Jane Allen, Junior Part 31

"Just like a picture," exclaimed Dolly Lloyd. "Be sure you carry them like a bride's-maid, Sally. Maybe a long time before you get another chance."

"But what is this all about?" gasped Sally, a little bit frightened at the importance of the great sheaf of yellow blooms propped up in the corner.

"You are to present the flowers to Deanie," said Nellie. "You see, the girls always give her something at this dance, and they choose the freshies just to act in the capacity of page. You don't have to say a word," as Sally showed reticence. "A senior makes a speech and you just walk up prettily with this corn shock."

"Oh, girls, I couldn't," exclaimed Sally tragically.

"You couldn't! Why not?" came a chorus.

"Because--oh, I can't just explain, but won't you please excuse me?"

"No, indeed we will not," declared Nellie. "Just another touch of that timidity we fought out when you first came. This is an honor, Sally, and we know whom to choose for it. We know how you stand in the half year's record," and she proceeded to straighten out the maline b.u.t.terfly on Sally's shoulders--no one could seem to resist that temptation.

"I do appreciate the honor," faltered Sally, "but there is a reason- -a serious reason why I feel I should decline."

"Wait a minute! I'll persuade her," said Dolly, and in the time specified she was back in the corner again and had Jane with her.

"She simply has got to deliver those flowers," explained Nellie.

"She matches as if she were dressed for the part. See her yellow head, her yellow and white gown, the dear little golden slippers; then the great huge, gigantic bunch of chrysis--we all chipped in for those--"

"Miss Allen, please let me off," begged Sally, turning two blue eyes, overflowing with meaning, full on Jane.

"I cannot go back on a sorority order," said Jane, wondering why she should. "There's your cue, and Sally, here are the flowers. Bun along, little girl. There's a dear."

Sally was "running along" in the freshmen's glide, almost hidden behind the shock of golden b.a.l.l.s, before she could further protest.

"Wellington, dear Wellington!" finished the chorus; and then the senior who was on the little platform by the orchestra, called the dean forward and in "a few well chosen words" told Miss Rutledge how much every girl in college loved her.

Dear, gentle, beloved Miss Rutledge! Her cameo beauty was not lost even in that group of glowing students. She wore her stately heliotrope brocade, and her perfectly white wavy hair just framed a face soft as damask, with enough natural warmth of color to defy any record of years.

Sally glided along with the bouquet, while the dean spoke softly, gently, in that strangely far-reaching voice peculiar to those who train for such concentration. Directly Sally placed the flowers in her extended hands applause broke loose.

What music can compete with the simple inspiration of hand clapping?

And these students knew that score in jazz perfectly.

Finally, Sally turned back again in the little aisle made for her through the a.s.semblage, and before she had proceeded more than a few paces Bobbie rescued her.

"Kitten!" she whispered, putting her strong arms about the now trembling Sally. "How perfectly lovely! Here's Ted. He is too excited to speak. I have just been trying to restore him."

"King Pin of the Freshies!" Ted managed to orate, seizing Sally's hand in congratulation. "That stunt is something we fellows miss. If it were our old 'Shuffles' now, likely we would treat him to a soft little ball on his renowned pate."

"King Pin of the Freshies!" took up Bobbie. "Splendid! I'll tell Nellie that and she can chime it in her new cla.s.s song. Here they are claiming you, Kitten. Come on and see what's doing in the rear.

Boys"--to Teddy--"not allowed."

"Never are when there's anything good in sight," replied Ted pleasantly. "Where's that pretty girl--my dance--oh, here she is,"

and he seized Judith for the Drop Step just being inaugurated.

In another hour--how short a time it seemed--the dance was over.

University boys were piling into their cars, and the girls of Wellington would presently be back again in that cozy, if limited, little world, all their very own.

What a glorious success it had been! Even the night was perfect, and now at the happy shouting of "good-byes" the stars blinked down mischievously, and a busy old moon took time from his science to send out a couple of searchlight flashes to greet youth on its merry way.

Ted "Barrett" was saying good-bye to Jane. He made opportunity for this, although his companions were honking their horn recklessly, bidding him "come now or stay as long as he pleased."

"Miss Allen," said the Yorktown boy, "I can't help telling you personally how fine this has been. To have--the girls here, I know is due to your--special generosity, and some day I hope I'll have a chance to tell you what it has meant to me. Just now," he smiled broadly, "those freshies have me bound in their riddle game and I can't talk intelligently; tongue-tied," he finished.

"I understand," spoke up Jane, smiling herself. "They are a wonderful team--and I am much interested in both."

"So am I," called out the chivalrous Ted, as he answered an ear- splitting honk from his chums and rushed out to the big waiting car.

Sally and Shirley were at the steps to see him off, and now Jane joined them. Ted tossed back a freshman's cap, s.n.a.t.c.hed from the head of a luckless "stude" who must go all the way to Yorktown uncapped. He threw the "inkspot" out high in the air, and as it came down, somehow it managed to come within reach of Jane's outstretched palm.

Promptly she donned it, of course, and the trophy instantly became an object of excited interest among the retiring dancers.

It was only a very small black cloth cap, and a poor freshman was now going home with his inadequate hand on a cold head in lieu of it, but somehow when Jane stuck it on the wall between two Wellington pennants, the juniors' and freshmen's, it seemed a symbol of her mystic relationship with the girl who carried the Allen scholarship.

"I'll leave it here until we can clean up," she said looking affectionately at the small black spot on the wall. "Then, of course, it goes to my room."

"Of course," echoed Judith dolefully. "I suppose the ownership of that puts you in a Yorktown frat."

"Hardly, but it will be a little souvenir of this wonderful night."

Both Sally and Bobbie were beside her now. Their cheeks blazed still with excitement, and eyes continued the dance even now echoing through those beam-bedecked walls.

"Wasn't it wonderful?" exclaimed Sally.

"I never thought I could have such a perfect time," sighed Bobbie.

"That's Wellington," commented Jane loyally. "We do everything just right under that banner," and picking up her little party bag she was ready to leave for sleeping quarters.

"And do you know what Ted called Kitten when she came down from presenting the flowers?" teased Bobbie.

"What?" asked Jane merrily.

"King Pin of the Freshies!" replied Bobbie. "Doesn't that sound like a cla.s.s yell?"

"I hope it will be some day," said Jane. But Sally's blue eyes were proclaiming something--something far removed from the honor and glory promised by her junior sponsor.

And even Bobbie's insistent joking could not dispel that strange foreboding.

"Sally!" charged Jane, noting her sudden preoccupating, "are you seeing things?"

"Why?" A flush suffused the face just showing the tell-tale lines of fatigue.

"I sometimes think you two girls are base deceivers," Jane joked.

"You change your cast of countenance as quickly as--"

"Now Janie, you leave our little star alone," ordered Judith. "Seems to me any girl would be fl.u.s.tered after a first night of this kind."