Betty Wales, Freshman Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  MID-YEARS AND A DUST-PAN

  Viewed in retrospect the tragic experiences of one's freshman year seemoften the most insignificant of trifles; but that does not prevent theirbeing at the time momentous as the fate of empires. There are mid-yearexaminations, for instance; after one has survived them a few times sheknows that being "flunked out" is not so common an experience as reportrepresents it to be, and as for "low grades" and "conditions," if onehas "cut" or been too often unprepared she deserves and expects them,and if she has done her best and still finds an unwelcome note or two onthe official bulletin board, why, she must remember that accidents willhappen, and are generally quite endurable when viewed philosophically.But in freshman year one is inexperienced and easily the dupe ofmischievous sophomores. Then how is one to prepare for the dreadfulordeal? The distinction is not at all clear between the intelligentreview that the faculty recommend and the cramming that they abhor.There is a disconcerting little rhyme on this subject that has beenhanded down from generation to generation for so long that it has lostmost of its form and comeliness; but the point is still sharp. It isabout a girl who followed the faculty's advice on the subject ofcramming, took her exercise as usual, and went to bed each night at teno'clock, as all good children should. The last stanza still rhymes,thus:

  "And so she did not hurry, Nor sit up late to cram, Nor have the blues and worry, But--she failed in her exam."

  Mary Brooks took pains that all her "young friends," as she called them,should hear of this instructive little poem.

  "I really thought," said Betty on the first evening of the examinationweek, "when that hateful rumor was contradicted, that I should never bescared again, but I am."

  "There's unfortunately nothing rumorous about these exams.," mutteredKatherine wrathfully. "The one I had to-day was the real article, allright."

  "And I have my three worst to-morrow and next day," mourned Betty, "soI've got permission to sit up after ten to-night. Don't all the rest ofyou want to come in here and work? Then some one else can ask Mrs.Chapin for the other nights."

  "But we must all attend strictly to business," said Mary Rich, whereatHelen Adams looked relieved.

  And business was the order of the week. An unwonted stillness reignedover the Chapin house, broken occasionally by wild outbursts ofhilarity, which meant that some examination or other was over and hadnot been so bad after all. Every evening at ten the girls who felt itnecessary to sit up later assembled in one room, comfortably attired inkimonos--all except Roberta, who had never been seen without hercollar--and armed with formidable piles of books; and presently workbegan in earnest. There was really no reason, as Rachel observed, whythey should not stay in their own rooms, if they were going to sit up atall. This wasn't the campus, where there was a night-watchman to reportlights, and Mrs. Chapin was very accommodating about giving permission.

  "This method benefits her gas bill though," said Katherine, "andtherefore keeps her accommodating. Besides, it's much easier to stick toit in a crowd."

  Eleanor never went through the formality of asking Mrs. Chapin'spermission to do anything, and she did not care for the moral support ofnumbers. She was never sleepy, she said, pointing significantly to herbrass samovar, and she could work best alone in her own room. She heldaloof, too, from the discussions about the examinations which were theburden of the week's table-talk, only once in a while volunteering asuggestion about the possible answer to an obscure or ambiguousquestion. Her ideas invariably astonished the other freshmen by theirdepth and originality, but when any one exclaimed, Eleanor would say,sharply, "Why, it's all in the text-book!" and then relapse into gloomysilence.

  "I suppose she talks more to her friends outside," suggested Rachel,after an encounter of this sort.

  "Not on your life," retorted Katherine. "She's one of the kind thatkeeps herself to herself. She hates us because we have to know as muchabout her as we do, living here in the house with her. I hope she getsthrough all right."

  "She's awfully clever," said Mary Rich admiringly. "She'd never havesaid that a leviathan was some kind of a church creed, as I did inEnglish."

  "Yes, she's a clever--blunderer, but she's also a sadly mistaken youngperson," amended Katherine.

  It was convenient to have one's examinations scattered evenly throughthe week with time for study between them, but pleasanter on the wholeto be through by Thursday or Friday, with several days of deliciousidleness before the new semester began. And as a certain faction of thecollege always manages to suit its own convenience in such matters, thecampus, which is the unfailing index of college sentiment, began to weara leisurely, holiday air some time before the dreaded week was over.

