Comingas she did from a trip which had filled her mind with impressions of breadth and beauty, Shirley Harcourt was delighted to observe that her school environment was not to be one that was close or confined. As she was borne around the drive to Westlake Hall, she caught a glimpse of the lake’s shining waters and wound through the woods of its attractive acres.
But Shirley was tired and she wished that the summer’s travel had not taken off the freshness of the pretty coat, in which Dick thought that she looked “like a million dollars,” or faded a little the becoming hat. And she had been careful, too, wearing something else on the outdoor trips on the mountains. Her bathing cap sufficed on the California beaches.
It had not been possible for the trip to be planned for Shirley’s convenience. As they came home by a southerly route, one which Shirley thoroughly approved, nevertheless, she had found it necessary tostrike north to Chicago again. This route was comparatively so near to home that she was tempted to go there, if only for a few hours.
But there was the extra expense to be considered first. Then it would be quite forlorn, after all, to go into that house and find the strangers to whom it had been rented for the year. Miss Dudley would not return until the first of October. With determination, then, Shirley put aside all home-clinging thoughts and wondered why she were not more keen about the school experience before her. She had thought it such a wonderful plan, something that she had always wanted to do,—that jolly life in a dormitory with other girls!
But Shirley’s depression was chiefly physical and a natural result of the continued delights and strain of the long summer trip. Now she was feeling refreshed by the cool, fresh lake air, and the sight of the school environment cheered her. No one was arriving with her, for Shirley was late. This was another drawback, for Shirley’s habit was to be ahead of her work, and the thought of a number of lessons in which to catch up was not a happy one. She counted up the days which had passed since the opening one,—only three. There would be no lessons recited on that day, perhaps not on the nextone. She woulddoit, anyhow, and Shirley set her lips firmly together at the thought of it.
With rising interest, Shirley looked at the massive building with its porches and vines, as she turned from paying the man of the taxi and went up the steps. Her bag was light, but she took her time to ascend, looking around at the walks and buildings seen through the trees, and noting that there were no girls around. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was the dinner hour.
Shirley rang the bell and was admitted promptly. The sensation had arrived. The maid gave her one look, first surprised, then questioning. “Why Miss (Shirley did not catch the name),—are you masquerading already?” she said.
Shirley looked surprised in her turn. “Will you show me to my room, please, or to some one who will direct me? Or perhaps I should see the dean first.” That, Shirley knew, would probably be impossible, if she were at dinner. “I am Shirley Harcourt, and my arrangements were all made for me.” “Yes, certainly,” said the maid. “The dean is at dinner, but there is always some one in charge at the office during these first days. I will take you there.”
More than one curious glance the maid cast at Shirley as she showed her to the office. It was as ifshe could not believe her eyes, and Shirley, who had almost forgotten her Chicago experiences by this time, wondered if this were not some one from Chicago, who must know her “double.”
“It will be possible, I think, for you to have dinner,” said the maid. “I will be ready to see you when you are through in here. Miss Schiff, this is Miss Shirley Harcourt, who wants to see you about the room reserved for her.”
The maid was enjoying this introduction, it was very evident. She was quite a superior sort of maid, Shirley could see. Probably she was some girl who was paying her way with this part service. Shirley was accustomed to that in her college town. She dimly saw the neat office with its desks and safe, its tables and chairs. Miss Schiff was looking at her with bright amusement. “What in the world?” she asked. “Are you joking me, Emma? But no,—” Miss Schiff was looking at the traveling garb, the bag and the tired girlish face.
“I am Shirley Harcourt,” firmly said Shirley. “If you will find the list of girls and their rooms, you will see my name. I have been on a western trip and I could not get here before.”
“I see,” kindly said Miss Schiff. “Excuse me. I took you for some one else at first. I will look upthe matter at once. Just sit down. You can go out to dinner with me presently.”
“Thank you, but my head aches a little and I should like bed better than anything else. I had a late lunch in Chicago, and then I had some fruit and a sandwich on the local train that brought me here. Probably they gave me the headache.”
“Perhaps a hot drink would help you,” Miss Schiff suggested, “but that is as you like.”
In a few moments Shirley knew the number of her room, and the maid whom Miss Schiff called Emma took her to a room on the second floor. It was already occupied, Shirley saw, but there stood her pretty cedar chest, already uncrated and ready to be unlocked for the sheets and pillow slips which must go on that comfortable looking single bed. The big portmanteau which had accompanied her on the western trip also stood on one side of the large closet.
Pretty frocks hung in the closet, all on one side. Shirley wondered who her room-mate was to be, but her head throbbed too unpleasantly now for her to do anythingbutmake up her bed, take a hurried bath and crawl thankfully under the covers. Her room-mate, of course, would be surprised to find her there, but she couldn’t help that.
