Grace Harlowe\'s Second Year at Overton College - Jessie Graham Flower
Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College
By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M.
PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
Copyright, 1914
[Illustration: The Door Was Cautiously Opened to Mrs. Elwood.]
CONTENTS
I. Overton Claims Her Own
II. The Unforseen
III. Mrs. Elwood to the Rescue
IV. The Belated Freshman
V. The Anarchist Chooses Her Roommate
VI. Elfreda Makes a Rash Promise
VII. Girls and Their Ideals
VIII. The Invitation
IX. Anticipation
X. An Offended Freshman
XI. The Finger of Suspicion
XII. The Summons
XIII. Grace Holds Court
XIV. Grace Makes a Resolution
XV. The Quality of Mercy
XVI. A Disgruntled Reformer
XVII. Making Other Girls Happy
XVIII. Mrs. Gray's Christmas Children
XIX. Arline's Plan
XX. A Welcome Guest
XXI. A Gift to Semper Fidelis
XXII. Campus Confidences
XXIII. A Fault Confessed
XXIV. Conclusion
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The Door Was Cautiously Opened to Mrs. Elwood.
"It Is My Theme."
Each Girl Carried an Unwieldy Bundle.
The Two Boxes Contained Elfreda's New Suit and Hat.
Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College
CHAPTER I
OVERTON CLAIMS HER OWN
"Oh, there goes Grace Harlowe! Grace! Grace! Wait a minute!" A
curly-haired little girl hastily deposited her suit case, golf bag, two
magazines and a box of candy on the nearest bench and ran toward a
quartette of girls who had just left the train that stood puffing
noisily in front of the station at Overton.
The tall, gray-eyed young woman in blue turned at the call, and, running
back, met the other half way. "Why, Arline!" she exclaimed. "I didn't
see you when I got off the train." The two girls exchanged affectionate
greetings; then Arline was passed on to Miriam Nesbit, Anne Pierson and
J. Elfreda Briggs, who, with Grace Harlowe, had come back to Overton
College to begin their second year's course of study.
Those who have followed the fortunes of Grace Harlowe and her friends
through their four years of high school life are familiar with what
happened during "Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School,"
the story of her freshman year. "Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at
High School" gave a faithful account of the doings of Grace and her
three friends, Nora O'Malley, Anne Pierson and Jessica Bright, during
their sophomore days. "Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High
School" and "Grace Harlowe's Senior Year at High School"
told of her third and fourth years in Oakdale High School and of how
completely Grace lived up to the high standard of honor she had set for
herself.
After their graduation from high school the four devoted chums spent a
summer in Europe; then came the inevitable separation. Nora and Jessica
had elected to go to an eastern conservatory of music, while Anne and
Grace had chosen Overton College. Miriam Nesbit, a member of the Phi
Sigma Tau, had also decided for Overton, and what befell the three
friends as Overton College freshmen has been narrated in "Grace
Harlowe's First Year at Overton College."
Now September had rolled around again and the station platform of the
town of Overton was dotted with groups of students laden with suit
cases, golf bags and the paraphernalia belonging peculiarly to the
college girl. Overton College was about to claim its own. The joyous
greetings called out by happy voices testified to the fact that the next
best thing to leaving college to go home was leaving home to come back
to college.
"Where is Ruth?" was Grace's first question as she surveyed Arline with
smiling, affectionate eyes.
"She'll be here directly," answered Arline. "She is looking after the
trunks. She is the most indefatigable little laborer I ever saw. From
the time we began to get ready to come back to Overton she refused
positively to allow me to lift my finger. She is always hunting
something to do. She says she has acquired the work habit so strongly
that she can't break herself of it, and I believe her," finished Arline
with a sigh of resignation. "Here she comes now."
An instant later the demure young woman seen approaching was surrounded
by laughing girls.
"Stop working and speak to your little friends," laughed Miriam Nesbit.
"We've just heard bad reports of you."
"I know what you've heard!" exclaimed Ruth, her plain little face alight
with happiness. "Arline has been grumbling. You haven't any idea what a
fault-finding person she is. She lectures me all the time."
"For working," added Arline. "Ruth will have work enough and to spare
this year. Can you blame me for trying to make her take life easy for a
few days?"
"Blame you?" repeated Elfreda. "I would have lectured her night and day,
and tied her up to keep her from work, if necessary."
"Now you see just how much sympathy these worthy sophomores have for
you," declared Arline.
"Do you know whether 19-- is all here yet?" asked Anne.
