Marjorie Dean College Freshman Part 16

"Oh, my stars, what a dream you are, little Miss Dean!" praised Leila, laughingly adopting a touch of brogue which she used to perfection.

Inwardly she was so delighted she could have squealed for joy. Her appraising eyes instantly picked Marjorie's frock as unique.

Veronica, who was talking animatedly to Vera, her escort, as she drew on her long gloves, looked equally charming in her own way. She was attired in an imported gown of pleated French chiffon in two shades of silvery gray. It was banded about the square neck and very short pleated sleeves with black velvet ribbon on which were embroidered a Persian pattern of silver stars. The wide black velvet ribbon sash was also thickly star-studded, as were her black satin slippers.

Jerry, who had gone on with Helen, was wearing a stunning gown of old gold satin with deeper gold embroideries. Lucy, thanks to Veronica, had had the severity of her white organdie graduation gown transformed by a fine white lace overdress which Ronny had fairly forced upon her, together with a pale green satin sash with fringed ends, a pair of embroidered white silk stockings and a pair of white satin slippers.

Muriel, who had also gone ahead with her ceremonious escort, was the true Picture Girl, as Marjorie loved to call her, in a pale lavender silk net over lavender taffeta. At her belt she wore a huge bunch of lavender orchids, for which gallant Moretense had sent to New York.

The gymnasium was not far from Wayland Hall, therefore the democratic element of soph.o.m.ores who lived there had not favored taking their freshmen to the dance in automobiles. Leila Harper, Hortense Barlow and Vera Mason had their own motor cars at Hamilton, in a near-by garage, but common sense smiled at using them in preference to the short walk under the twinkling autumn stars.

"Don't forget your violets, Marjorie," called Veronica over her shoulder, as she went out the door. "I'll wait for you downstairs.

Pardon me, I forgot I was being escorted," she made laughing apology to Vera. "We'll wait for you, I should have said."

"As if I could forget these darlings!" Marjorie took an immense bunch of single, long-stemmed violets from a vase of water and wiping them gently re-rolled the stems in their sheath of silver and violet paper. "They are my favorite flower," she told Leila. "They go perfectly with this frock." She pinned them securely against her sash with a quaint silver clasp pin. "There, I won't be likely to lose them!"

"Would you mind telling a poor Irish girl where under the stars that gown grew?" Leila had not been able to remove her eyes from it long at a time.

Marjorie obligingly complied, going further to tell of the happy surprise which had attended the receipt of it.

"Your father must love you oceans," Leila said almost sadly. "My father died when I was three. I have a step-father. He is not so much to my liking. My mother and he maintain a residence in the United States, but they are in England most of the time. I live with my father's sister when I am home on vacations. She is keen on clubs and welfare work. She allows me to do as I please. What kind of life is that for a young girl?" Leila shrugged her white shoulders with true Irish melancholy.

Dressed in a beautiful gown of old rose Georgette with a partial over-frock of frost-like white lace, she was a magnificent study. The combination of fine, strong features which went to make up her face, made it striking rather than beautiful.

Suddenly her brooding features broke into smiling light. "Pay no attention to me. Let's be off to the dance. Just a word before we go. I wish you would feel that I am your true friend. If, when we first met, you thought me, well-not quite frank, it was because I wished to be sure that I liked you. That's all, except, remember what I have just said about being your friend."

"I will," Marjorie promised gravely. "I shall hope always to prove myself your true friend." She offered her hand.

Leila took it and shook it vigorously. "Now we have a bargain," she said. "Never forget it."

In the lower hall they found Ronny and Vera Mason waiting, and the four stopped only long enough to cover their fine raiment, temporarily, with evening capes. During the short walk through the soft fall night Leila made them all laugh with her funny sallies. She had apparently lost her recent pensive mood. Nevertheless at intervals that evening the hopeless melancholy of her tone came back to Marjorie. She thought Leila must have been born in Ireland, for she was at times utterly un-American in her manner of speaking.

The scene of festivity upon which they presently came was one of color and light. The great room was already well-filled with merry-makers, each in her prettiest gown. From a corner of the room, screened by palms and huge branches of red and yellow autumn leaves, an orchestra was playing a _valse lente_. That the sophs had outdone anything for several years in the way of artistic decorations was the opinion of the faculty, present almost to a member. Though they graciously lent their presence to an affair, such as the freshmen's frolic, they obligingly left the dance early, rarely remaining more than an hour.

The San Soucians were well represented in the receiving line, the majority having been appointed to it by their ally, Joan Myers. Lined up, they made a gorgeous appearance. The majority of them were attired in frocks of striking colors and displayed considerable jewelry. Looking up and down the long row, it seemed to Marjorie that she glimpsed the white fire of diamonds on every girl that composed it. It struck her as rather ridiculous that, so long as the Sans Soucians snubbed the majority of the students, they should wish to be on a committee to receive the very girls they affected not to know.

"Be easy," remarked Leila, in a tone which only Ronny, Vera and Marjorie heard. "We are to run the one-sided gauntlet, it seems. Let us be about it and have it done. Follow your leader and not too much cordiality.

