Jane Allen: Center Part 12

"Were you frightened of anything?" asked Miss Jordan, rubbing the trembling hands.

"But no one came in, did they, Helen?" asked Jane in real alarm.

"Oh, no, I-locked the door when I felt so queer. I thought perhaps it was the expressmen, but I could not attend--"

"You were very wise, my dear," and Miss Jordan shook her head thoughtfully. "It was better to be alone, although the experience was unpleasant. Those men might have picked up anything from this collection and then--"

"I am so sorry we left you alone," Judith murmured, with real penitence in her voice. "And to think we were gadding about, while you were ill and needed us so urgently. There, swallow that ammonia. It will soon revive you. I should hate to faint."

"Oh, I am again all right," and the pale face lightened up just a shade. "I am so much of a baby to get sick like that--"

"We will not leave New York until to-morrow if you do not feel perfectly all right," announced Jane with authority.

"Oh, but please, yes," begged Helen. "I am so glad to get to the big school. I like New York, but it is not like the college with all big grounds--"

"That is just what I say, Miss Allen," put in Miss Jordan as she smoothed the cushions they were piling around Helen. "You young ladies have been having a great time, running around and feeding on electives, as we say at college when we choose our own studies. Are you sure you feel all right to travel, Helen?"

"Oh, yes, indeed. It was nothing. I was so happy-with all the new things that I forgot to eat my breakfast. I shall be all ready when the other girls are. And I am so grieved to give trouble." Helen was now quite herself again. The ammonia had done the work of restoring the temporarily impeded circulation. But Jane and Judith were not satisfied that all the story of her sudden illness had been told. It was decidedly strange that a girl should faint, right in her own room, and in the middle of the day. Still, both were too wise to press questions just then. The very best plan to be put in operation, they were deciding silently, was for all hands to be off to Wellington that very afternoon.

There was some bustling about, but Miss Jordan helped, and in spite of the confusion the baggage was finally shipped successfully and on time.

"Little old New York!" exclaimed Jane merrily, pressing her personal good bye on Miss Jordan. "You have been very good to the Wellington Refugees. And we thank you."

CHAPTER XII-WELLINGTON EN Ma.s.sE

"Pray tell me, pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you?"

This came from the spreading oak, while from the group of young pines, in a remote corner of the campus the answer wafted in vigorous girlish voices:

"There are a few, and pretty too-to-too, to-oo-oo-oo."

It was the call to the incoming horde, on their first day at Wellington.

Over in the hollow, known as the Lair, another contingent from the upper cla.s.ses called out, rather than sang:

"Sing a song of Freshies ready for the fray, Open arms, oh, Wellington, and carry them away!"

A grand rush followed this challenge. The newcomers to Wellington, some timid, some brave, but all expectantly happy, were then borne away to the mysteries of college initiation-to the great world of advanced education. No hazing here, just the good-natured pranks dear to the heart of every college girl, and significant in the good fellowship established at the very outset of the broader school life. Came another shout:

"Get together, all together, keep together-wow!

Every little Freshie must make a pretty bow!"

This was the signal for the real carrying off, for as the freshmen complied with the order "to bow" each was blindfolded, and carried off by a pair, or more, of strong arms, and quickly deposited in the gym.

With that dexterity for which such pranks are chiefly remarkable, the stunt was accomplished, to the sophs being a.s.signed the task. The pledge of college sorority restricts the publication of the actual happenings in the sacred confines of the gym on this Initiation Day, but facts not on the program may be honorably recounted.

When Helen was ordered to sit down, she did so with such unexpected alacrity that she sat on the college cat-Minerva by name.

No one regretted this accident more than did the cat. The howl from the girls, and the protests from Minerva fully substantiating this statement. But following this incident no one else could be induced to sit down. All feared cats, fiercer cats and bigger cats. As usual with the simple sitting down order a merry time followed. The blinded girls always feel they are in some unseen danger and refuse to be seated.

Visions of cold lakes, high hills, soapy tubs, and even sequestered cats, seem to possess the aspirants. Of course, when they do unbend, they always find themselves sitting comfortably in a perfectly good seat. But Helen sat down with a bang, and this promptness won her first goal.

