CHAPTER VIIHER OWN WAY
The Service Bureau lost no time in preparing and posting notices on the college bulletin board, and on those of the various campus houses, to the effect that they were prepared to take care of any requests for general services that might be made, and the immediate response with which their venture met was gratifying in the extreme. Certain of the club members found their spare time fully occupied in tutoring freshmen, while those who were skilled needlewomen were kept busy mending, making silk blouses, kimonos and even simple styles of gowns. Grace had thoughtfully placed a second sewing machine in the sewing room, and it never stood idle. There were requests for all sorts of services such as hair dressing, manicuring and countless small labors which affluent students were glad to turn over to their needy classmates.
Grace and Louise Sampson spent many hours of time and thought upon the new venture. It required tact and judgment to select the various girls for the various labors. First there was the customer to please. Second the fact thateach member of the club was anxious to be given the opportunity to earn a little extra money. It was wonderful, too, the amount of hitherto undiscovered ability which came to light at the call for service, and it was not long before Nettie Weyburn had acquired considerable reputation as a manicurist, while Ethel Hilton gained lasting laurels as a hair dresser and Mary Reynolds proved herself a competent tutor. Hilda Moore became a fad among certain girls who loathed letter writing and willingly paid her for taking their dictation and typing their home letters, while Cecil Ferris stood alone as an expert mender of silk stockings. Louise Sampson made silk blouses. Several members specialized on kimonos. Two girls were kept constantly busy on hand-painted post cards, posters and cunning little luncheon favors. There were also occasional requests for a maid or companion for some special affair. In fact the high standard of excellence which the Service Bureau aimed for, and obtained, caused its popularity to increase rapidly.
There was but one member of this earnest and busy household to whom the Bureau meant nothing. That member was Jean Brent. So far she had discovered absolutely nothing she could do to earn money. She had not the patience to tutor, she loathed the bare idea of performingpersonal services for others, and she could not sew a stitch. Nevertheless the fact that she needed money perpetually stared her in the face. True she had written to Miss Lipton for a loan, and the money had been promptly sent her. She had repaid Grace and Evelyn the small sums they had advanced her, but the remainder of the money had dwindled away so rapidly she could hardly have given an account of the way in which it had been spent.
Now her thoughts turned to her trunks of unused finery. What possible objection could Miss Harlowe have to her selling what was rightfully hers? If she wished to dispose of certain of her own possessions it was surely no one’s affair save her own. Althea Parker, who was Evelyn’s friend, and the leader of a clique of the richest girls at Overton, had been given an opportunity to see the contents of one of the trunks and had gone into ecstacies over the dainty hats and frocks Jean had displayed for her benefit. “For goodness’ sakewheredid you get such lovely things?” had been Althea’s curious question. “They must have cost a lot of money.”
“Do you think the girls in your set would be interested in them?” Jean had asked, ignoring the other girl’s question. “I—I should like to sell them to any one who wants them. I musthave some money. I need it at once.”
“Sell them?” Althea’s eye-brows had been elevated in surprise. “How funny.” Then her natural selfishness coming strongly to the surface, she had said hastily. “I’d love to have that green chiffon evening gown. It’s never been worn, has it?” She decided it was not her business if Miss Brent chose to sell her clothes. Jean had gravely assured her that everything in the trunk was perfectly new and fresh, and Althea had, then and there, bargained for almost a hundred dollars’ worth of finery, and promised to interest the girls of her set in Jean’s possessions.
It was not until after Althea had gone that Jean remembered Grace’s objection to her proposed sale. She decided that she could not have the sale after all. She would sell Althea the things she wished and tell her the circumstances. But when she laid the matter before Althea the latter had said lightly, “Oh, don’t let a little thing like that worry you. It’s none of Miss Harlowe’s business. Besides, I’ve told my friends, and they are dying to see your things. Evelyn told me to-day that Miss Harlowe was going to New York City on Friday night. You can have the girls come up here on Saturday afternoon. I’ll invite Evelyn to luncheon and keep her away until after six o’clock. Shewouldn’t like it if she knew. She’s a regular goody-goody this year. What you must do is to get the things out of the other trunks. Then the girls can see them. I’ll come to-morrow for these things I’ve selected; so have them wrapped up for me. If we manage it quietly no one need be the wiser, for the girls won’t breathe a word of it to a soul.”
Actuated by her need of money, Jean swallowed her scruples and obeyed Althea’s commands implicitly. Under the pretext of rearranging her wardrobe, she spent her spare time in the trunk room going over her effects and picking out those articles most likely to appeal to her customers, and by Saturday everything was in readiness for the sale. Evelyn, unsuspecting and jubilant over her luncheon engagement with Althea, who had so far this term held herself rather aloof from her, hurried off to keep her appointment, leaving Jean a clear field.
