Grace Harlowe's First Year at Overton College Part 20

Grace looked pleadingly at the irresponsive junior. For a moment tense silence reigned. Then Beatrice Alden shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Harlowe," she said soberly. All trace of hauteur had disappeared. "But you know how angry Alberta was when she left here. She wouldn't listen to me. I doubt if she speaks to me again this year. She has a frightful temper and holds the slightest grudge for ages. She will carry out her plan now, merely to show me how utterly she disregards my disapproval."

"I'm sorry, too," smiled Grace ruefully. "I shall try to see Miss Briggs, but she is utterly unapproachable."

The two girls looked into each other's eyes. Then they both laughed.

Beatrice Alden stretched out her hand impulsively. "We're both in an evil case, aren't we?" she laughed.

Grace met the hand half way. "But we are of the same mind, aren't we?"

she asked.

"Yes," replied Beatrice simply. She hesitated, looked rather confused, then added: "I used to think I disliked you, Miss Harlowe, but I find my feelings toward you are quite the opposite. I hope we shall some day be friends."

"I hope so, too," agreed Grace earnestly. "We have a mutual friend, you know, in Mabel Ashe, although yours and Mabel's friendship began long before I came to Overton." A shadow crossed Beatrice's face. Grace noted it and interpreted it correctly. "You are very fond of Mabel, are you not, Miss Alden?" she asked.

"Very," was the short answer.

"Anne Pierson is the dearest girl friend I have in the world," declared wily Grace. "Then two Oakdale girls who are studying in an eastern conservatory of music come next, and after that Miriam Nesbit. There are also three other girls, members of a high school sorority to which I belong, and a girl in Denver, who have very strong claims on my affection. I have a number of dearest friends, you see. Some time I should like to tell you more of them."

Beatrice had brightened visibly as Grace talked. She now felt a.s.sured that this attractive freshman with her clear grey eyes and straightforward manner would never attempt to monopolize Mabel's entire attention.

At this moment Mabel's voice was heard at the head of the stairs. She descended, followed by Leona Rowe and Helen Burton.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Bee!" cried Mabel. "I asked for you upstairs, but was told you were out."

"So I was," smiled Beatrice, "but I'm here now. What is your pleasure?"

"Come over to Holland House and have tea and cakes and candy, if there's any left in the box of Huyler's that came last night. Every girl in the house sampled it. You know what that means."

"I'll go for my hat and coat," returned Beatrice brightly. "See you in a minute." She ran lightly up the stairs, smiling to herself. Helen and Leona rushed out in the hall to interview a girl who had just come in.

Finding themselves alone for the moment Mabel turned to Grace with a solemnly inquiring air, "How did you do it?" she asked in a low tone.

"I'll tell you some other time," replied Grace. "It was a surprise to me, but the chance just happened to come and I took advantage of it."

The return of the three young women cut off further opportunity for explanation, but as Grace walked back to Holland House, one arm linked in that of Mabel Ashe, while Beatrice Alden, heretofore frigid and unapproachable, walked at the other side of the popular junior, she could not help wishing a certain other tangle might be as easily straightened.

CHAPTER XXI

AN UNHEEDED WARNING

The next day found Grace rather at a loss how to proceed in the case of Elfreda. From what she had overheard it was evident that Alberta Wicks and Mary Hampton had decided to make Elfreda the victim of some well-laid plot of their own. What the nature of it was Grace had not the remotest idea. To approach Elfreda was embarra.s.sing to say the least. To warn her against the two mischievous soph.o.m.ores without being able to state anything more definite than what she had overheard at Wellington House was infinitely more embarra.s.sing.

"What time had I best try to see her?" Grace asked herself. She had come from Overton Hall with Anne and Miriam late that afternoon and the three girls had lingered on the steps of Wayne Hall, reluctant to go indoors.

Spring was getting ready to fulfill all sorts of tender promises she had made to her children. The buds on the trees were bursting into tiny new green leaves. The crocuses were in bloom in the yards along College Street, and the gra.s.s on the campus was growing greener every hour. The roads, too, were obligingly drying, so that adventurous walkers might visit their favorite haunts in the country surrounding Overton without running the risk of wading in the mud.

There was Guest House, the famous colonial tea shop that had been built and used as an inn during the Revolution. In this quaint historic place ample refreshment was to be found. There one could satisfy one's appet.i.te with dainty little sandwiches, m.u.f.fins and jam, tea cakes and tea, fresh milk or b.u.t.termilk.

There was also Hunter's Rock that overhung the river, and whose smooth, flat surface made an ideal spot for picnickers. It was five miles from Overton, but extremely popular with all four cla.s.ses, and from early spring until late fall, it was occupied on Sat.u.r.day by various gay gipsy parties from the college. Then there were canoes for the venturesome, and staid old rowboats for the cautious, to be hired at a nominal sum, while girlish figures dotted the golf course and the tennis courts.