"She's a good sport!"

"A regular scout!"

"That's the sort of do-it-tive-ness!"

"Three cheers for Helen, Helena, Nellie and Nell!"

"All in favor of Nell shout!"

"Nell, Nell, ding, dong, ding!"

"She's with the Wellington's! Her hat's in the ring!" shouted, cheered and yelled the sororities.

Thus winning the first goal at initiation, Helen, thereafter to be known as Nell, found herself in unsought favor. The shouts and cheers of her new companions pleased none better than Jane Allen, although Jane had done nothing to provoke the sentiment. No one in Wellington knew, or would know, about the scholarship. When the announcement was made to schools in the spring, that such an opportunity was open to them, there was expressed keen interest, but in Wellington little or nothing was said or done to attract attention to the fact of a free scholarship. This was obviously good taste, as otherwise the winner would undoubtedly suffer social hardships.

As a prelude to other good times Train Day sports were carried on auspiciously. The fairness of putting the freshies "through" at once was apparent, as any delay, however trivial, served to develop for the newcomers-friends or enemies. Thus it was that the up-to-date plan of efficiency included these initial sports.

Also, it was better for the freshmen. They did not then have to go about for days fearing accidents, either planned or spontaneous. They were thus saved from the horror of fasting, fearing mustard or soap; they might now look on the lake without dreading a mysterious hand in the ducking process, and they might go to bed without special precautions suggesting accidental insurance policies.

After a few simple stunts, such as singing in three foreign languages, answering ten questions truthfully and reciting Mother Goose from Tucker to Horner, the new students were considered qualified to take their places as freshmen.

The treat of the day was the Free Lunch Spread. This consisted of a typical lunch-wagon meal. In fact, the wagons, relics of the good old days when college raised its own supplies, had been fitted up, and from this portable delicatessen, coffee, rolls, hamburger and franks were distributed. Golden rod and iron weed, the gold and purple blending royally notwithstanding franks and hamburgers, were bunched at the oilcloth supports, and in the middle of each wagon covering, with a right artistic hole jaggedly punched, the "counter" could be both seen and heard from the outside.

"Oh, how glorious!" exclaimed Dorothy Ripple, otherwise known as d.i.c.k.

"I never hoped to find college like this."

"And to get our first feed in the open without all the formalities of good manners," supplied Weasis Blair, who had, according to her own statement put into cold storage her burdensome t.i.tle "Marie Louise."

"Perfectly all right to be freshie to-day," commented Grazia St. Clair (she p.r.o.nounced her name like "Grawcia"). It might have been Latin-Italian, and did not seem to euphonize with the British St.

Clair. However, Grazia was a very attractive girl. She had hair that curled up and down, hiding the fact that it was bobbed, and she looked out of a pair of the most wonderful topaz eyes! Everyone loved Grazia at sight. She, Weasie and d.i.c.k, formed a combine immediately, and a happier little trio of freshmen could not be found on the campus. All over the s.p.a.cious grounds girls flitted to and fro, winding in and out of the autumn sunshine in the very best of their late summer glorious gowns. It was a patch of summer weather always welcome to school girls, who are loath to give up pretty togs without affording school friends an opportunity of getting a glimpse of them. The voiles, from green of the daintiest, to geranium of the gayest, blazed everywhere in a riot of tropical warmth and splendor.

Jane and Judith were very busy. As juniors they carried considerable responsibility of the day's function, and to Jane, Right Guard of soph year, descended the special honor of playing hostess to the sophs and freshmen.

"I like our new plan immensely," Judith declared to Jane as the latter gathered up cups and saucers, and rescued spoons from leafy graves.

"What a wonderful cla.s.s!"

Helen sidled up to the big rustic bench from which Jane was frantically trying to gather up all kinds of paper dishes and incorrigible china.

"Oh, Jane dear," she exclaimed, "isn't it beautiful!"

"Do you like it, Nell?" asked Jane, caressing the little word "Nell"

with a ring like the old-time pretty little song, "Nellie Was a Lady."

"Oh, I adore it!" enthused Helen. "And I like the American Nell. It has a tone like the bell," and she tossed her curly head in rhythmatic sway of a silent, human song.