  The ground was covered deeply with snow which a sudden thaw and assudden a freeze had coated with a thick, hard crust. This put a stop tosnow-shoeing and delayed the work of clearing the ice off Paradise pond,where there was to be a moonlight carnival on the evening of the holidaythat follows mid-year week. But it made splendid coasting. Toboggans,"bobs" and hand sleds appeared mysteriously in various quarters, and thepasture hills north of the town swarmed with Harding girls out for freshair, exercise and fun.

  On Friday afternoon an ingenious damsel who had no sled conceived theidea of substituting a dust-pan. So she borrowed one of an obligingchambermaid and went out to the little slope which divides the frontfrom the back campus to try her experiment. In twenty minutes the hillwas alive with girls, all the available dust-pans had been pressed intoservice, and large tin pans were found to do nearly as well. Enviousgroups of girls who could get neither the one nor the other watched theabsurd spectacle from the windows of the nearest campus houses orhurried down-town to buy tinware. Sleds were neglected, toboggansdespised; the dust-pan fad had taken possession of the college.

  Betty, who had the happy faculty of being on hand at interestingmoments, was crossing the campus on her way home from the Hilton House.She had taken her last examination, had helped Alice Waite finish up abox of candy, and now had nothing to do until dinner time, so shestopped to watch the novel coasting, and even had one delicious rideherself on Dorothy King's dust-pan.

  Near the gate she met Mary Brooks and Roberta and asked them if they hadbeen through the campus.

  "No," said Mary, "we've been having chocolate at Cuyler's." And shedragged her companions back to within sight of the hill. Then sheabruptly turned them about and hurried them off in the other direction.

  "Let's go straight down and buy some dust-pans," she beganenthusiastically. "We have just time before dinner, and we can slide allto-morrow afternoon."

  "Oh, no," demurred Roberta. "I couldn't."

  Betty laughed at her expression of alarm, and Mary demanded, "Why not?"

  "Oh, I couldn't," repeated Roberta. "It looks dangerous, and, besides, Ihave to dress for dinner."

  "Dangerous nothing!" jeered Mary. "Don't be so everlastingly neat andlady-like, child. What's the use? Well," as Roberta still hung back,"carry my fountain pen home, then, and don't spill it. Come on, Betty,"and the two raced off down the hill.

  Roberta looked after them admiringly, wishing she were not such a "muff"at outdoor sports.

  The next afternoon Betty and Mary hurried over to the campus directlyafter luncheon to try their new toys. The crust was still firm and thenew sport popular as ever.

  "You see it's much more exciting than a 'bob,'" a tall senior wasexplaining to a group of on-lookers. "You can't steer, so you're just aslikely to go down backward as frontward; and being so near the groundgives you a lovely creepy sensation."

  "The point is, it's such a splendid antidote for overstudying. It justsatisfies that absolutely idiotic feeling that every one has aftermid-years," added an athletic young woman in a gray sweater, as shejoined the group with her dust-pan tucked scientifically under her arm.

  She was Marion Lawrence, sophomore vice-president, and Mary Brooks'sbest friend. Betty, fearing to be in the way, joined another lonefreshman from the Belden
House.

  "Do you suppose you could sit up to study to-night if you had to?"inquired the freshman as they stood waiting their turns to go down.

  "No, only it seems as if you always could do what you have to," answeredBetty, starting off.

  She decided presently that dust-pan coasting was not so much fun as itlooked. Mary Brooks, coming to find her and ask her to join a racingtournament captained by herself and Marion Lawrence, declared noisilythat she was having "the time of her gay young life," but Betty afterthe first coast or two began to think of going home. Perhaps it wasbecause she was so tired. It seemed so much trouble to walk up on theslippery crust and such a long way round by the path. So she refused toenter the tournament. "I'm not going to stay long enough," sheexplained. "I shall just have two more slides. Then I'm going home totake a nap. That's my best antidote for overstudy."

  The next coast was nicer. Perhaps the dust-pan had been too new. TheBelden House freshman said that hers went better since her roommate hadused it and scraped off all the paint in a collision.

  "I wonder there aren't more collisions," said Betty, preparing for herlast slide.

  Half-way down she discovered that the other freshman and the rest hadn'tstarted--that the hill was almost clear. Then somebody called shrilly,"Look out, Miss Wales." She turned her head back toward the voice, thedust-pan swirled, and she turned back again to find herself slippingrapidly sidewise straight toward a little lady who was walking serenelyalong the path that cut the coast at right angles. She was afaculty--Betty hadn't the least idea what her name was, but she hadnoticed her on the "faculty row" at chapel. In an instant more she wascertainly going to run into her. Betty dug her heels frantically intothe crust. It would not break.

