Grace Harlowe's Fourth Year at Overton College Part 18

"Miss Pierson! Miss Pierson!" Mrs. Elwood's voice was heard in the hall at the foot of the stairs.

Anne sprang to the door. "Here I am, Mrs. Elwood," she called, stepping down the hall to the head of the stairs.

"Here's a telegram for you. Will you please come downstairs and sign for it?"

Anne hurried down the stairs, her heart beating violently. She signed the messenger boy's book, shoved the pencil into his hand and ran back to Grace as fast as her feet would carry her.

"It's a telegram, Grace. It's for me. I'm afraid to open it," she cried, dashing into the room. "Open it. I dare not. Oh, if anything has happened to Mother or Mary!"

Grace took the envelope Anne held out to her. Her own hands were trembling with apprehension, yet she managed to tear open the envelope and draw out the fateful message. There was the crackling sound of unfolding paper, then Grace cried out in joyful tones: "Anne, you never can guess! It is too good to be true!"

Anne sprang to her feet, and darting to where Grace stood, the open telegram in her hands, peered over her shoulder. A moment later she and Grace joined hands and performed a joyful dance about the room.

"What on earth is the cause of all this jubilation?" queried Miriam's voice from the doorway. "I knocked, but no one paid any attention to me.

It sounded from the outside as though you might be engaged in deadly conflict, so I decided to interfere."

The dance ceased and Grace thrust the telegram, which she still held, into Miram's hands. "Read it," she commanded.

"Will arrive in Overton 5:30. Meet me. With love. Rose Gray."

And, reinforced by Miriam, the dance was begun again with renewed vigor.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FAIRY G.o.dMOTHER'S VISIT

Three excited young women burst in upon Elfreda, who, seated on the floor before her trunk, hastily deposited a large flat package in the tray and slammed down the lid. "Why didn't you knock!" she grumbled, looking mild displeasure at the intruders. "If you had come five minutes sooner you would have seen your Christmas presents, and I couldn't have stopped you. I'm going to have a 'Busy, Keep Out' sign made to hang on the door until Christmas."

"Don't be cross, J. Elfreda Briggs," laughed Grace. "We have something nice to show you." She handed the telegram to Elfreda with: "We want you to go to the station with us this afternoon. The train is due at five-thirty."

Elfreda's round face flushed at this mark of thoughtfulness on the part of the girls she adored, and agreed almost shyly to make one of the party. She had never become quite used to the knowledge that these three young women had long since accepted her as one of their number.

Consequently an invitation to partic.i.p.ate in their personal good times or to share their intimate friends was always a matter of wonder to her.

The train was reported to be on time, but the quartette of happy-faced young women who waited impatiently for its arrival from the north that afternoon were agreed that it must be late. It was Anne who, when it rushed into the station, first espied the familiar figure of the snowy-haired old lady who had brought so much sunshine into her life, and her quick eyes also discovered the ident.i.ty of the tall, broad-shouldered young man who was helping her down the car steps. "Oh, Tom Gray is with her!" she exclaimed in delight.

"How nice!" cried Grace, with frank, unembarra.s.sed pleasure. "I never thought that he would come with Mrs. Gray."

Her three friends exchanged significant glances. It was quite evident that Grace Harlowe's regard for Tom held nothing of the sentimental.

"Here they are! Here are my dear Christmas children!" Mrs. Gray looked no older than when she had welcomed them to her house party eight Christmases before. She spoke in the same sprightly manner, and smiled in the same kindly, gentle fashion that had warmed the heart of Anne Pierson when, poor and unknown, she had placed her hand in Mrs. Gray's at that first eventful freshman tea which was the beginning of happiness for her. Anne's brown eyes filled with tears as she embraced her "fairy G.o.dmother" and heard her murmur, "My own dear Anne."

"Please give Aunt Rose a chance to catch her breath and turn your attention upon me," was Tom's plaintive plea.

"We are terribly, horribly, dreadfully glad to see you!" laughed Grace, shaking Tom's hand in her boyish, energetic fashion.

"'Terribly, horribly, dreadfully!'" repeated Tom. "Did you say this was your last year in college?"

"Don't be sarcastic," reproved Miriam. "Circ.u.mstances alter English.

Grace was only trying to convey to you our deep appreciation of your arrival."

Tom glanced almost wistfully at Grace, who had turned from him and was devoting her whole attention to Mrs. Gray. "I hope you girls are as glad to see me as I am to see you," he said, his eyes still upon Grace.

"Of course we are. How did you happen to think of coming to Overton? Are you going to stay until next Wednesday? If you do, then we can all journey to Oakdale together."

"Ask Aunt Rose. I am her faithful bodyguard. I know she intends to stay until to-morrow at least. I hope you can persuade her to remain at Overton until you go home. I am a working man now, you know, and Washington is a long way from here." Tom's ambition to make forestry his life work had been in a measure realized, and with his graduation from college had come the offer of a position in the Department of Forestry at Washington.

"Yes, children, dear, I will remain in Overton until your vacation begins if the town boasts of a comfortable hotel where I can not only demand, but receive, good service."

"The 'Tourraine' is the very hotel for you, Mrs. Gray," said Grace. "We stayed there for a day or two when we first came to Overton. The service is excellent."

"Then see to my luggage, Tom, and find me a cab or an automobile. The sooner I am settled the sooner I can hear what my girls have been doing.

I have heard very nice things of you, my dear," she said to Elfreda, who, having shaken hands with Mrs. Gray, stood at the outer edge of the little group, looking on with shining eyes.

"She looks like a piece of Dresden china," was Elfreda's remarkable statement to Miriam as the little company, headed by Grace and Tom, made its way to the other side of the station in search of an automobile.

"You funny girl," Miriam laughed softly, "what an idea!"

"But she does," persisted Elfreda in a low tone. "She's white and pink and fine and--and--fragile. She's dainty and exquisite, and there's a kind of rare china look about her that----"

"I am going to tell her you said she looked like a piece of Dresden china," interposed Miriam. "Mrs. Gray----"

"If you do, Miriam Nesbit, you'll be sorry," warned Elfreda, clutching Miriam's arm.

"What is it, my dear?" answered the old lady. They had come to a halt at the end of the platform and were waiting for Tom to secure a car.

Elfreda surveyed Miriam with a threatening glare.

"Elfreda says that you"--she darted a mischievous glance at her friend--"look just as she imagined you would."

Elfreda's expression was a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Then you are not disappointed in me," smiled the old lady.

"I should say not!" was the quick response. "I only hope you will adopt me some day as one of your children."

"That is very sweet in you, my child," declared Mrs. Gray. "I hereby adopt you on the spot. Ah, here is our car. I think we are more than ready for it."

"Now that you've been adopted," muttered Miriam in Elfreda's ear, "I won't betray you."

"Thank you for nothing," flung back Elfreda.

"Tell the chauffeur to drive past Overton College," Grace had requested Tom, and Mrs. Gray had exclaimed in admiration of stately Overton Hall, standing like a sentinel in the midst of the wide campus. The chapel, the library, Greek Hall, Science Hall, in fact, each one of the smaller, but equally ornamental, buildings were duly pointed out and commented upon.

Mrs. Gray insisted that they should be her guests at dinner at the "Tourraine," and after dinner they repaired to the cozy sitting room in her suite of rooms for a long, confidential chat, which lasted until after ten o'clock.