Locking the door, this strange girl began laying out her wares. There were exquisite evening gowns, with satin slippers and silk stockings to match, and there were afternoon and morning frocks, walking suits, separate coats, hats, gloves, fans, scarfs, everything in fact to delight the heart of a girl. Jean handled them all mechanically, and without interest. It was only when she heard the murmur of girls’voices outside her door that a deep flush mounted even to her smooth forehead. She drew a deep breath and braced herself as for an ordeal, then answered the peremptory knock on the door.
There were little delighted cries from the ten girls who came to the sale as they examined Jean’s beautiful wardrobe. Being of medium height, her gowns fitted most of her customers, who exulted over the fact of their absolute freshness. They were indeed bargains, and, as each girl had come prepared to buy to the limit of her ample allowance, the money fairly poured into Jean’s hands.
For the rest of the afternoon a great trying-on of gowns ensued, and in their eager appreciation of the pretty things before them they chattered like a flock of magpies, arousing not a little curiosity among a number of the Harlowe House girls who in passing through the hall heard the murmur of voices and subdued laughter. It was after six o’clock when the last girl, bearing a huge bundle and a suit case, had departed. Jean sat down amidst the wreck of her possessions and sighed wearily. She sprang up the next moment, however, and began feverishly to bundle the various garments lying about on the bed and chairs into the open trunk. She had sold many of her possessions. Those that were left would all go into the one trunk. Shemust hurry them in before Evelyn returned. She was likely to come in at almost any moment. Jean had saved a beautiful frock of yellow crêpe for Evelyn. She intended to give it to her for a Christmas present. There were shoes, stockings and scarf to match, along with a wonderful white evening coat, trimmed with wide bands of white fur and lined with palest pink brocade. In the short time she had known Evelyn she had become greatly attached to her, and although unlike in disposition, they had, so far, managed to get along together as roommates.
Jean knew, however, that Evelyn, who was devoted heart and soul to Grace Harlowe, could not fail to disapprove of her high-handed disregard of Grace’s authority. She, therefore, determined to remove all traces of the sale and trust to luck and the honor of the girls who had taken part in it. If, later, Evelyn should recognize any of the various articles as Jean’s, it would do no particular harm. She would, no doubt, be shocked, but still past lapses of good conduct never disturbed one as did those of the present. Feeling that, in her case, at least, the end justified the means, Jean bundled the last tell-tale effect into the trunk and banged down the lid, resolving to meet Evelyn as though nothing had happened, and let the future take care of itself.
CHAPTER VIIIALL IN THE DAY’S WORK
With the approach of the Thanksgiving holidays a great pleasure and a great sorrow came to Grace. The “pleasure” was the joyful news that Mr. and Mrs. Harlowe had accepted an invitation to spend Thanksgiving in New York City with the Nesbits. This news meant that, for the first time since her entrance into college as a freshman, Grace would have the supreme satisfaction of being with her adored parents on Thanksgiving Day. Anne, Miriam and Elfreda would be with her, too, which made the anticipation of her four days’ vacation doubly dear.
Then almost identical with this great joy had come the great sorrow. Miss Wilder was going away. For the past year she had not been well, and now she had been ordered West for her health. During Grace’s first year at Harlowe House the regard which Miss Wilder had always felt for her as a student had gradually deepened until the two were on terms of intimacy. Grace felt the same freedom in going to the dean with her difficulties as she had with Miss Thompson, her loved principal of high-school days.
It seemed to her as though this staunch friend, with her kindly tolerance, and her amazing knowledge of girl nature, could never be replaced. No matter how worthy of respect and admiration her successor might be, she could never quite equal Miss Wilder. The possibility of Overton without her had never occurred to Grace. True she had noted on several occasions that Miss Wilder looked very pale and tired. She was considerably thinner, too, than when Grace had entered college as a freshman, yet she had always given out the impression of tireless energy. Grace had never heard her complain of ill health, yet here she was, threatened with a nervous breakdown. The only remedy, a complete rest. As soon as her successor had been appointed she would start for an extended western trip in search of health, which only time, the open air and rest could restore. At the older woman’s request Grace spent as much time as possible in her company. They had long talks over the subject that lay closest to the young house mother’s heart, the welfare of her flock, and Grace derived untold benefit from the dean’s counsel.
It now lacked only a little time until Overton College would lose one of its staunchest friends. Divided between the anticipation of meeting and the pain of parting, Grace hardly knew herown state of mind. It was with a very sober face that she hung the telephone on its receiver one gray November morning, and slipping into her wraps, set out for Overton Hall in obedience to Miss Wilder’s telephoned request. The new dean, Miss Wharton, had arrived, and Miss Wilder was anxious that Grace should meet her. Miss Wharton had expressed herself as interested in Miss Wilder’s account of Harlowe House and its unique system of management. She had also expressed her desire to meet Grace, and Miss Wilder, hopeful that this interest might prove helpful to Grace, had readily acceded to her wish.
