Elizabeth Hobart at Exeter Hall Part 9

That was all, but it was enough. Elizabeth crept into bed and turned her face to the wall. She had no desire to cry now. Anger and grief were holding equal places with her.

She was too young and healthy and sleepy to stay awake long. She had been sleeping uneasily when she awoke from a horrible nightmare. She had dreamed that a most formidable array of shoes and stockings, hats and coats in the form of grinning spectres were hovering about her ready to seize her. When she was wide awake, she remembered the cause of her dream.

She remembered, too, that she had not put the sitting-room in order.

Crawling softly from bed, she crept into the study. It seemed as though each chair, in a conspiracy to make her efforts difficult, stood in her path. She turned on the gas and gathered together her possessions. Then she crept back to her nest again, hoping that the spectres of her negligence would not haunt her.

CHAPTER V.

A BOX FROM HOME.

For some days the relations between Elizabeth and her roommate were strained. No further words concerning the order of the room pa.s.sed between them, but each time they dressed, whether for breakfast or dinner, Miss Wilson made a point of looking about both rooms to see that each article was as it should be. The very calmness of her manner was exasperating.

Elizabeth was hurt more by it than by words. She paid no attention to Mary's vain efforts, for they had grown to be vain, as Elizabeth was keeping the tightest kind of a rein on herself.

Each article of dress was hung in its proper place as it left her hand.

Each pencil went back to the pencil-holder even when she intended using it in a few minutes. She did not grant herself a second's grace. Her efforts were untiring during the first and second week. Many times she went back from the door of the cla.s.s-room to be sure that every article in her room was where it should be.

Gradually she formed the habit of being orderly. It was but a few weeks until she discovered that she put her clothes away without thinking about it. She discovered, too, that she was actually saving time in not having to hunt for anything.

Mrs. Schuyler, the preceptress, generally looked in upon the rooms while the girls were at cla.s.s. She was a dainty little widow, with a manner which she supposed to be pleasant and ingratiating but which the girls termed monotonously servile. Her expression was so exceedingly pleasant that the students named her Mrs. Smiles.

One Sat.u.r.day morning as she made her daily rounds, she found both Elizabeth and Mary in their rooms.

"Miss Hobart, I must speak with you," she said, sweeping in, the long train of her black house gown trailing after her. "I wish to commend you on the improvement you have made in keeping your apartments in order. It has been weeks since I have found an article out of place on your dresser; and your closet has been in excellent order."

"You are very kind to tell me so," was the response. "But I take little credit to myself for the improvement. I've had such an example and mentor always before me that I could scarce be anything else but improved."

Miss Wilson stood by but gave no indication of hearing the remark until Mrs. Smiles, smiling and bowing, dragged her train from the room. Then she turned to Elizabeth.

"I scarcely expect you'll forgive me for the way I spoke that evening. But I was provoked and--and--humiliated. Miss Watson has always been my ideal and I did wish her to see me at my best."

"I think she did. You were all that could be expected of a girl. The Sphinx itself, could not have been more outwardly calm. I fancy Miss Watson went away in admiration of your self-control. If I remember, I was the only one who appeared to disadvantage."

There was a trace of bitterness in the girl's voice, for in spite of her effort to forget, the hurt of that evening still rankled within her.

"Now, Elizabeth, please do not speak in that tone. I was sorry for my words that evening the moment I spoke. But I am hasty. I try my best to keep quiet when I'm angry; but now and then I express myself before I realize it. You can't expect perfection in anyone. A quick temper is my besetting sin. I try to overcome it; but until I do my friends must bear with me. No one is perfection."

"Indeed," was the reply, "I'm rather surprised that you hold such an opinion. From the way you spoke that evening, I could not have judged you to be so liberal."

Miss Wilson knew her words were wasted. With a quick, impulsive movement she crossed the room to where Elizabeth stood, and throwing her arms about her, cried out, "You must not talk like that, Elizabeth. You are not naturally sarcastic. Let me be the disagreeable one--if one there must be."

She drew Elizabeth's head down, kissing her warmly. It was impossible to be vexed long with such a whole-souled, impulsive girl as Miss Wilson.

Elizabeth smiled and relented. From that time matters between the two moved smoothly as at first; but Elizabeth did not relax her vigilance. She realized how others might be inconvenienced and mortified by her carelessness. From an economical point of view, too, it was better to reform; for she had lost much time, and been tardy at cla.s.s frequently on account of having to hunt for some needed article.

This week proved to be one of the most eventful of Elizabeth's school year. She did not plan to go home for Thanksgiving. The Sat.u.r.day previous she received a box from her mother. It was filled with all the good things a mother's heart could devise and a cook's skillful hands make ready. Miss Wilson carried the news of the arrival of the box to Elizabeth.

"The expressman's on his way up with an immense box," she cried, tossing back her hair, and talking as excitedly as though Exeter Hall were governed by a Board of Starvation.

Elizabeth hurried to the door. The expressman was already there, with about as much as he could carry.

Mary, as usual, arose to the occasion. She a.s.sisted to unpack. She expressed the proper amount of enthusiasm and admiration at each edible as it was brought forth. When the contents had been properly disposed of on every available window-sill, study-table and on the floor close to the wall where they would not be in the way of pa.s.sing feet, she arose from her knees before the empty box. "You'll have the spread to-night, I suppose. Some of the girls will be away to-morrow."

