Grace Harlowe's Return to Overton Campus Part 10

It was now almost four o'clock in the afternoon. Grace had spent a busy two hours in Miss Wilder's office going over the applications for admittance to Harlowe House and discussing ways and means with her superior.

"Do you know, Miss Wilder, that one of the very nicest things about you is your interest in one's friends and plans?" Grace regarded the older woman with sparkling eyes. "Away back in my freshman days I can remember that I never came to you with anything, but that you were interested and sympathetic."

"My dear child!" Miss Wilder put up a protesting hand.

"It's perfectly true," persisted Grace staunchly. "I am sure I could never have planned everything so beautifully for Harlowe House if you hadn't helped me."

"But I had such a wonderful source of inspiration," reminded Miss Wilder, turning the tide of approbation in Grace's direction.

"I wish I could agree with you," laughed Grace, her color rising. Then her face grew earnest. "It would make me very happy if I thought that, as the head of Harlowe House, I could inspire my girls to love Overton as deeply and truly as I do. I don't intend to preach to them or to moralize, but I do wish them to gain real college spirit. If they strive to cultivate that, it will mean more to them than all the talks and lectures one could give them. Don't you think so?"

"I do, indeed," agreed Miss Wilder warmly.

"Of course," went on Grace thoughtfully, "there is the possibility that some of these girls may fail in their entrance examinations. Undoubtedly they will have to take them, for no girl who applies for admission to Harlowe House will have come from a preparatory school. Naturally, they will all be high school graduates. Some of them will have scholarships and some will not. It is going to be more or less of a struggle for those who have none to earn their college fees--that is, if they haven't saved the money for them beforehand. I am reasonably certain that poor little Mary Reynolds hasn't a penny of her own, other than the ten dollars she has saved. But if she pa.s.ses her examinations she can borrow the money for her college fees from Semper Fidelis. Then, too, there is the subject of rules and regulations to be considered."

"A very important subject," interposed Miss Wilder. "The success of Harlowe House will depend upon its rules and their absolute enforcement."

"Don't you think it would be a nice idea to draw up a little const.i.tution and by-laws as they do in clubs. It would not cost very much to have a certain number of copies of them printed, and a copy placed in each girl's room. Oh, Miss Wilder, wouldn't it be splendid if we could form the girls of Harlowe House into a social club. It would bring them in touch with one another, teach them to be self-governing, and do an endless amount of good." Grace finished with sudden inspiration.

For a moment Miss Wilder did not answer. She was evidently turning the matter over in her own mind. "It is rather an unusual idea," she said slowly, "but I should not be surprised to see it work out well. Among a number of young women who, aside from the advantages Harlowe House offers them, are practically dependent upon their own resources you are sure to find a variety of dispositions, some of them a little warped from their struggle with poverty. I should say that they could be reached and understood better by becoming members of this club, which you propose, than by any other method. Yes, decidedly, it is a good plan."

Grace remained with the dean until after five o'clock talking earnestly of her new work. "Oh, dear, I can scarcely wait for the next two weeks to pa.s.s I'm so anxious to begin," she sighed, as she gathered together her gloves, handkerchief and parasol and rose to go. "Miss Dean will come to see you to-morrow morning, Miss Wilder. I'll send Miss Reynolds with her."

The sun was well advanced on his daily pilgrimage down the western sky, and Grace's usually rapid steps lagged as she crossed the dear familiar campus. Her eyes strayed lovingly from the green velvety carpeting under her feet to the red and yellow pennants of autumn which the trees were flaunting so bravely. It was hard to say at which season of the year Overton campus was most beautiful. To Grace it was like some familiar friend who was constantly surprising her with new and endearing virtues.

She gazed across the wide stretch of green toward Morton House. Two girlish figures were seated on the steps apparently deep in their own interests. A little farther on she met three soph.o.m.ores, who, recognizing her, bowed to her in smiling admiration. Grace stopped and held out her hand with the frank cordiality which characterized her.

After a pleasant exchange of greetings they pa.s.sed on greatly elated over the fact that "that clever Miss Harlowe, who was the most popular girl at Overton last year," had remembered them.