"I don't know a single thing more about it than do you girls," returned
Arline. "Suppose we go directly to our houses, and then meet at Vinton's
for dinner to-night. I don't yearn for a Morton House dinner. The meals
there won't be strictly up to the mark for another week yet. When the
house is full again, the standard of Morton House cooking will rise in a
day, but until then--let us thank our stars for Vinton's. Are you going
to take the automobile bus? We shall save time."
"We might as well ride," replied Grace, looking inquiringly at her
friends. "My luggage is heavy and the sooner I arrive at Wayne Hall the
better pleased I shall be."
"Are you to have the same rooms as last year?" asked Ruth Denton.
"I suppose so, unless something unforeseen has happened."
"Will there be any vacancies at your house this year?" inquired Arline.
"Four, I believe," replied Anne Pierson. "Were you thinking of changing?
We'd be glad to have you with us."
"I'd love to come, but Morton House is like home to me. Mrs. Kane calls
me the Morton House Mascot, and declares her house would go to rack and
ruin without me. She only says that in fun, of course."
"I think you'd make an ideal mascot for the sophomore basketball team
this year," laughed Grace. "Will you accept the honor?"
"With both hands," declared Arline. "Now, we had better start, or we'll
never get back to Vinton's. Ruth, you have my permission to walk with
Anne as far as your corner. It's five o'clock now. Shall we agree to
meet at Vinton's at half-past six? That will give us an hour and a half
to get the soot off our faces, and if the expressman should experience a
change of heart and deliver our trunks we might possibly appear in fresh
gowns. The possibility is very remote, however. I know, because I had to
wait four days for mine last year. It was sent to the wrong house, and
traveled gaily about the campus, stopping for a brief season at three
different houses before it landed on Morton House steps. I hung out of
the window for a whole morning watching for it. Then, when it did come,
I fairly had to fly downstairs and out on the front porch to claim it,
or they would have hustled it off again."
"That's why I appointed myself chief trunk tender," said Ruth slyly.
"That trunk story is not new to me. This time your trunk will be waiting
on the front porch for you, Arline."
"If it is, then I'll forgive you your other sins," retorted Arline.
"That is, if you promise to come and room with me. Isn't she provoking,
girls? I have a whole room to myself and she won't come. Father wishes
her to be with me, too."
"I'd love to be with Arline," returned Ruth bravely, "but I can't afford
it, and I can't accept help from any one. I must work out my own problem
in my own way. You understand, don't you?" She looked appealingly from
one to the other of her friends, who nodded sympathetically.
"She's a courageous Ruth, isn't she?" smiled Arline, patting Ruth on the
shoulder.
At Ruth's corner they said good-bye to her. Then hailing a bus the five
girls climbed into it.
"So far we haven't seen any of our old friends," remarked Grace as they
drove along Maple Avenue. "I suppose they haven't arrived yet. We are
here early this year."
"I'd rather be early than late," rejoined Miriam. "Last year we were
late. Don't you remember? There were dozens of girls at the station when
we arrived. Arline and Ruth are the first real friends we have seen so
far. Where are Mabel Ashe and Frances Marlton, Emma Dean and Gertrude
Wells, not to mention Virginia Gaines?"
"If I'm not mistaken," said Elfreda slowly, her brows drawing together
in an ominous frown, "there are two people just ahead of us whom we have
reason to remember."
Almost at the moment of her declaration the girls had espied two young
women loitering along the walk ahead of them whose very backs were too
familiar to be mistaken.
"It's Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton, isn't it?" asked Anne.
Grace nodded. They were now too close to the young women for further
speech. A moment more and the bus containing the five girls had passed
the loitering pair. Neither side had made the slightest sign of
recognition. A sudden silence fell upon the little company in the bus.
"It is too bad to begin one's sophomore year by cutting two Overton
girls, isn't it?" said Grace, in a rueful tone.
"Overton girls!" sniffed Elfreda. "I consider neither Miss Wicks nor
Miss Hampton real Overton girls."
"They should be by this time," reminded Miriam Nesbit mischievously.
"They have been here a year longer than we have."
"Years don't count," retorted Elfreda. "It's having the true Overton
spirit that counts. You girls understand what I mean, even if Miriam
tries to pretend she doesn't."
"Of course we understand, Elfreda," soothed Anne. "Miriam was merely
trying to tease you."