  "Oh, I beg your pardon, but I can't stop!" she called.

  At that the little lady, who was walking rapidly with her head bentagainst the wind, looked up and apparently for the first time noticedthe dust-pan coasters. Mirth and confusion overcame her. She stopped aninstant to laugh, then started back, then changed her mind and dashedwildly forward, with the inevitable result that she fell in anundignified heap on top of Betty and the dust-pan. The accident tookplace on the edge of the path where the crust was jagged and icy. Betty,who had gone head-first through it, emerged with a bleeding scratch onone cheek and a stinging, throbbing wrist. Fortunately her companion wasnot hurt.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry!" sighed Betty, trying to brush the snow off hervictim with one hand. "I do hope you'll forgive me for being socareless." Then she sat down suddenly on the broken crust. "It's onlythat my wrist hurts a little," she finished abruptly.

  The girls had gathered around them by this time, sympathizing andlamenting that they had not warned Betty in time. "But we thought ofcourse you saw Miss Ferris," said the tall senior, "and we supposed shewas looking out for you."

  So this was Miss Ferris--the great Miss Ferris. Rachel had sophomorezoology with her and Mary Brooks had said that she was considered themost brilliant woman on the faculty. She was "house-teacher" at theHilton, and Alice Waite and Miss Madison were always singing herpraises.

  She cut Betty's apologies and the girls' inquiries short. "My dearchild, it was all my fault, and you're the one who's hurt. Why didn'tyou girls stop me sooner--call to me to go round the other way? I was ina hurry and didn't see or hear you up there." Then she sat down on thecrust beside Betty. "Forgive me for laughing," she said, "but you didlook so exactly like a giant crab sidling along on that ridiculousdust-pan. Have you sprained your wrist? Then you must come straight overto my room and wait for a carriage."

  Betty's feeble protests were promptly overruled, and supported by MaryBrooks on one side and Miss Ferris on the other she was hurried over tothe Hilton House and tucked up in Miss Ferris's Morris chair by her openfire, to await the arrival of the college doctor and a carriage. Inspite of her embarrassment at having upset so important a personage, andthe sharp pains that went shooting up and down her arm, she was almostsorry when doctor and carriage arrived together. Miss Ferris was evennicer than the girls had said. Somehow she made one feel at homeimmediately as she bustled about bringing a towel and a lotion forBetty's face, hot water for her wrist, and "butter-thins" spread withdelicious strawberry jam to keep her courage up. Before she knew it,Betty was telling her all about her direful experiences duringexamination week, how frightened she had been, and how sleepy she wasnow,--"not just now of course"--and how she had been all ready to gohome when the spill came. And Miss Ferris nodded knowingly at Mary andlaughed her little rippling laugh.

  "Just like these foolish little freshmen; isn't it?" she said, exactlyas if she had been one last year too. And yet there was a suspicion ofgray in her hair, and she was a doctor of philosophy and had written theleading article in the learned German magazine that lay on her table.

  "You must come again, both of you, when I can make tea for youproperly," she said as she closed the carriage door.

  Betty, leaning whitely back on Mary's shoulder, with her arm on MissFerris's softest down pillow, smiled happily between the throbs. If shewas fated to have sprained her wrist, she was glad that she had met MissFerris.

  Saturday night and Sunday were long and dismal beyond belief. The wristached, the cheek smarted, and a bad cold added its quota to Betty'smiseries. But she slept late Monday morning, and when she woke felt ableto sit up in bed and enjoy her flowers and her notoriety. Just afterluncheon the entire Chapin house came in to congratulate and condolewith her.

  "It's too windy to have any fun outdoors," began Rachel consolingly.

  "Who sent you those violets?" demanded Katherine.

  "Miss Ferris. Wasn't it dear of her? There was a note with them, too,that said she considered herself still 'deeply in my debt,' because ofher carelessness--think of her saying that to me!--and that she hopes Iwon't hesitate to call on her if she 'can ever be of the slightestassistance.' And Mary, she said for us not to forget that Friday is herday at home."

  "You are the luckiest thing, Betty Wales," sighed Rachel, who worshipedMiss Ferris from afar.