Grace set forth for Overton Hall in good spirits, but whether it was the effect of the raw November morning or that the shadow of parting hung heavily over her, she suddenly felt her exhilaration vanish. A strange sense of gloomy foreboding bore down upon her. She found herself strangely reluctant to meet Miss Wharton. She had a strong desire to about-face and return to Harlowe House. “What is the matter with you, Grace Harlowe?” she said half aloud. With an impatient squaring of her shoulders she marched along determined to be cheerful and make the best of what she could not change.
As she entered Miss Wilder’s office her quickglance took in the short, rather stout figure seated beside Miss Wilder. This, then, was Miss Wharton. What Grace saw in that quick glance was a round, red, satisfied face lit by two cold pale blue eyes, and surmounted by lifeless brown hair, plentifully streaked with gray. There was neither grace nor majesty in her short, dumpy figure, and Grace’s first impression of her was decidedly unpleasant. An impression which she never had reason to change.
Miss Wilder rose to meet Grace with outstretched hand. “My dear, I am glad to see you this morning.”
“And I to see you,” responded Grace, her gray eyes full of affectionate regard. “How are you feeling to-day, Miss Wilder?”
“Very well, indeed, for me,” smiled the dean. “Almost well enough to give up my western rest, but not quite. My heart is in my work here. It is hard to leave it even for a little while. But I am leaving it in good hands. I wish you to meet Miss Wharton, Grace.”
She presented Grace to the other woman, who did not offer to take the hand Grace extended, but bowed rather distantly. The color stung Grace’s cheeks at the slight. Still she forced herself to try to say honestly, “I am glad to know you, Miss Wharton.”
“Thank you,” was the cold response, “Youare much younger than I was led to believe. It is rather difficult to imagine you as the head of a campus house. You give one the impression of being a student.”
Grace’s eyes were fixed on the new dean with grave regard. Was this salutary speech purely impersonal or did a spice of malicious meaning lurk within it? Not since those far-off days when Miss Leece, a disagreeable teacher of mathematics at Oakdale High School, had made her algebra path a thorny one had she encountered any instructor that reminded her in the least of the one teacher she had thoroughly despised. Yet, as she strove to fight back her growing dislike and reply impersonally, she was seized with the conviction that even as she and Miss Leece had been wholly opposed to each other, so surely would she and Miss Wharton find nothing in common. After what seemed an hour, but was in reality a minute, Grace forced herself to smile and say with quiet courtesy, “This is my second year as house mother at Harlowe House. I am frequently taken for a student. I really feel no older than my girls, and I hope I shall always feel so.”
“It isn’t years that count with Miss Harlowe,” smiled Miss Wilder, coming to Grace’s defense. “It is the ability to keep things moving successfully, and Miss Harlowe has shownthat ability in a marked degree,” she added.
“Has she, indeed?” returned Miss Wharton, with what Grace felt to be forced politeness. “I shall be interested in visiting Harlowe House and learning Miss Harlowe’s successful methods of management.” Then she turned to Miss Wilder and began a conversation from which it appeared as though she deliberately sought to exclude Grace.
“I must go, Miss Wilder,” said Grace, rising almost immediately. She decided that she could not and would not endure Miss Wharton’s rudeness.
Miss Wilder looked distressed. She could not understand Miss Wharton’s attitude, therefore there was nothing to do save ignore it.
“Very well, my dear. Run in and see me to-morrow. I shall be here from two o’clock until four in the afternoon.” She took one of Grace’s soft hands in both of hers. The brown eyes met the gray questioning ones with a look of love and trust. Grace’s resentment died out. She said a formal good-bye to Miss Wharton and hurried from the room. She would go to see Miss Wilder the next day as she had requested. Perhaps Miss Wharton’s rude reception of her was due merely to a brusque trait of character. Perhaps she belonged to the old school who believed that youth and responsibility could notgo hand in hand. At any rate she would try hard not to judge. Although she usually found her first impressions to be correct, still there were always exceptions. Miss Wharton might prove to be the exception.
On her way home she stopped at Wayne Hall. To her it was a house of tender memories, and she never entered its hospitable doors without half expecting to see the dear, familiar faces of the girls long gone from there to the busy paths of the outside world.
“Why, how do you do, Miss Harlowe?” was Mrs. Elwood’s delighted greeting. “It certainly is good to see you. I think you might run over oftener when you’re so near, but I s’pose you have your hands full with all those thirty-four girls. Did you come to see Miss West and Miss Eliot? If you did, they’re both at home, for a wonder. Miss West doesn’t have a recitation at this hour, and Miss Eliot’s sick.”