"Don't you suppose I know that?" returned Elfreda. "I know, too, that
you don't wish me to say anything against those two girls. All right, I
won't, but I warn you, I'll keep on thinking uncomplimentary things
about them. Last June, after that ghost party, I promised Grace I would
never try to get even with Alberta Wicks and Mary Hampton, but I didn't
promise to like them, and if they attempt to interfere with me this
year, they'll be sorry."
"Oh, there's the campus!" exclaimed Arline as, turning into College
Street, the long green slope, broken at intervals by magnificent old
trees, burst upon their view. "Hello, Overton Hall!" she cried, waving
her hand to that stately building. "Doesn't the campus look like green
plush, though! I love every inch of it, don't you?" She looked at her
companions and, seeing the light from her face reflected on theirs,
needed no verbal answer to her question. A moment later she signaled to
the driver to stop the bus. "I shall have to leave you here," she said.
"I'll see you at Vinton's at six-thirty."
Grace handed out her luggage to her, saying: "You have so much to carry,
Arline. Shall I help you?"
"Mercy, no," laughed Arline. "'Every woman her own porter,' is my
motto." Opening her suit case she stuffed the candy and magazines into
it, snapping it shut with a triumphant click. Then with it in one hand,
her golf bag in the other, she set off across the campus at a swinging
pace.
"She's little, but she has plenty of independence and energy," laughed
Miriam. "Hurrah, girls, there's Wayne Hall just ahead of us."
It was only a short ride from the spot where Arline had left them to
Wayne Hall. Grace sprang from the bus almost before it stopped, and ran
up the stone walk, her three friends following. Before she had time to
ring the door bell, however, the door opened and Emma Dean rushed out to
greet them. "Welcome to old Wayne," she cried, shaking hands all around.
"I heard Mrs. Elwood say this morning you would be here late this
afternoon. I've been over to Morton House, consoling a homesick cousin
who is sure she is going to hate college. I've been out since before
luncheon. Had it at Martell's with my dolorous, misanthropic relative. I
tried to get her in here, but everything was taken. We are to have four
freshmen, you know."
"I knew there were four places last June, but am rather surprised that
no sophomores applied for rooms. Have you seen the new girls?"
Emma shook her head. "They hadn't arrived when I left this morning. I
don't know whether they are here now or not. I'm to have one of them.
Virginia Gaines has gone to Livingstone Hall. She has a friend there.
Two of the new girls will have her room. Florence Ransom will have to
take the fourth."
"Where's Mrs. Elwood?" asked Miriam.
"She went over to see her sister this afternoon. She's likely to return
at any minute," answered Emma.
"Do you think we ought to wait for her?" Grace asked anxiously.
"Hardly," said Anne, picking up her bag, which she had deposited on the
floor.
"Come on, I'll lead the way," volunteered Elfreda, starting up the
stairs.
"Won't Mrs. Elwood be surprised when she comes home? She'll find us not
only here, but settled," laughed Grace.
But it was Grace rather than Mrs. Elwood who was destined to receive the
surprise.
CHAPTER II
THE UNFORESEEN
Following Elfreda, the girls ran upstairs as fast as their weight of
bags and suit cases would permit. Miriam pushed open her door, which
stood slightly ajar, with the end of her suit case. "Any one at home?"
she inquired saucily as she stepped inside.
"Looks like the same old room," remarked Elfreda. "No, it isn't, either.
We have a new chair. We needed it, too. You may sit in it occasionally,
if you're good, Miriam."
"Thank you," replied Miriam. "For that gracious permission you shall
have one piece of candy out of a five-pound box I have in my trunk."
"Not even that," declared Elfreda positively. "I said good-bye to candy
last July. I've lost ten pounds since I went home from school, and I'm
going to haunt the gymnasium every spare moment that I have. I hope I
shall lose ten more; then I'll be down to one hundred and forty pounds
and--" Elfreda stopped.
"And what?" queried Miriam.
"I can make the basketball team," finished Elfreda. "What is going on in
the hall, I wonder?" Stepping to the door she called, "What's the
matter, Grace? Can't you get into your room?"
"Evidently not," laughed Grace. "It is locked. I suppose Mrs. Elwood
locked it to prevent the new girls from straying in and taking
possession."
"H-m-m!" ejaculated Elfreda, walking over to the door and examining the
keyhole. "Your supposition is all wrong, Grace. The door is locked from
the inside. The key is in it."
"Then what--" began Grace.
"Yes, what?" quizzed Elfreda dryly.
"'There was a door to which I had no key,'" quoted Miriam, as she joined
the group.