Girls strolled about the campus in the early evenings, or gathered in groups on the steps of the campus houses. It was the time of year when spring creeps into one's blood, making one forget everything except the blueness of the sky, the softness of the air and the lure of green things growing.

"I must go into the house," sighed Miriam Nesbit. "I have that appalling trigonometry lesson for to-morrow to prepare from beginning to end. I haven't looked at it yet."

"I peeped at it yesterday," said Anne. "It's the worst one we've had, so far."

"The end is not yet," reminded Grace.

"Well it will be in sight before long. Our freshman year is almost over, didn't you know it, children!" queried Miriam laughingly.

"It has seemed long in some respects and short in others," reflected Grace. "I think--" Grace paused. A tall, rather stout girl came hurriedly up the walk. She stalked up the steps and into the house without looking to the right or left. Even in that fleeting moment Grace noted that she seemed rather excited and that she carried in her hand an open letter. "I wonder if now would be a good time to tackle her,"

speculated Grace. Then deciding that, after all, there was nothing to be gained without making a venture, Grace walked resolutely to the door.

"I'll see you later, girls," was her only remark as she pa.s.sed inside.

Once outside Elfreda's door, Grace did not feel quite so confident.

Summoning all her courage, however, she knocked. An impatient voice called, "Come in," and Grace accepted the rather ungracious invitation to enter. J. Elfreda sat facing the window intent upon the letter Grace had seen in her hand. She turned sharply as the door closed, then catching sight of Grace, sprang to her feet, her face clouded with anger. "How dare you come in here?" she stormed.

"You said 'Come in,' Elfreda," returned Grace quietly.

"Yes, but not to you," raged Elfreda. "Never to you. Leave my room instantly and don't come back again."

"I won't trouble you long," returned Grace. "I came to put you on your guard against two young women who are about to make mischief for you. I am very sorry I did not tell you long ago that Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton were the originators of the anonymous letter which caused you so much unhappiness. I suspected as much at the time, and accused them of writing it. They neither affirmed nor denied their part in the affair, although they admitted that certain members of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s wrote the letter. I threatened to take up the matter with the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s if the two young women persisted in making you unhappy, and this threat evidently influenced them to drop their crusade against you.

"To a certain extent I feel responsible for what has followed, for if I had told you this before you would hardly have afterward become friendly with them. However, I can do this much. From a conversation I overheard the other day I am convinced that Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton intend to play a practical joke on you on Friday night. I am afraid that it will not be of the tame variety either, and may cause you trouble.

These two girls do not like you, Elfreda, and they have not forgiven you nor never will."

"You are awfully anxious to make me think that no one but you and your friends ever liked me, aren't you?" sneered Elfreda. "Well, just let me tell you something. Those girls may have their faults, but they aren't stingy and selfish, at all events. This letter here is an invitation to----, well, I shan't tell you what it is, but it's far from being a practical joke, I can a.s.sure you."

Grace looked doubtfully at Elfreda, who stood very erect, her head held high with offended dignity. Perhaps, after all, she had been too hasty.

Perhaps the two soph.o.m.ores really intended playing some harmless trick.

Then the words, "We are not going to bother with J. Elfreda much longer," returned with a force that left Grace no longer in uncertainty.

"Elfreda," she said earnestly, "I wish you would listen to me for once.

Miss Wicks and Miss Hampton are not your friends. If you accept their invitation for Friday night you will be sorry. Take my advice, and steer clear of them."

"Please mind your own business and get out of my room," commanded Elfreda fiercely.

Casting one steady, reproachful look at the angry girl, Grace left the room in silence. Once outside her own door she clenched her hands and fought back her rising emotion. Tears of humiliation stood in her gray eyes, then winking them back bravely, she drew a long breath and opened her door. Anne, who in the meantime had come upstairs, turned expectantly. "What luck?" she questioned.

"None," returned Grace shortly. "She ordered me out of her room."

At this juncture Miriam Nesbit joined them. "What's the latest on the bulletin board?" she inquired, smiling mischievously.

"Don't laugh, Miriam," rebuked Grace. "Things are serious. Elfreda has some sort of engagement for Friday night with those two girls. She almost told me what it was, then changed her mind and invited me to mind my own business and leave her room. I'm going to try to find out something about Friday night and see that she gets fair play. After that I shall never trouble myself about her," concluded Grace, her voice trembling slightly.

"Don't feel so hurt at Elfreda's rudeness, Grace," soothed Miriam. "She doesn't mean half she says. She'll be sorry some day."