“Sick!” Grace sprang to her feet. “Oh, I must run up and see her at once. To tell you the truth, Mrs. Elwood, I came to see you. I hadn’t the least idea that either of the girls were in, but if you’ll forgive me this time I’ll run upstairs to see Patience and make you a special visit some other day.”
“Oh, I’ll forgive you, all right,” laughed Mrs. Elwood. “I’m glad to see your bright face, ifit’s only for five minutes, Miss Harlowe.”
“You’re a dear.” Grace dropped a soft kiss on Mrs. Elwood’s cheek, then hurried up the stairs, two at a time. Pausing at the old familiar door at the end of the hall, she knocked. There was a quick, light step. The door opened and Kathleen West fairly pounced upon her.
“Look who’s here! Look who’s here!” she chanted triumphantly. The tall, fair girl in the lavender silk kimono, who reclined in the Morris chair, turned her head languidly, then gave a cry of delight.
“You poor girl!” Grace embraced Patience affectionately. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Oh, just a cold,” croaked Patience. “In the words of J. Elfreda, ‘I’m a little horse.’” Her blue eyes twinkled. “It’s worth being sick to have you here, Grace.”
“I’ve been intending to come over every night this week, but I’m so busy,” sighed Grace. “The Service Bureau keeps me hustling.”
“What a progressive lot of people you Harlowites are,” praised Kathleen. “Did you know that Mary is doing a story about you and your family for our paper. Of course there are no names mentioned. I saw to that.” Kathleen flushed. She recalled a time when she had used Grace’s name without permission.
“Yes, I know about it,” smiled Grace, “andI know that no names are mentioned.”
Kathleen’s color heightened. Then she remarked: “By the way, that Miss Brent must have realized a nice sum of money from her sale. When did she have it, Grace? We didn’t hear a word of it. It must have been a very select affair. I’m sorry I didn’t know of it, for I wanted to buy an evening dress. Rita Harris bought a beauty. Tell us about this latest acquisition to Harlowe House. How does she happen to have such wonderful clothes, and why didn’t she go to work for the Service Bureau instead of selling them? I’m fairly buzzing with curiosity.”
Grace viewed Kathleen in amazement. “I don’t understand you, Kathleen,” she said, in a perplexed tone. “I have heard nothing of a sale.”
“But Miss Brent held it at Harlowe House a week ago last Saturday,” persisted Kathleen. “It is evident she didn’t wish you to know it or you would have been there, too.”
Grace’s amazed expression changed to one of vexed concern. She now understood. “One week ago last Saturday I was in New York City,” she said soberly. “Until this moment I knew nothing of any such sale. In fact I had objected to the plan when Miss Brent proposed it to me. If she had wished to dispose of certainof her personal belongings to any one girl I should have said unhesitatingly that it was her own affair, but a general sale is a different matter. The eyes of the college are, to a great extent, directed toward Harlowe House. It’s position among the other campus houses is unique. That the girls who live there are given a home free of charge makes them doubly liable to criticism. They must be worthy of their privileges.”
Kathleen nodded in emphatic agreement. “Of course they must. I understand fully your position in regard to them, Grace.”
“You mean the girl we met that day at Vinton’s, don’t you?” inquired Patience. “She had been robbed of her money in the train.”
“Yes; she is the very girl.”
“How do you reconcile her lack of means to pay her college expenses with this wonderful wardrobe that Kathleen has just told us of?”
“I don’t reconcile them. I can’t. That is just the trouble.” Grace looked worried. “Speaking in strict confidence, I have really taken Miss Brent on trust. I have asked her to explain certain things to me, and she has refused to do so. On the other hand she is warmly championed by the principal of one of the most select preparatory schools in the country. Then, too, she assures me that at some future day shewill explain everything. Emma calls her the Riddle. It’s an appropriate name, too.” Grace made a little despairing gesture.
“You are the greatest advocate of the motto, ‘Live and let live’ that I have ever run across, Grace,” smiled Patience, “but,” her face grew serious, “I believe you ought to insist on Miss Brent’s full explanation of her mysterious ways. If the news of this sale happens to reach faculty earsyouare likely to be criticized for allowing it.”
“But I didn’t allow it,” protested Grace. “I refused my consent to it.”
“Yet you are the last one to defend yourself at another’s expense,” reminded Kathleen. “You’d rather be misjudged than to see this girl, who hasn’t even trusted you, placed in an unpleasant position.”
Grace’s color deepened. “I promised to trust her,” she said at last. “At first I felt just as you do about this. Then I talked with her. She seemed honest and sincere. I decided that perhaps it would be better not to force her confidence. Young girls are often likely to make mountains of mole-hills. Still, Emma thinks just as you do,” she added. “She didn’t at first, but she does now. I’m suresheknows nothing of the sale. She would have told me.”
