If you pass your entrance examinations you are allowed a few weeks to recuperate, and then if you can climb the required mountain you can stay on in college.”

      “How very interesting!” drawled Roberta, who had some idea now how to take Mary’s jibes. “Now, Betty, please tell us about it.”

      Betty explained that the day after the sophomore reception was a holiday, and that most of the girls seized the opportunity to take an all-day walk or drive into the country around Harding.

      “Let’s all ask our junior and senior friends about the nicest places to go,” said Rachel, emphasizing “junior and senior” and looking at Mary. “Then we can make our plans, and engage a carriage if we want one. I should think there might be quite a rush.”

      “You should, should you?” jeered Mary. “My dear, every horse that can stand alone and every respectable vehicle was engaged weeks ago.”

      “No one has engaged our lower appendages,” returned Katherine. “So if worse comes to worst, we are quite independent of liveries. Which of us are you going to take to the sophomore reception?”

      “Roberta, of course,” said Mary. “Didn’t you know that Roberta and I have a crush on each other? A crush, my dears, in case you are wanting to know, is a warm and adoring friendship. Sorry, but I’m going out this evening.”

      “Has she really asked you, Roberta?” asked Betty.

      “Yes,” said Roberta.

      “How nice! I’m going with a sophomore whose sister is a friend of Nan’s.”

      “And Hester Gulick is going to take me–she’s my friend from home,” volunteered Rachel.

      “I was asked to-day,” added Helen. “After the class-meeting an awfully nice girl, a junior, came up here. She said there were so many of us that some of the juniors were going to help take us. Isn’t it nice of them?”

      Nobody spoke for a moment; then Katherine went on gaily. “And we other three have not yet been called and chosen, but I happen to know that it’s because so many people want us, and nobody will give up. So don’t the rest of you indulge in any crowing.”

      “By the way, Betty,” said Rachel Morrison, “will you take some more dancing pupils? I was telling two girls who board down the street about our class and they said they wanted to learn before the reception and would much rather come here than go to that big class that two seniors have in the gym. But as they don’t know you, they would insist on paying, just as they would at the other class.”

      Betty looked doubtfully at Roberta. “Shall we?” she said.

      “I don’t mind,” answered Roberta, “if only you all promise not to tell my father. He wouldn’t understand. Do you suppose Miss Watson would play?”

      “If not, I will,” said Mary Rich.

      “And we could use the money for a house spread,” added Betty, “since we all help to earn it.”

      “And christen the chafing-dish,” put in Katherine.

      “Good. Then I’ll tell them–Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays,” said Rachel; and the dinner-table dissolved.

      CHAPTER IV

      WHOSE PHOTOGRAPH?

      The dancing class went briskly on; so did the Livy class and the geometry, the English 1, the French required and the history elective. The freshmen were getting acquainted with one another now, and seldom confused their classmates with seniors or youthful members of the faculty. They no longer attempted to go out of chapel ahead of the seniors, or invaded the president’s house in their frantic search for Science Hall or the Art Gallery. For October was fast wearing away. The hills about Harding showed flaming patches of scarlet, and it was time for the sophomore reception and Mountain Day. Betty was very much excited about the reception, but she felt also that a load would slip off her shoulders when it was over. She was anxious about the progress of the dancing pupils, who had increased to five, besides Helen and Adelaide, and for whom she felt a personal responsibility, because the Chapin house girls persisted in calling the class hers. And what would father say if they didn’t get their money’s worth? Then there was Helen’s dress for the reception, which she was sure was a fright, but couldn’t get up the courage to inquire about. And last and worst of all was the mysterious grind-book and Dorothy King’s warning about father’s telegram to the registrar. She had never mentioned the incident to anybody, but from certain annoying remarks that Mary Brooks let fall she was sure that Mary knew all about it and that the sophomores were planning to make telling use of it.

      “How’s your friend the registrar?” Mary would inquire solemnly every few days. And if Betty refused to answer she would say slyly, “Who met you at the station, did you tell me? Oh, only Dottie King?” until Betty almost decided to stop her by telling the whole story.

      Two days before the reception she took Rachel and Katherine into her confidence about Helen’s dress.

      “You see if I could only look at it, maybe I could show her how to fix it up,” she explained, “but I’m afraid to ask. I’m pretty sure she’s sensitive about her looks and her clothes. I should want to be told if I was such a fright, but maybe she’s happier without knowing.”

      “She can’t help knowing if she stays here long,” said Rachel.

      “Why don’t you get out your dress, and then perhaps she’ll show hers,” suggested Katherine.

      “I could do that,” assented Betty doubtfully. “I could find a place to mend, I guess. Chiffon tears so easily.”

      “Good idea,” said Rachel heartily. “Try that, and then if she doesn’t bite you’d better let things take their course. But it is too bad to have her go looking like a frump, after all the trouble we’ve taken with her dancing.”

      Betty went back to her room, sat down at her desk and began again at her Livy. “For I might as well finish this first,” she thought; and it was half an hour before she shut the scarlet-covered book with a slam and announced somewhat ostentatiously that she had finished her Latin lesson.

      “And СКАЧАТЬ