  "Now if I'd knocked the august Miss Ferris down," declared Katherine, "Ishould probably have been expelled forthwith. Whereas you----" Shefinished the sentence with an expressive little gesture.

  "Who gave you the rest of this conservatory, Betty?" asked Mary Brooks.

  "Clara Madison brought the carnations, and Nita Reese, a girl in mygeometry division, sent the white roses, and Eleanor the pink ones, andthe freshman I was sliding with these lilies-of-the-valley. It's almostworth a sprained wrist to find out how kind people are to you," saidBetty gratefully.

  "Too bad you'll miss to-night," said Mary, "but maybe it will snow."

  "I don't mind that. The worst thing is my not being able to get myconditions off the bulletin," said Betty, making a wry face.

  "Goodness! That is a calamity!" said Katherine with mock seriousness.

  "Nonsense! You've studied," from Rachel.

  "If you should have any conditions, I'll bring them to you," volunteeredEleanor quietly. Then she looked straight at Rachel and Katherine andsmiled pleasantly. "I'm sorry to say that I haven't studied," she said.

  Betty thanked her, feeling more pleased at the apparent harmony of thehousehold than she had been with all her flowers. It was so difficult tolike Eleanor and Rachel and Katherine and Helen, all four, so well, whenRachel and Katherine had good reason for disliking Eleanor, and Helenwouldn't hitch with any of the rest.

  "Do you know that Prexy had forbidden sliding on dust-pans?" asked MaryRich in the awkward pause that followed.

  "Oh, yes," added Mary Brooks, "I forgot to tell you. So it's just aswell that I lost mine in the shuffle."

  "But I'm sorry to have been the one to stop the fun," said Betty sadly.

  "Oh, it wasn't wholly that. Two other girls banged into each other afterwe left."

  "But you're the famous one," added Rachel, "because you knocked overMiss Ferris. She looked so funny and knowing when Prexy announced it inchapel."

&nbs
p; "I wish I could do something for you too," said Helen timidly, after therest had drifted out of the room.

  "Why you have," Betty assured her. "You helped a lot both times thedoctor came, and you've stayed out of the room whenever I wanted tosleep, and brought up all my meals, and written home for me."

  Helen flushed. "That's nothing. I meant something pretty like those,"and she pointed to the tableful of flowers, and then going over to itburied her face in the bowl of English violets.

  Betty watched her for a moment with a vague feeling of pity. "I don'tsuppose she has ten cents a month to spend on such things," she thought,"and as for having them sent to her----" Then she said aloud, "Wecertainly don't need any more of those at present. Were you going to thebasket-ball game?"

  "I thought I would, if you didn't want me."

  "Not a bit, and you're to wear some violets--a nice big bunch. Hand methe bowl, please, and I'll tie them up."

  Helen gave a little gasp of pleasure. Then her face clouded. "But Icouldn't take your violets," she added quickly.

  Betty laughed and went on tying up the bunch, only making it bigger thanshe had at first intended. After Helen had gone she cried just a little."I don't believe she ever had any violets before," she said to the greenlizard. "Why, her eyes were like stars--she was positively pretty."

  More than one person noticed the happy little girl who sat quite alonein the running track, dividing her eager attention between the game andthe violets which she wore pinned to her shabby, old-fashioned brownjacket.

  Meanwhile Betty, propped up among her pillows, was trying to answerNan's last letter.

  "You seem to be interested in so many other people's affairs," Nan hadwritten, "that you haven't any time for your own. Don't make the mistakeof being a hanger-on."

  "You see, Nan," wrote Betty, "I am at last a heroine, an interestinginvalid, with scars, and five bouquets of flowers on my table. I amsorry that I don't amount to more usually. The trouble is that the otherpeople here are so clever or so something-or-other that I can't helpbeing more interested in them. I'm afraid I am only an average girl, butI do seem to have a lot of friends and Miss Ferris, whom you are alwaysadmiring, has asked me to five o'clock tea. Perhaps, some day----"

  Writing with one's left hand was too laborious, so Betty put the letterin a pigeon-hole of her desk to be finished later. As she slipped thesheets in, Miss Ferris's note dropped out. "I wonder if I shall everwant to ask her anything," thought Betty, as she put it carefully awayin the small drawer of her desk that held her dearest treasures.