“I just happened to remember,” began Kathleen,her straight brows drawn together in a scowl, “that Evelyn Ward rooms with Miss Brent. Evelyn must have known of the sale. Do you mind, if I ask her about it?”
“Ask her if you like.” Grace spoke wearily. Everything was surely going wrong to-day. She had intended to tell Patience and Kathleen about her trip to New York. She had visited Anne and the Southards and spent two delightful days. After what she had heard she felt that there was nothing to say. “I must go,” she announced abruptly. “I’ll come again to-morrow to see you, Patience. A speedy recovery to you. Come and see me, both of you, whenever you can. By the way, I met Miss Wharton, the new dean, this morning.”
“What is she like?” asked Kathleen.
“I can hardly tell you. She is different from Miss Wilder. I saw her only for a moment. She seems distant. Still one can’t judge by first appearances. I must go. Good-bye, girls.”
Grace left her friends rather hurriedly. She was ready to cry. The revelations of the morning had been almost too much for her. It was hard indeed to be snubbed, but it was harder still to be deceived. “It’s all in the day’s work,” she whispered, over and over again, as she crossed the campus. “I must be brave and accept what comes. It’s all in the day’s work.”
CHAPTER IXWHAT EVELYN HEARD ON THE CAMPUS
“Ha! Whom have we here?” declaimed Emma Dean, pointing dramatically, as Grace opened the door and stepped into their room. One look at Grace’s sensitive face was sufficient. Emma had lived close to her friend too long not to know the signs of dejection in the features that usually shone with hope and cheerfulness. “Advance and show your countersign,” she commanded.
“I haven’t any,” returned Grace soberly.
“Spoken like a brigadier general who doesn’t need one,” retorted Emma. “You are just in time to hear my terrible tale.
“Oh, a terrible tale I have to tellOf the terrible fate that once befellA teacher of English who once residedIn the same recitation room that I did,”
“Oh, a terrible tale I have to tellOf the terrible fate that once befellA teacher of English who once residedIn the same recitation room that I did,”
she rendered tunefully.
The shadow disappeared like magic from Grace’s face. “Now what have you done, you funny girl?” she asked, her sad face breaking into smiles. Emma was irresistible.
“It is not what I havedone, but what Imighthave done. What was it Whittier said in ‘Maud Muller’?”
“There’s really no one under the sunCan blame you for what you might have done,”
“There’s really no one under the sunCan blame you for what you might have done,”
paraphrased Emma briskly.
Grace giggled outright. “Poor Whittier,” she sympathized.
“Don’t pity him,” objected Emma. “Pity me for what nearly happened to me. The illustrious name of Dean came within a little of traveling about Overton attached to a funny story, which I will now relate for your sole edification. You remember that pile of themes I brought home on Tuesday?”
Grace nodded.
“Well, I finished them last night and wrapped them up ready to take back to the classroom to-day. They made a good-sized bundle, because I had collected them from all my classes. This morning I was in a hurry, so I picked up my bundle and ran. I always like to be in my classroom in good season. But fate was against me, for I met Miss Dutton, that new assistant in Greek, and she stopped me to ask me numerous questions, as she is fain to do unless one seesher first, and from afar off enough to suddenly change one’s course and miss her. Consequently I marched into my room to find my class assembled. I assumed a dignity which I didn’t feel, for I hate being late, and laid my bundle of themes on my desk. Every eye was fixed reprovingly upon me. I had said so much against straggling into class late, yet here I had committed that very crime. I untied my bundle and was just going to open it when that black-eyed Miss Atherton asked me a question. I answered the question, my eyes on her, my fingers folding back the paper. I reached for my themes and my hand closed over cloth instead of paper. A positive chill went up and down my spine. I gave one horrified glance at the supposed theme and poked it out of sight in a hurry. Another second and I would have offered some one my white linen skirt in full view of my class. Instead of themes I had brought my clean laundry to English IV.”
“Oh, Emma!” gasped Grace mirthfully.
“You’re not a bit sympathetic,” declared Emma with pretended severity.
How Elfreda would love that tale. She would revel in the vision of Emma Dean solemnly proffering her linen skirt to an unsuspecting class. “I declare, Emma, you have driven away the blues.”
“Have I?” inquired Emma with guileful innocence. It was precisely what she had intended to do. “What is troubling you, Gracious?”
“I can’t endure the thought of losing Miss Wilder. I went to see her this morning and met Miss Wharton. I——”
“Don’t like her,” finished Emma calmly.
“No, I don’t,” returned Grace, with sudden vigor, “but how did you know it?”
“Because I don’t like her, either. I was introduced to her yesterday afternoon in Miss Wilder’s office. I didn’t tell you, because I wished you to form your own impression of her, first hand.”