Elizabeth had been long enough at Exeter to learn the meaning of that magic word "spread." There are receptions, socials and spreads, but the greatest of these are spreads. A spread means slipping through dimly lighted corridors long after the retiring-bell has sounded its last warning; it means bated breaths, whispers and suppressed giggles. Its regalia is dressing-gowns or kimonos with bedroom slippers. It means mysterious knocks at the hostess' door; a hurried skirmish within; and when it is found that one of the enlightened is rapping for admission, there is a general exodus from closets, from behind window draperies and from beneath study-tables.

Spreads have never been prohibited. Indeed, it is generally understood that the faculty would gladly grant permission for them, if the time and place were opportune. But never in the history of school-life has permission been asked. With permission granted, a spread would not be a spread. It would be a mere lunch--an opportunity to partake of delicacies.

Elizabeth's eyes grew big at Mary's suggestion. "We'll have it to-night,"

she exclaimed, "after the lights are out. Do you think we could have it here? Mrs. Smiles is at the end of the hall. We'll have to be so careful."

"So much the more fun. A spread is supposed to be risky, else it would not be a spread. Whom will you invite?"

Elizabeth began to name them on her fingers. "Anna Cresswell, Landis, Min, Mame Welch, and Miss O'Day." Her acquaintance with the last-named student had not progressed far enough to permit calling her by her first name. As far as Miss O'Day was concerned, the Exeter girls knew not friendship.

Elizabeth could see that the girl herself made no advances. From her att.i.tude, it was impossible to judge whether she was proud or shy.

Scarcely the latter, for she carried herself with a self-poise which was suggestive of confidence. Elizabeth had not learned the cause of the estrangement between her and the other students. No one had ventured an explanation to her and she would not ask. Now at the mention of her name, Miss Wilson grew dignified--a sure sign that she was half angry.

"I wouldn't ask her," she said.

"Why not?"

"Oh, simply because I wouldn't. None of the girls ever invite her, or haven't for the last year."

"Oh, well, no doubt I do a great many things which none of the other girls do, so I might as well do this. I don't object to being a little odd."

"Well, if you do--if you take Nora O'Day up and make a friend of her, the other girls will surely cut you."

"Cut me?" exclaimed Elizabeth, for the first time in her life fairly indignant. Her pride was aroused. "Cut me? Well, let that be as they choose. They'll not have the opportunity, for I can let them as severely alone as they do Nora O'Day. If I cannot invite whom I please to my spread without asking the advice of a dozen other girls, then I'll not have it at all. I don't know and don't wish to know why you girls snub Miss O'Day. As far as I can see, she acts quite as well as some others at Exeter."

"We don't snub her, at least I have never done so. I treat her with conventional courtesy."

"Conventional courtesy! Deliver me from it, then. Why, the thermometer falls below zero whenever she comes where you girls are together. I know no evil of her. She has always treated me nicely, and I shall treat her so. When I discover that she is not fit to a.s.sociate with, then I'll let her alone."

"But, Elizabeth, if you only knew!"

"But I don't know and I don't want to know." Mary hesitated. She was not tempted to tell Elizabeth the whole story of the year before. She was never tempted to tell news or bruit from one student to another what was no concern of hers. She hesitated because she was uncertain whether it paid to carry the discussion further. After a moment's thought, she decided that much talking would not be effective.

"Very well, Elizabeth, do as you please. Ask anyone you choose. Of course the spread is yours. But if you ask Nora O'Day, you may expect to find me occupied at that time. Landis will not mind if I go over to her rooms. I'm off now to geometry! Of course, I'll help you get ready and all that."

With this parting shot, she quitted the room. Elizabeth had a vacant period following, a time generally devoted to looking over her work.

To-day she employed it in reviewing her conversation with Mary Wilson. She was gradually awakening to the knowledge that a certain independence of thought and action was necessary if one would not become a mere tool used by each and all of her friends. At Bitumen, her parents and Miss Hale had influenced her. But there had been such a sweet unselfishness in all they did, such an evidence that they were working for her good, that Elizabeth had allowed their will to become her own. As she considered the matter now, she could remember no instance when she had been conscious of feeling that any other course of action save that which they suggested would have been pleasing to her. She was fond of her roommate. Mary had helped her over many a little difficulty in regard to cla.s.ses and gym work. She was one of those whole-souled girls who was more than ready and willing to divide both her good times and her possessions.

Elizabeth had not become so interested in Miss O'Day that her presence at the spread would cause her any great pleasure. Had Mary Wilson not shown such a spirit of authority, such a desire to have her own will in this, Elizabeth would have dropped the matter without a thought. But now she felt that she would ask Miss O'Day. If she did so, she _would_ be an independent person; if she did not, she would be doing merely as her roommate wished, in a blind way, without knowing the reason for her action.

While she was pondering the matter, there came back to her the words her father had spoken when he had planned to send her to school. "The girls will teach you more than any of the faculty." There was one thing they would teach her, she decided instantly, and that was to form her own opinions of people, and to follow out her own course of action. She would ask Miss O'Day to her spread. Mary Wilson could come or stay away just as she chose. Mary should decide that matter for herself.

When once Elizabeth made a decision, there was no dilly-dallying, no going back and wondering if she had done the right thing. Taking up her pencil, she began to jot down the names of those to be invited. Nora O'Day's name headed the list with Azzie Hogan's tagged on at the last. The majority of the girls were at cla.s.s. Her only opportunity for seeing them was immediately before dinner or during study-hour in the evening, providing Mrs. Smiles did not keep too close a watch.