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Grace Harlowe's Second Year at Overton College

<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <h3>AN OFFENDED FRESHMAN</h3> At dinner that night excitement reigned. Every girl in the house was going to the reception. To dispose of one's dinner and hurry to one's room to begin the all important task of dressing was the order of procedure, and Mrs. Elwood's flock rose from the table almost in a body and made a concerted rush for the stairs. "She got them," Elfreda informed the others as they stopped for a moment in the hall. "I went to the door to ask her. She even thanked me for them." "Wonderful," smiled Miriam. "Come on now. Remember, time flies and that your new white frock is a dream." An hour later Elfreda stood before the mirror viewing herself with great satisfaction. "It certainly is some class," she declared. "There I go again. I haven't used slang for a week. But circumstances alter cases, you know. Just pretend you didn't hear it, will you? I think I'll wear my violets at my girdle. I don't look very stout in this rig, do I? You look like a princess, Miriam. You're a regular howling beauty in that corn-colored frock. Where are my gloves and my cloak? Oh, here they are, just where I put them. Now, I must go for her highness. Br—r—" Elfreda shivered, giggled, then gathering up her cloak and gloves switched out the door. Miriam smiled to herself as she went about gathering up her own effects, then fastening the cluster of yellow rosebuds to the waist of her gown she hurried out into the hall in time to encounter Grace and Anne. "We are fortunate in that our ladies live under the same roof with us," laughed Anne. "It certainly saves carriage hire," returned Grace. "Here comes Elfreda and Miss Atkins. What on earth is she wearing?" "I think I'll go for my freshman," said Miriam, her voice quivering suspiciously. By the time Elfreda and the Anarchist had reached the head of the stairs, the three girls had fled precipitately, unable to control their mirth. Elfreda's face was set in a solemn expression that defied laughter. As for the Anarchist herself, she might easily have posed as a statue of vengeance. Her eyebrows were drawn into a ferocious scowl. She walked down the stairs with the air of an Indian chief about to tomahawk a victim. Her white silk gown, which was well cut and in keeping with the occasion, contrasted oddly with her threatening demeanor, which was enhanced by a feather hair ornament that stood up belligerently at one side of her head. "If she wouldn't wear that feather thing she'd be all right," muttered Grace in Anne's ear. "She looks like Hiawatha. She has made up her mind to be nice with Elfreda. She's wearing her flowers. I wonder if I'd better ask her to dance to-night. Shall you ask her, Anne?" "I think so," reflected Anne. "I can't lead very well, but perhaps she can." "I don't believe I'll ask her," said Grace slowly. "Humiliating one's self needlessly is just as bad as having too much pride." "Hurry," called Miriam, who was already on the stairs. "The carriages are here." It was a ridiculously short drive to the gymnasium, but, a fine rain having set in, carriages for one's freshmen guests were a matter of necessity. Elfreda and her charge occupied seats in the same carriage with Anne and Mildred Taylor, who, in a gown of pink chiffon over pink silk, looked, according to Elfreda, "too sweet to live." "How are you getting along with Miss Atkins?" asked Grace an hour later, running up and waylaying Elfreda, who was slowly making her way across the gymnasium toward the corner of the room where the big punch bowl of lemonade stood. "Don't ask me!" returned Elfreda savagely. "I managed to fill her dance card and supposed everything was lovely. She dances fairly well. If she'd only keep quiet, smile and dance calmly along. But, no, she must talk!" Elfreda's round face settled into lines of disgust. "She says such outrageously personal things to her partners. I know of three different girls she has offended so far. What will become of her before the evening is over?" she inquired gloomily. "She told me I was too stout to dance well, but I didn't mind that. Stout or not, she will be lucky to have even me to dance with at the rate she's going. Let's drown our mortification in lemonade." "Poor Elfreda," sympathized Grace. "I wish I could help you, but, honestly, I feel as though it would be hardly fair to myself to make further advances in that direction." "Don't do it," advised Elfreda, quickly, handing Grace a cup of fruit lemonade. "I'll manage to steer her through this dance. But next time some one else may do the inviting. The two classes make a good showing, don't they?" "Beautiful," commented Grace. "The gymnasium looks prettier than it did last year. That sounds conceited, doesn't it?" "It's true, though," averred Elfreda stoutly. "Doesn't Miriam look stunning to-night? I think she is the handsomest dark girl I ever saw, don't you?" "With one exception," smiled Grace. "Show me the exception, then," challenged Elfreda. "I will some fine day," promised Grace. "She's in Italy now." "You mean the girl you speak of as Eleanor?" asked Elfreda curiously. Grace nodded. "She is one of my dearest friends and belongs to our sorority at home. At one time she was my bitterest enemy," she continued reminiscently. "She was so self-willed and domineering that none of us could endure her. She entered the junior class in high school when Miriam, Anne and I did. For a year and a half she made life miserable for all of us, then something happened and she turned out gloriously. I'll tell you all about it some other time." "Was she worse than the Anarchist?" asked Elfreda sceptically. "There is no comparison," replied Grace promptly. "Still, the Anarchist may have possibilities of which we know nothing." "I wish she would give a demonstration of them to-night then," muttered Elfreda. "I suppose I'll have to get busy and look her up. It is dangerous to leave her to her own devices. She may have offended half the company by this time." Elfreda strolled off in search of her