“She was positively rude to me, Emma. She made me feel like a little girl. She said I looked more like a student than a person in charge of a campus house.”
“I agree with her,” was Emma’s bland reply. “You might easily be taken for a freshman.”
“But she didn’t mean it in the nice way that you do,” said Grace. “I hope she never comes to inspect Harlowe House. She will be sure to find fault.”
“She’ll have to make a sharp search,” predicted Emma. “We won’t worry about it until she comes, will we? Now, what else is on your mind?”
“The Riddle,” admitted Grace. She related what she had heard from Kathleen regarding the sale.
“H-m-m!” was Emma’s dry response. “They took good care that I shouldn’t hear of it.”
“I’m so sorry Evelyn lent herself to something she knew would displease me,” mourned Grace.
“Perhaps she didn’t. I know for a certainty that she wasn’t in the house Saturday afternoon, for I met her on the campus and she told me that she was going to take luncheon and spend the afternoon with Althea Parker.”
“She must haveknownabout it.”
“I am afraid the news of this sale will travel rapidly,” prophesied Emma. “Not only will Miss Brent be talked over, but you also will be criticized. You know I advised you, not long ago, to insist that Miss Brent make a full explanation of things. Take my advice and see her at once.”
“I will,” decided Grace. “I’ll have a talk with her after dinner to-night.”
Grace was not the only one, however, to whom the news of the sale came as a shock. Strangely enough Evelyn learned of it during the afternoon of the same day in which it had come to Grace’s ears. Her attention had been attracted to a smart black and white check coat whichEdna Correll, a very plain freshman who tried to make up in extreme dressing what she lacked in beauty, was wearing. In crossing the campus on her way to Harlowe House she had encountered Edna in company with another freshman. For an instant she had wondered why the sight of the black and white coat which Edna wore seemed so strangely familiar. Then it had dawned upon her that it was identical with a coat belonging to Jean.
“How do you like my new coat?” had been Edna’s salutation, and Evelyn had replied. “It’s wonderfully smart. Miss Brent has one very much like it.”
“She had one, you mean,” Edna had corrected. “Why, weren’t you at the sale last Saturday! I suppose you selected what you wanted beforehand. That is where you had the advantage.”
“What sale?” Evelyn had asked, completely mystified. Then explanations had followed. White with suppressed anger, Evelyn had bade Edna a hasty good-bye and sped across the campus toward Harlowe House. Without a word she brushed by the maid who answered the bell, and rushed upstairs as fast as she could run. The temper which she had tried so hard to control was now at a high pitch. How dared Jean deliberately place her in such anunpleasant position when she was trying so hard to be worthy of Miss Harlowe’s confidence? She flung open the door of her room. Then her eyes sought and found Jean standing before the wardrobe, her back to the door, a pair of black satin slippers in her hand.
“How could you do it?” burst forth Evelyn. “You know Miss Harlowe forbade it. Now she will think that I knew all about it. Just when I am trying to merit her confidence.”
Jean Brent whirled about. Her blue eyes flashed. One of the slippers she held in her hand swished through the air and landed with a thud against the opposite wall. The wave of anger with which she faced Evelyn was like the sudden sweep of a gale of wind out of a clear sky. The other slipper followed the first one. Then the doors of the wardrobe were slammed shut with a force that caused it to shake. To Evelyn it was as though a strong current of air had blown upon her. Here, indeed was a temper that outranked her own.
“What right have you to speak to me in such a tone?” raged Jean. “You have nothing to say as to what I shall or shall not do. I won’t pretend I don’t know what you mean. I do know. I don’t in the least care what you think about it, either. My clothes are mine to do with just whatever I please. If Miss Harloweimagines I am going to be a servant to half the girls at Overton for the sake of earning my fees she is mistaken. Why should she or any one else object to my selling my things, if I like? I don’t see how you found it out. The girls promised to keep the whole affair to themselves. I don’t understand why you should be so concerned, or what it has to do with Miss Harlowe’s opinion of you. From what you say I might almost assume that there had been a time whenyouwere not to be trusted.”
Evelyn’s beautiful face was crimson with anger and humiliation. She longed to answer Jean’s arraignment with a flood of words as bitter as her own, but her determined effort of months to rule her spirit now bore fruit.
“I’m sorry I spoke so abruptly,” she said coldly. “I just heard about the sale from Miss Correll. You were quite right in what you said. There was a time when I could not be trusted. My trouble was about clothes, too. Miss Harlowe helped me find my self-respect again, and this year I am trying very hard to be an Overton girl in the truest sense of the word. I am telling you this in confidence because I wish you to understand why Miss Harlowe’s good opinion is so dear to me.”