"We're beginning to gather home," she murmured softly. She was pa.s.sing Holland House now, and it brought back delightful memories of Mabel Ashe. Her glance rested wistfully on the front door. She half expected to see it open and to see coming toward her the lithe, graceful figure of the girl whose dainty hands had been the first to grasp hers in friendly welcome, when, as an untried freshman, she had first set foot in the land of Overton so long ago. "Mabel," she breathed, "dear, dear girl! If ever I come to mean half as much to lonely freshmen as you meant to me, I shall feel that I have succeeded gloriously."

Wrapped in recollections of the past, which she realized were bound to haunt her at every turn until time and work had banished her sense of loss, Grace did not hear the light footsteps of the tall young woman who bore noiselessly down upon her like an avenging fate. Suddenly Grace felt two soft, cool hands close over her eyes.

"Oh!" she gasped. Then she laughed. "I know it's some one I'm anxious to see. Is it Kathleen?"

The hands did not relax their pressure.

"Is it Laura Atkins?" guessed Grace again.

The pressure tightened a little.

"I know now," cried Grace. "Why didn't I guess you first of all? It's Patience."

The hands fell away from her eyes. Grace wheeled about into a pair of encircling arms. A very tall, fair-haired young woman stood looking down on her with a face full of lively affection. "I wonder if you are as glad to see me as I am to see you, Grace," was her first speech.

"Every bit as glad," responded Grace with emphasis. "Emma and I have been looking forward to your coming every day since we came."

"Emma?" interrogated Patience. "Do you mean to tell me that Emma Dean is here?"

"Yes," replied Grace happily. "She's come back to be Miss Duncan's a.s.sistant. Isn't that splendid?"

"I've been mourning Emma among the rest of the bright departed spirits,"

smiled Patience, "and thinking of how dull Wayne Hall will be this year without her. Emma is Emma, you know, and cannot be duplicated, imitated nor replaced. I suppose, as a teacher, she'll live in one of the faculty houses, instead of Wayne Hall."

"She is going to have part of my suite at Harlowe House," said Grace.

"But, before I say another word, where are you going?"

"To Overton Hall to see Miss Wilder."

"Can't you put off going until to-morrow morning?" asked Grace.

"Yes, if you and Emma will go with me to the six-thirty train to meet Kathleen and then to dinner at Vinton's afterward."

"Will we?" cried Grace. "I should say--I'm afraid we can't, Patience."

Her jubilant tone changed to one of disappointment. "I forgot all about Mary Reynolds."

"Who is Mary Reynolds and what did I ever do to her that causes her to conspire to cheat me of the society of my friends?" inquired Patience humorously.

"Not a single thing," a.s.sured Grace brightening again. "She's the thirty-second applicant for admission to Harlowe House, but she's living there as my guest for a few days until she finds out whether she 'belongs.' Suppose you walk over there with me. I wish you to see the house before the tenants arrive. I'll tell you the strange story of Mary Reynolds on the way over. Emma's at home, so you can see her, too."

"All right, I'll go, provided you and your entire family, including Mary Reynolds, escort me to the train to meet Kathleen."

"Here's my hand on it," promised Grace.

Patience caught it in both of hers. "It's good to be here, Grace," she said earnestly.

"It's good to have you here, Patience," returned Grace, in the same earnest tone.

Patience was met at the door by Emma, who had seen their approach from the living-room window, and who now pounced upon Patience and joyfully escorted her into the living-room.

"The plot thickens," declaimed Emma as the three paused in the middle of the room. "Hurrah for the old guard! Like Macbeth's immortal witches, I'll perform my antic round, just to show how jubilant I feel." She executed a few fantastic steps about Patience, then paused beside her, one hand on her shoulder. "Where did you acquire Patience, Grace?"

"I acquired this particular kind of Patience on the campus just a few moments ago. I have never actually acquired the other kind."

"You're not the only one," murmured Emma significantly.

"Where is our freshman-to-be?"

"In her room and fast asleep, I suppose. Although she wouldn't admit it, I know she was completely tired out. I could see that," she added slyly.

Patience and Grace smiled in quick recognition of J. Elfreda Briggs' pet phrase.

"How I wish 'I could see' dear old J. Elfreda. Wouldn't it be glorious if she were suddenly to appear in the flesh," sighed Emma.

"She was here with Mrs. Gray and I in August, Patience." Grace went on to relate the details of Elfreda's visit. "Emma has heard all this before. Still, you don't mind hearing it again, do you, Emma?"

"I could listen to it forever, and then ask for a repet.i.tion," a.s.serted Emma with gallant glibness.

"I won't be so malicious as to take you at your word," returned Grace.