"Don't tease, Miriam," returned Grace, "even through the medium of Omar
Khayyam. The key is a reality, but there is some one on the other side
of that door who doesn't belong there. Whether she is not aware that she
is a trespasser I do not know. However, we shall soon learn." Grace
rapped determinedly on one of the upper panels of the door.
"I'll help you," volunteered Elfreda.
"And I," agreed Anne.
"My services are needed, too," said Miriam Nesbit.
Four fists pounded energetically on the door. There was an exclamation,
the sound of hasty steps, the turning of a key in the lock, and the door
was flung open. Facing them stood a young woman no taller than Anne,
whose heavy eyebrows met in a straight line, and who looked ready for
battle at the first word.
"Will you kindly explain the reason for this tumult?" she asked in a
freezing voice.
"We were rather noisy," admitted Grace, "but we did not understand why
the door should be locked from the inside."
"Is it necessary that you should know?" asked the black-browed girl
severely.
Grace's clear-cut face flushed. "I think we are talking at cross
purposes," she said quietly. "The room you are using belongs to my
friend Anne Pierson and to me. During our freshman year it was ours, and
when we left here last June it was with the understanding that we should
have it again on our return to Overton."
"I know nothing of any such arrangement," returned the other girl
crossly. "The room pleases me, consequently I shall retain it. Kindly
refrain from disturbing me further." With this significant remark the
door was slammed in the faces of the astonished girls. A second later
the click of the key in the lock told them that force alone could effect
an entrance to the room.
"Open that door at once," stormed Elfreda, beating an angry tattoo on
the panel with her clenched fist.
From the other side of the door came no sound.
"Never mind, Elfreda," said Grace, fighting down her anger. "Mrs. Elwood
will be here soon. There is some misunderstanding about the rooms. I am
sure of it."
"See here, Grace Harlowe, you are not going to give up your room to that
beetle-browed anarchist, are you?" demanded Elfreda wrathfully.
A peal of laughter went up from three young throats.
"You are the funniest girl I ever knew, J. Elfreda Briggs," remarked
Miriam Nesbit between laughs. "That new girl looks exactly like an
anarchist--that is, like pictures of them I've seen in the newspapers."
"That's why I thought of it, too," grinned Elfreda. "I once saw a
picture of an anarchist who blew up a public building and he might have
been this young person's brother. She looks exactly like him."
"Stop talking about anarchists and talk about rooms," said Anne. "I must
find some place to put my luggage. Besides, time is flying. Remember, we
are to be at Vinton's at half-past six."
"I should say time _was_ flying!" exclaimed Grace, casting a hurried
glance at her watch. "It's ten minutes to six now. It will take us
fifteen minutes to walk to Vinton's. That leaves twenty-five minutes in
which to get ready."
"There is no hope that the trunks will arrive in time for us to dress,"
said Miriam positively. "Come into our room and we'll wash the dust from
our hands and faces and do our hair over again."
"All right," agreed Grace, casting a longing glance at the closed door.
"We'll have to put our bags in your room, too. I don't wish to leave
them in the hall for unwary students to stumble over."
"Bring them along," returned Miriam. "No one shall accuse us of
inhospitality."
"I wish Mrs. Elwood were here." Grace looked worried. "We mustn't stay
at Vinton's later than half-past seven o'clock. There are so many little
things to be attended to, as well as the important question of our
room."
Arriving at Vinton's at exactly half-past six o'clock, they found Arline
Thayer and Ruth Denton waiting for them at a table on which were covers
laid for six.
"We've been waiting for ages!" exclaimed Arline.
"But you said half-past six, and it is only one minute past that now,"
reminded Grace, showing Arline her watch.
"Of course, you are on time," laughed the little girl. "I should have
explained that I'm hungry. That is why I speak in ages instead of
minutes."
"Your explanation is accepted," proclaimed Elfreda, screwing her face
into a startling resemblance to a fussy instructor in freshman
trigonometry and using his exact words.
The ready laughter proclaimed instant recognition of the unfortunate
professor.
"You can look like any one you choose, can't you, Elfreda?" said Arline
admiringly. "I think your imitations of people are wonderful."
"Nothing very startling about them," remarked the stout girl lightly.
"I'd give all my ability to make faces to be able to sing even 'America'
through once and keep on the key. I can't sing and never could. When I
was a little girl in school the teachers never would let me sing with
the rest of the children, because I led them all off the key. It was
very nice at the beginning of the term, and I sang with the other
children anywhere from once to half a dozen times, never longer than
that. I had the strongest voice in the room and whatever note I sang the
rest of the children sang. It was dreadful," finished Elfreda
reminiscently.