“You can go and tell her that you knew nothing about the sale,” muttered Jean sullenly.Something in Evelyn’s frank confession had made her feel a trifle ashamed of herself.
Evelyn’s violet eyes grew scornful. “How can you suggest such a thing?” she asked.
It was Jean’s turn to blush. “Forgive me,” she said penitently. “I know you aren’t a tell-tale. If she asks me about the sale, be sure I’ll exonerate you.”
Evelyn shook her head. “I wish you’d go to her, Jean, and tell her what you have done. Sooner or later she is sure to find it out.”
But Jean Brent was in no mood for this advice. It caused her anger to blaze afresh. “There you go again,” she blustered, “with your goody-goody advice to me about running to Miss Harlowe with every little thing I do. I hope I’m not such a baby. If Miss Harlowe sends for me, don’t think for a minute that I’ll be afraid to face her, but until shedoessend for me I am not going to concern myself about it, and I would advise you not to trouble yourself, either.”
With this succinct advice Jean made a fresh onslaught on the unoffending wardrobe. Opening it she seized her hat and coat. With a last reverberating slam of its long-suffering doors she turned her back on it and Evelyn, and switched defiantly out of the room and on out of the house.
CHAPTER XLAYING THE CORNERSTONE OF A HOUSE OF TROUBLE
Jean did not return to Harlowe House for dinner that night. Instead she turned her steps toward Holland House, where Althea Parker lived, assured that in Althea she would find sympathy. In spite of the fact that Jean lived at Harlowe House, a plain acknowledgment of her lack of means, Althea shrewdly suspected that the mysterious freshman had come from a home of wealth, and was posing as a poor girl for some reason best known to herself. Jean’s remarkable wardrobe had impressed her deeply, while Jean herself carried out the impression of having been brought up in luxury. She was self-willed, extravagant, careless of the future, and her flippant opinion, delivered to Althea, of the Service Bureau and work in general, was all that was needed to convince the shrewd junior of Jean’s true position in life. Then, too, Jean was extremely likable, although Althea stood a little in awe of her remarkable poise and a certain imperiousness that occasionally crept into the girl’s manner.
Jean rang the bell at Holland House withmingled feelings of resentment and defiance. Resentment against Evelyn for daring to take her to task; defiance of Grace and her commands.
“Is Miss Parker in?” she inquired of the maid who opened the door.
“She just came in, miss.”
“Very well. I’ll go on upstairs. She won’t mind me.”
Jean knocked on Althea’s door. Althea called an indifferent “Come in,” and she entered to find her engaged in reading a letter that had come by the afternoon mail.
“Oh, hello, Jean,” she drawled at sight of the other girl. “You must have come in right behind me. What are you glowering about?”
“Evelyn is angry with me because I had the sale,” began Jean. “That’s what I came to tell you. I’m sorry I told her that Miss Harlowe had forbidden me to have it. Now she thinks I ought to go to Miss Harlowe and tell her that I disobeyed her before she hears of it from some other source.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Althea. “Don’t be so silly. Ten chances to one she’ll never hear of it. If ever she does, it will probably be as ancient history. I’ll caution the girls again to keep still. Who told Evelyn?”
“That Miss Correll. Evelyn saw her wearingmy black and white check coat and recognized it,” returned Jean gloomily. “She came rushing into my room like a young tornado with the plea that Miss Harlowe would blame her for my misdeeds.” Jean was tempted to add that which Evelyn had told her in confidence. Then her better nature stirred, and she was silent.
“Evelyn isn’t nearly as good company this year as she was last,” complained Althea. “Ever since the latter part of her freshman year, she’s been so different. I’ve always had an idea,” Althea lowered her voice, “that last spring she broke some rule of the college and ran away. One night, just before college closed—it was long after ten o’clock, too—Miss Harlowe telephoned me and asked if Evelyn were with me. I found out afterward that she had gone to New York all by herself. She’d never been there but once before when she spent a week-end with me, and she didn’t know a soul. I never could find out anything else, though. Evelyn went to her classes on Monday, and not one word did she ever say about it. I didn’t find out about the New York part of it until this fall, though. A Willston man whom we both know saw her in New York with that clever Miss West, who wrote ‘Loyalheart.’”
Jean listened with attentive gravity. Sheguessed that Althea had perhaps hit upon the truth. Evelyn had confessed to her that there had been that in her freshman year of which she was ashamed. She had said it was about clothes, yet what had clothes to do with breaking the rules of Overton and running away to New York? Whatever it was, it should remain Evelyn’s secret. She would tell Althea nothing.
“Let’s go to Vinton’s for dinner,” she proposed, with an abrupt change of subject. “I’ve plenty of money now—while it lasts.”
“All right,” agreed Althea, “only I mustn’t stay out late. I’ve a frightful lesson in physics to study for to-morrow.”