troublesome charge. Grace crossed the gymnasium, her keen eyes darting from the floor, where groups of daintily gowned girls stood exchanging gay badinage, and resting after the last waltz, to the chairs and divans placed at intervals against the walls that were for the most part unoccupied. Everyone seemed to be dancing. Grace remembered with a start that she had seen nothing of Ruth Denton. She had waved to Arline across the room on entering the gymnasium, and had not caught a glimpse of her since. "I must find Ruth," she reflected, "and tell her about to-morrow. Perhaps Anne has told her. She promised she would." Espying Mildred Taylor, Grace remembered with sudden contrition that she had not asked the little freshman to dance. "I suppose she hasn't a single dance left," murmured Grace regretfully. "At any rate, I'll ask her now." Approaching Mildred she said in her frank, straightforward fashion, "I'm so sorry I overlooked you, Miss Taylor. I intended asking you to dance first of all." The "cute" little freshman turned her head away from Grace's apologetic gray eyes. "It doesn't matter," she answered in a queer, strained voice. "My card was full long ago." "I hope you are not hurt or offended at my seeming neglect," insisted Grace anxiously. "Not in the least," was the almost curt rejoinder. "I do not think I shall stay much longer. I have a headache." "I'm so sorry," said Grace sympathetically. "Can I do anything for you?" Mildred Taylor did not answer. Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them angrily away, saying with a petulance entirely foreign to her, "Please don't trouble yourself about me." "Very well," replied Grace, in proud surprise. "Shall I tell Miss Pierson that you are ill?" "No," muttered Mildred. Grace walked away, puzzled and self-accusing. "I hurt her feelings by not asking her to dance," was the thought that sprang instantly to her mind. Then she suddenly recollected that she had not yet found Ruth. A little later she discovered her in earnest conversation with Gertrude Wells at the extreme end of the room. "Dance this with me, Ruth," called Grace, as she neared her friend. Ruth glanced at her card. "I have this one free," she said. A moment later they were gliding over the smooth floor to the inspiriting strains of a popular two step. Long before the end of the dance they stopped to rest and talk. "I suppose we ought to devote ourselves strictly to the freshmen," said Grace. "They all appear to be dancing, though. Where have you been keeping yourself, Ruth?" "I've been busy," replied Ruth evasively. "Will you be too busy to have dinner with us at Vinton's to-morrow night?" persisted Grace. "No-o-o," said Ruth slowly. "At what time?" "Half-past six," returned Grace. "We'll meet you there. I must leave you now to look after Miss Evans. I brought her here to-night." It was late when the notes of the last waltz sounded, and still later when the gay participants left the gymnasium in twos, threes and little crowds trooping down the broad stone steps to where they were to take their carriages. The rain was now falling heavily, and to walk even across the campus was out of the question. Every public automobile and carriage in Overton had been pressed into service, and many who had braved the fine rain early in the evening and walked were obliged to negotiate with the drivers for a return of their vehicles. The carriages to Wayne Hall carried six girls instead of four, and the merry conversation that was kept up during the short drive showed plainly that the evening had been a success. Even the Anarchist indulged in an occasional stiff remark with a view toward being gracious. When Elfreda humorously bowed her to her door and wished her an elaborate good night, an actual gleam of fun appeared in her stormy eyes, and forgetting her dignity she replied almost cordially that she had enjoyed her evening. "I am surprised to think she did after the way she made remarks about people," commented Elfreda to Miriam, who was busily engaged in unhooking the stout girl's gown and listening in amusement to Elfreda's recital. "She has as much tact as a guinea hen. You know how tactful they are?" In the meantime Anne and Grace were discussing the night's festivity in their own room. Grace had slipped into a kimono and stood brushing her long hair before the mirror. Suddenly she paused, her brush suspended in the air. "Anne," she said so abruptly that Anne looked at her in surprise, "did you notice anything peculiar about Miss Taylor? You were her escort, you know." "No," responded Anne, knitting her brows in an effort to remember. "I can't say that I noticed anything." "Then I am right," decided Grace. "She is angry with me because in some way I missed asking her to dance." "She said nothing to me," was Anne's quick reply. "She is offended, I know she is," said Grace. "I'm sorry, of course. I didn't pass her by intentionally. I didn't know she was so sensitive. I think I'll ask her to go to Vinton's for luncheon on Saturday." But when Grace delivered her invitation at the breakfast table the next morning it was curtly refused. Mildred Taylor's attitude, if anything, was a shade more hostile than it had been the night before. From her manner, it was evident that the little freshman, whom Grace had hastened to befriend on that first doleful morning when she found her roomless and in tears on the big oak seat in the hall, had quite forgotten all she owed to the girl she now appeared to be trying to avoid. Finding her efforts at friendliness repulsed, Grace proudly resolved to make no more overtures toward the sulking freshman. She had done everything in her power to make amends for what had been an unintentional oversight on her part, and her self respect demanded that she should allow the matter to drop. She decided that if, later on, Mildred showed a disposition to be friendly, she would meet her half way, but, until that time came, she would take no notice of her or seek further to ascertain the cause of her grievance. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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