"It must have been," agreed Miriam Nesbit. "Can you remember how you
looked when you were little, Elfreda?"
"I don't have to tax my brain to remember," answered Elfreda. "Ma has
photographs of me at every age from six months up to date. To satisfy
your curiosity, however," her face hardened until it took on the stony
expression of the new student who had locked Grace out of her room, "I
will state that--"
"The Anarchist! the Anarchist!" exclaimed Ruth and Miriam together.
"What are you two talking about?" asked Ruth Denton.
"About the Anarchist," teased Miriam. "Wait until you see her."
"You have seen her," laughed Grace. "Elfreda just imitated her to
perfection." Thereupon Grace related their recent unpleasant experience
to Arline and Ruth.
"What are you going to do about it?" asked Arline.
"We will see Mrs. Elwood as soon as we return to Wayne Hall, and ask her
to gently, but firmly, request the Anarchist to move elsewhere."
"Why do you call her the Anarchist?" asked Arline.
"Elfreda, please repeat your imitation," requested Miriam, her black
eyes sparkling with fun.
Elfreda complied obediently.
"You understand now, don't you?" laughed Grace.
"I should be very stupid if I didn't," declared Arline.
"Of course she's dark, with eyebrows an inch wide. You can't expect me
to give an imitation of anything like that," apologized Elfreda.
"I think I should recognize her on sight," smiled Ruth Denton.
"We are miles off our original subject," remarked Grace. "Elfreda hasn't
told us how she looked as a child."
"All right. I'll tell you now," volunteered J. Elfreda graciously. "I
had round, staring blue eyes and a fat face. I wore my hair down my back
in curls--that is, when it was done up on curlers the night before--and
it was almost tow color. I had red cheeks and was ashamed of them, and
my stocky, square-shouldered figure was anything but sylphlike. I was
not beautiful, but I was very well satisfied with myself, and to call me
'Fatty' was to offer me deadly insult. That is about as much as I can
remember," finished the stout girl.
"Really, Elfreda, while you were describing yourself I could fairly see
you," smiled Arline.
"Now it's your turn," reminded Elfreda. "I imagine you were a cunning
little girl."
Arline flushed at the implied compliment. "Father used to call me
'Daffydowndilly,'" she began. "My hair was much lighter than it is now,
but it has always been curly. I am afraid I used to be very vain, for I
loved to stand and smile at myself in the mirror simply because I liked
my yellow curls and was fascinated with my own smile. No one told me I
was vain, for Mother died when I was a baby, and even my governess
laughed to see me worship my own reflection. When I was twelve years
old, Father engaged a governess who was different from the others. She
was a widow and had to support herself. She was highly educated and one
of the sweetest women I have ever known. When she took charge of me I
was a vain, stupid little tyrant, but she soon made me over. She
remained with me until I entered a prep school, then an uncle whom she
had never seen died and left her some money. She's coming to Overton to
see me some day. Overton is her Alma Mater, too."
"You are next, Grace," nodded Ruth.
"There isn't much to tell about me," began Grace. "I was the tomboy of
Oakdale. I loved to climb trees and play baseball and marbles. I was
thin as a lath and like live wire. My face was rather thin, too, and I
remember I cried a whole afternoon because a little girl at school
called me 'saucer-eyes.' There wasn't a suspicion of curl in my hair,
and I wore it in two braids. I never thought much about myself, because
I was always too busy. I was forever falling in with suspicious looking
characters and bringing them home to be fed. Mother used to throw up her
hands in despair at the acquaintances I made. Then, too, I had a
propensity for bestowing my personal possessions on those who, in my
opinion, needed them. Mother and I were not always of the same opinion.
I wore my everyday coat to church for a whole winter as a punishment for
having given away my best one without consulting her. With me it was a
case of act first and think afterward. I don't believe I was
particularly mischievous, but I had a habit of diving into things that
kept Mother in a state of constant apprehension. Father used to laugh at
my pranks and tell Mother not to worry about me. He used to declare that
no matter into what I plunged I would land right side up with care. I
was never at the head of my classes in school, but I was never at the
foot of them. I was what one might call a happy medium. My little-girl
life was a very happy one, and full to the brim with all sorts of
pleasant happenings."
"I never heard you say so much about yourself before, Grace," observed
Elfreda.
"I'm usually too much interested in other people's affairs to think of
my own," laughed Grace. "I have never heard Anne say much about her
childhood, either. She must have had all sorts of interesting
experiences."