Jean did not particularly enjoy her dinner. In spite of her defiant manner she had begun to feel slightly conscience-stricken. She almost wished she had not gone on with the sale. Still she could have obtained the necessary money in no other way. Now that the mischief was done she could hope only that Miss Harlowe would hear nothing of it—not for a long time, at any rate.
As she crossed the campus and ran lightly up the steps of Harlowe House she resolved to shake off her recent fear of the discovery, on Grace’s part, of her disobedience and act as though nothing had happened.
Her resolution was destined to receive anunexpected jolt. “Miss Harlowe wants to see you, Miss Brent,” were the words with which the maid greeted her as she stepped into the hall.
Jean’s heart sank. So it had come already. She stopped for a moment in the hall to gather her forces. Her feeling of penitence vanished. She threw up her head with a defiant jerk and walked boldly into the little office where Grace sat making up her expense account for November.
“You wished to see me, Miss Harlowe?” Her tone was coldly interrogative, her eyes hostile, as she stared steadily at Grace.
Grace looked up from her work and calmly studied the pretty, belligerent girl standing before her. In that glance she realized what a difficult task lay before her.
“Yes, Miss Brent, I wished to talk with you,” she answered. “Sit down, please.”
Jean slid reluctantly into the chair opposite Grace, surveying her with an expression which said plainly, “Well, why don’t you begin?”
“Did you have a sale of your clothes in your room one week ago last Saturday?”
The directness of Grace’s question astonished Jean. She found herself answering, “Yes,” with equal promptness.
“Why did you disobey me?” asked Grace.
“Because I needed the money,” declared Jean boldly, “and I couldn’t earn it, Miss Harlowe; I just couldn’t.”
Grace gazed reflectively at the flushed face opposite her own. “Miss Brent,” she began, “when first you came to Harlowe House I believed that it was not necessary for me to know certain things which you did not wish to divulge. I might still be of that opinion if you had not disobeyed me. It is most peculiar for a girl to come to Overton utterly without funds, yet possessing quantities of the most expensive clothes. I have always felt assured of your right to be an Overton and a Harlowe House girl, yet others might not regard you so leniently. That is why I refused to allow you to have the sale. I feared you would bring down undue criticism upon you, and upon me as well. Once you became a subject for criticism you might be obliged to explain to the dean or the president of the Overton College what you have refused to explain to me. It was to protect you that I refused your request. Since you have seen fit to disregard my authority I can do but one thing. I must insist that you will tell me fully what you have, so far, kept a secret. In order to protect you I must know everything. I can no longer go on in the dark.”
Jean stood staring at Grace. A look of stubbornresolve crept into her face. Grace, watching her intently, knew what the answer would be. The strange girl opened her lips to speak. Then, obeying her natural impulse to give the other person the greatest possible chance, Grace raised a protesting hand.
“Don’t say you won’t do as I ask, Miss Brent. Take a little time to think over the matter. I am going to give you until after Thanksgiving to decide whether or not you will trust me. Remember my sole desire is to help you.”
For the first time Grace’s sweet earnestness seemed to awaken a responsive chord in the heart of the obstinate freshman. The ready color dyed her cheeks crimson. The hard, defiant light left her eyes.
“If only she would tell me now and have it over with,” thought Grace, noting the signs of softening on Jean’s part. The girl appeared to be considering Grace’s proposal in the spirit in which it had been made. Then, all in an instant, she changed. It was as though she had suddenly recalled something disagreeable.
“There is really no use in waiting until after Thanksgiving for my answer. I can’t tell you. I suppose you will send me away because I won’t tell you, but if I did tell you, you would send me away just the same. So you see it doesn’t really make much difference. It wassilly in me to come here. I might have known better,” she ended with a mirthless smile.
Grace regarded Jean with growing annoyance. She had been offered a chance to explain herself and she had refused it. True, Grace could also refuse to allow her to remain a member of Harlowe House, but this she did not wish to do. Her pride whispered to her that among the girls who were enrolled as members of the household, made possible by Mrs. Gray’s generosity, there had been no failures. Jean Brent should not be the first. She would bear with her a little longer.
“I repeat, Miss Brent,” she said, “that I do not wish you to answer me until after Thanksgiving. Then, if you decide, as I hope you will, to be frank with me, I promise you that I will do my utmost to protect you.”
Jean’s only response was, “Good night, Miss Harlowe.” Then she turned and left the office.
Grace sat poking holes in an unoffending sheet of paper with her lead pencil. She wondered what Jean Brent’s secret could possibly be, and how she could best reach this stubborn, self-centered freshman. And in her wholehearted effort to be of service to the girl, who apparently needed her help, she did not dream that she was laying the cornerstone of a house of trouble for herself.