A Girl of the Limberlost (Romance Classic). Stratton-Porter Gene

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СКАЧАТЬ after the nearest girl and in the press at the door touched her sleeve timidly.

      “Will you please tell me where the Freshmen go?” she asked huskily.

      The girl gave her one surprised glance, and drew away.

      “Same place as the fresh women,” she answered, and those nearest her laughed.

      Elnora stopped praying suddenly and the colour crept into her face. “I'll wager you are the first person I meet when I find it,” she said and stopped short. “Not that! Oh, I must not do that!” she thought in dismay. “Make an enemy the first thing I do. Oh, not that!”

      She followed with her eyes as the young people separated in the hall, some climbing stairs, some disappearing down side halls, some entering adjoining doors. She saw the girl overtake the brown-eyed boy and speak to him. He glanced back at Elnora with a scowl on his face. Then she stood alone in the hall.

      Presently a door opened and a young woman came out and entered another room. Elnora waited until she returned, and hurried to her. “Would you tell me where the Freshmen are?” she panted.

      “Straight down the hall, three doors to your left,” was the answer, as the girl passed.

      “One minute please, oh please,” begged Elnora: “Should I knock or just open the door?”

      “Go in and take a seat,” replied the teacher.

      “What if there aren't any seats?” gasped Elnora.

      “Classrooms are never half-filled, there will be plenty,” was the answer.

      Elnora removed her hat. There was no place to put it, so she carried it in her hand. She looked infinitely better without it. After several efforts she at last opened the door and stepping inside faced a smaller and more concentrated battery of eyes.

      “The superintendent sent me. He thinks I belong here,” she said to the professor in charge of the class, but she never before heard the voice with which she spoke. As she stood waiting, the girl of the hall passed on her way to the blackboard, and suppressed laughter told Elnora that her thrust had been repeated.

      “Be seated,” said the professor, and then because he saw Elnora was desperately embarrassed he proceeded to lend her a book and to ask her if she had studied algebra. She said she had a little, but not the same book they were using. He asked her if she felt that she could do the work they were beginning, and she said she did.

      That was how it happened, that three minutes after entering the room she was told to take her place beside the girl who had gone last to the board, and whose flushed face and angry eyes avoided meeting Elnora's. Being compelled to concentrate on her proposition she forgot herself. When the professor asked that all pupils sign their work she firmly wrote “Elnora Comstock” under her demonstration. Then she took her seat and waited with white lips and trembling limbs, as one after another professor called the names on the board, while their owners arose and explained their propositions, or “flunked” if they had not found a correct solution. She was so eager to catch their forms of expression and prepare herself for her recitation, that she never looked from the work on the board, until clearly and distinctly, “Elnora Cornstock,” called the professor.

      The dazed girl stared at the board. One tiny curl added to the top of the first curve of the m in her name, had transformed it from a good old English patronymic that any girl might bear proudly, to Cornstock. Elnora sat speechless. When and how did it happen? She could feel the wave of smothered laughter in the air around her. A rush of anger turned her face scarlet and her soul sick. The voice of the professor addressed her directly.

      “This proposition seems to be beautifully demonstrated, Miss Cornstalk,” he said. “Surely, you can tell us how you did it.”

      That word of praise saved her. She could do good work. They might wear their pretty clothes, have their friends and make life a greater misery than it ever before had been for her, but not one of them should do better work or be more womanly. That lay with her. She was tall, straight, and handsome as she arose.

      “Of course I can explain my work,” she said in natural tones. “What I can't explain is how I happened to be so stupid as to make a mistake in writing my own name. I must have been a little nervous. Please excuse me.”

      She went to the board, swept off the signature with one stroke, then rewrote it plainly. “My name is Comstock,” she said distinctly. She returned to her seat and following the formula used by the others made her first high school recitation.

      As Elnora resumed her seat Professor Henley looked at her steadily. “It puzzles me,” he said deliberately, “how you can write as beautiful a demonstration, and explain it as clearly as ever has been done in any of my classes and still be so disturbed as to make a mistake in your own name. Are you very sure you did that yourself, Miss Comstock?”

      “It is impossible that any one else should have done it,” answered Elnora.

      “I am very glad you think so,” said the professor. “Being Freshmen, all of you are strangers to me. I should dislike to begin the year with you feeling there was one among you small enough to do a trick like that. The next proposition, please.”

      When the hour had gone the class filed back to the study room and Elnora followed in desperation, because she did not know where else to go. She could not study as she had no books, and when the class again left the room to go to another professor for the next recitation, she went also. At least they could put her out if she did not belong there. Noon came at last, and she kept with the others until they dispersed on the sidewalk. She was so abnormally self-conscious she fancied all the hundreds of that laughing, throng saw and jested at her. When she passed the brown-eyed boy walking with the girl of her encounter, she knew, for she heard him say: “Did you really let that gawky piece of calico get ahead of you?” The answer was indistinct.

      Elnora hurried from the city. She intended to get her lunch, eat it in the shade of the first tree, and then decide whether she would go back or go home. She knelt on the bridge and reached for her box, but it was so very light that she was prepared for the fact that it was empty, before opening it. There was one thing for which to be thankful. The boy or tramp who had seen her hide it, had left the napkin. She would not have to face her mother and account for its loss. She put it in her pocket, and threw the box into the ditch. Then she sat on the bridge and tried to think, but her brain was confused.

      “Perhaps the worst is over,” she said at last. “I will go back. What would mother say to me if I came home now?”

      So she returned to the high school, followed some other pupils to the coat room, hung her hat, and found her way to the study where she had been in the morning. Twice that afternoon, with aching head and empty stomach, she faced strange professors, in different branches. Once she escaped notice; the second time the worst happened. She was asked a question she could not answer.

      “Have you not decided on your course, and secured your books?” inquired the professor.

      “I have decided on my course,” replied Elnora, “I do not know where to ask for my books.”

      “Ask?” the professor was bewildered.

      “I understood the books were furnished,” faltered Elnora.

      “Only to those bringing an order from the township trustee,” replied the Professor.

      “No! Oh no!” СКАЧАТЬ