It happened that her room-mate did not come inor think of doing so until after the time for study hours to commence; for with the other girls she had gone out on the campus for a while, and meantime she heard that Shirley Harcourt had arrived. “You will find a little surprise in your room,” said Miss Schiff to Madge Whitney, whom she met as she went to dinner, through the flocks of girls that came from the dining hall.
“My room-mate’s come, has she, Miss Schiff? Why doesn’t she come to dinner?”
“She had a severe headache and wanted to get to bed. You might study in the library, Madge, or with Caroline again. I will give you permission.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Schiff! My books are all in Cad’s room anyhow. Did she look like a nice girl?”
Miss Schiff laughed. “Yes, she lookedlikeaverynice girl, so much like one, in fact, that you may find her more of a surprise than you think.” With an amused look, Miss Schiff hurried on.
“Now what did she mean bythat?” asked Madge of her friend Caroline Scott. “Do you suppose that she is some precise prunes, prisms and persimmons creature that I won’t like at all? I’ve a great mind to run up and see!”
“And make a great hit right at the start!” Caroline suggested.
“That is so. If she has a headache, she may bein a warlike frame of mind. I’ll not risk it. Poor thing! It’s bad enough to be late getting to school, let alone having a headache ‘right at the start.’ Will you lend me a pencil, Cad? Then I’ll not have to go to the room at all till bedtime. Dear me,—if we only could have roomed together this year!”
“Yes; but I am not going to let rooming with Stella Marbury spoil my senior year. We get along all right, and she spends half her time away from the room practicing anyhow. It would never have done not to room with the girl from my home town.”
“I know it, and Stella wants the ‘prestige’ of rooming with you, Cad. Stella is one little worker for prominence!”
Due to Madge’s meeting with Miss Schiff, Shirley’s slumbers were not disturbed by any inrushing room-mate. She expected it, dozing uneasily for a while, but as the medicine which she had taken for her headache began to take effect and she felt more comfortable, she fell into a deep slumber.
When Madge Whitney entered, she did so quietly, though she was obliged to put on her electric light. She tiptoed around, finding everything that she needed, and looking curiously toward the bed in which Shirley lay without stirring. Madge saw the shining gold of the hair that spread over the pillow, but only a cheek and a very pretty arm and handthat had been tossed free of the covers could be distinguished.
A lake breeze was coming in quite coolly now from the two open windows. Madge shut the one nearest the beds partly down, and though she did not dare to touch her room-mate, she drew up the bathrobe that lay across the foot of the bed and put a corner of it over the arm and shoulder, as she had sometimes found that her mother had done for her. Then she put out the light and undressed by only the dim light which came in from the hall through the door set ajar for the purpose. Shirley was a fortunate girl to have so thoughtful a room-mate waiting, though, it must be acknowledged that Madge might not have thought of this had it not been for considerable interest and curiosity. Some way, that hand looked familiar. But hands were much alike!
In the morning Shirley woke wondering where she was after a dream of mountain climbing. But the headache was gone. A renewed Shirley sat up in bed and looked around. Why, this was fine. Here she was at last. Why should she worry about lessons? They would be good to her and let her make them up as she could. She naturally looked first at the stirring form in the other bed. The rising gong was ringing loudly.
A flying mop of curly black hair was all that Shirley could see; but hands were raised to rub a pair of sleepy eyes, as the girl turned over on her back, trying to wink those same blue eyes open.
“Good morning,” clearly and pleasantly said Shirley. “Is this the Miss Madge Whitney with whom Miss Schiff said I was to room?”
“It certainly is,” replied Madge, “and I suppose that you are Shirley Harcourt.”
“Yes,” said Shirley.
The blue eyes came open, after a last blink, and suddenly Madge set up. “Why, the idea! Was it you, Sidney Thorne, all the time, here in my room in bed last night? And to think that I covered up your shoulder and tiptoed around and put the light out and everything! What became of the other girl? And why on earth,—?” But Madge stopped and stared again.
“It was good of you not to waken me,” Shirley’s musical voice continued, “but I really am not anybody by the name of Sidney. I do suppose that of all things I had to strike the same school as my ‘double!’” Shirley looked rather disgusted.
“If you are not Sidney Thorne, then you certainlyhavea double. Why, it is thestrangest thing! Please excuse me for having stared so. I am so surprised!”
“I do not blame you. There must be a strong resemblance, for I remember in Chicago several people took me for some one, I did not know who. It is rather enlightening, as my dad says, to know who she is,—unless I havetwodoubles! Wouldn’t that be terrible! I didn’t know that my ‘style of beauty’ was so common.”
“It isn’t. Sidney lives in Chicago all right, and is very well known there, or her father and mother are, which is the same thing. So you found out that you had a ‘double’ when you came to Chicago?”
“The first time. I stayed there a little while with my cousins. Then we went on with our big western trip that has made me late coming back to school. We got delayed toward the last. But we ought to get up, I suppose.”
“I should think weshould!” cried Madge, looking at her watch, and hopping out of bed. “There will besome sensationthis morning at breakfast! Shirley, Shirley, Shirley Harcourt,” Madge repeated reflectively. “Let me get used to it. I hope that you will not mind if I should call you Sidney by mistake. I do see something different about you, Shirley, but I can’t tell what it is for the life of me.”
“Thank fortune for that!” laughed Shirley, busy pulling on her shoes and stockings. “I’m afraid that it is going to be embarrassing all around.”
Madge said nothing in reply to that, for she was wondering what Sidney would think of it. That she would not like it at all was a foregone conclusion. How queer it was; but Madge had heard of such things.
Hurriedly the girls dressed. Shirley was quite glad that they wore a uniform at the school, though it occurred to her, as she slipped the one piece blue dress over her head, that the uniform would complicate the matter of identity. She had never thought of this possibility. There were too many wonderful things taking her attention every day, too many adventures planned in advance for much reflection. Letters to Europe and to Aunt Anne had taken her spare time. That she should meet her double at school!
Madge slipped a friendly hand in Shirley’s arm as they went downstairs and through confusing corridors to the big dining room. It was not as much of an ordeal to Shirley as it might have been to some girls, for she was accustomed to be invited with her parents to dinner at the dormitory where the co-eds at home held forth. This was very similar, Shirley thought. But she had determined not to say one word about her family or the professor of whom she was so proud. This year should beunique,—and, indeed, its opening adventures promised that it would be.
No one paid any attention to her until after grace had been said by the dean and the girls were all seated. “Staying with Madge, Sidney?” asked one, unfolding her napkin and taking up her spoon for her fruit.
“This, girls,” said Madge, without the suspicion of a smile, “is my new room-mate, Shirley Harcourt. She got in last night. Shirley, this is Betty Terhune.” Madge continued the introductions around the table, at which there was no teacher, one of the senior girls occupying the place at the head. Some of the girls gave Shirley a second look, as she acknowledged the introductions, but most of them thought that it was a joke.
“Oh, what’s the point of this?” asked Betty. “I suppose you stayed all night with Madge, Sidney. Your new room-mate is going to be pretty late in her classes, Madge.”
Shirley now sat quietly, eating her orange and smiling aside at Madge. “Listen, girls,” said that young lady. “I don’t blame you for thinking it a joke. I could scarcely believe Shirley this morning when I finally got awake and found her there. But if you don’t believe me, look over there at Sidney Thorne!”
The astonished girls looked toward the table at which they were accustomed to see Sidney Thorne. Sure enough, there she was, calmly eating her fruit, with no idea of the surprise in store for her. Shirley was as much interested as the rest and gave a comprehensive look at this heretofore elusive double of hers.
“My!” Betty exclaimed. “Even the profile is the same! Why, how could it happen? Are you sure that you are not related?”
“It must be very distantly, if we are. I never heard of any relatives by that name.” Shirley felt decidedly strange. It was like a dream to be here in this different but attractive school, so far from her mother and father, where a girl who looked almost exactly like her, so far as she could see, was already a pupil in the school.
“Tell me about Sidney Thorne,” she said to Betty. “You can’t imagine what a queer surprise it is to find a girl so like me here!”
“I can imagine how I would feel,” sympathetically said Betty. “But if you have to have a double, it is a good thing that she is a nice girl. Sidney lives in Chicago, as Madge may already have told you. She hasn’t any brothers or sisters that I ever heard of, but occasionally her mother and father drive here to see her. They have all kinds of moneyand they are very fine, cultured people,—so everybody says. Her mother is just the prettiest thing!
“Sidney is one of the smartest girls in school. She belongs to a little crowd that they call the ‘Double Three,’ since a Hallowe’en stunt last year, but they are only her most intimate friends. She’s in almost every club there is here.”
Immediately the thought crossed Shirley’s mind that if such were the case she might as well pay no attention to clubs or societies, those, at least, whose membership was elective. For some reason she felt that no “double” would want to elect her—but then she had a second thought: Ifshewere the one whose double came into a school, she would think it a test of her generosity to admit her to its advantages.
There was little time for thinking about this comparatively small matter, for class time was not far away. Every girl had some important thing to do next. The conversation between Madge, Shirley and Betty whisked to the day’s program and Shirley had much to find out. Her courses had been arranged long since. Books, the location of the class rooms and matters of registration were now Shirley’s concern.
As they hurried from the dining-room after breakfast, Madge asked Shirley if she would like tomeet Sidney. “Oh, no, Madge,” Shirley replied. “I haven’t time for one thing extra, and then I think that it would be better for her to hear about me first, if possible, rather than to have the shock of seeing me. I caught a glimpse of her on my trip, but she has never heard of me.”
“It’s good of you to think of that,” returned Madge. “I think that I like you pretty well, Shirley Harcourt.”