They have none for us, though they will be sweet on the surface."

These being the first remarks of the kind Marjorie had heard Leila make, she glanced at the latter rather searchingly. Leila was not looking at her. Her eyes were playing up and down the receiving line, a world of veiled contempt in their blue depths.

As the quartette approached the row of brightly-garbed young women, Joan Myers, who stood at its head, bent a steady stare upon Marjorie. Next she turned to the girl on her left and muttered in her ear. The latter chanced to be Natalie Weyman, resplendent in an apricot satin frock, with over panels of seed pearls on satin and a garniture of the same at the very low bodice. The gown was sleeveless, and smacked more of the stage than of a college frolic. A cl.u.s.ter of peculiar orange and white orchids trailed across one shoulder. These Marjorie could honestly admire. Of Natalie's gown she did not approve.

At sight of Marjorie, Natalie's face grew dark. Nor did the further sight of Veronica improve her sulky expression. How she managed to smile and murmur a few words of welcome she hardly knew. She was literally seething with jealous rage at the two freshmen. Her eyes did not deceive her as to the distinction of their frocks. She knew after a first appraising glance that there were no others in the room to compete with them. They were the un.o.btainable so far as money went. They were the kind of frocks that only proper influence might secure. She forgot her earlier grudge against Marjorie's loveliness in jealousy viewing her later offense.

Piloted by Leila, the quartette made short work of being received by as chilly a lot of young patronesses as jealousy could furnish. When they had won clear of the receiving line, Leila indulged in a subdued ripple of laughter.

"Oh, my heart, but were they not icy?" she inquired, her eyes dancing.

"Vera, did you see Nat Weyman's face? She used to be jealous of you. Now she has other trouble to worst."

"Don't mind Leila's outbreak," Vera turned to Marjorie and Ronny who were looking eagerly about them, charmed by the animated scene. "She can't endure Natalie Weyman, and neither can I. This is not the place to say such things, but we are not fond of the Sans and we had rather you knew it. It will help you to understand much that may happen later on."

Vera colored as she said this. She felt that it would in a measure mitigate any displeasure that Marjorie in particular might afterward feel for Leila.

"We do not know much of the Sans Soucians, but we are not in favor of sn.o.bs," Ronny made steady utterance. She had seen the dark glance Natalie Weyman had leveled at Marjorie, and quite understood Leila's comments. She could also understand why Vera had aroused the vain soph.o.m.ore's jealousy. Vera's white chiffon frock over pale green taffeta, made her look like a fairy queen who might have stepped from the heart of a white flower to attend the frolic.

"We know that. Otherwise you might be escorting yourselves here for all Vera and I should care," returned Leila with a genial smile that was irresistible. "Let us bury them deep, as we say in Kilarney, and have a good time. I wish you to meet two or three pets of mine among the seniors. Then off to the dance we shall wend. I tell you now, I am a fine Irish gentleman when it comes to playing the part at a hop."

With Leila doing the honors, the two Lookouts had a lively time for the next half hour. Though the dancing had begun, she insisted upon parading the three girls from one end of the gymnasium to the other. She appeared to have a wide acquaintance among the juniors and the seniors.

Consequently Ronny and Marjorie met girls they had seen on the campus, but whom as upper cla.s.s young women they had hardly hoped to meet.

When they finally joined in the dancing, which both had been longing to do, they were soon besieged with invitations. It was such a complete surprise to both, which they refused mentally to stop and think about it, preferring to drift comfortably along on the tide of youthful enjoyment. It was an hour after their arrival before they had an opportunity to talk with Jerry, Lucy and Muriel. All three had been enjoying themselves hugely. Lucy had had an interesting, though short, talk with Professor Wenderblatt, the director of the biology department, whose daughter, Lillian, was a freshman. She had met them both through Katherine. The latter and herself were now rejoicing in an invitation to dinner at the Wenderblatts on the following Sunday.

Jerry, according to her own enthusiastic version, was simply falling all over herself with happiness. Helen was the "Prince of Hamilton" when it came to playing escort. Muriel was no less pleased. She gigglingly confided to her chums that Moretense was considerably less tense when she danced than she had expected to find her.

The delightful evening had winged its way toward eleven o'clock when, after a spirited fox trot, the bell in the gymnasium clanged out the five strokes which stood for "attention" at Hamilton. Instant with the last stroke, a breathless silence fell. It was broken by a high-pitched call from one side of the gymnasium. From an ante room a figure in a page's costume of hunter's green darted out and ran to the center of the floor. Trumpet to her lips, the soph.o.m.ore page played a lively little rondelay. It was answered from the ante room on the oppo-side and another page, similarly clad, joined the first. Another fanfare of trumpets and three figures in dark brown robes with immense snow-white wigs appeared from the left-hand ante-room.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Comes now a friende to Beautye brighte. An ye are fair, O, maid, the Beautye crowne shall win ye! Mayhap, mayhap! An ye are fair!"

The voice of the central be-wigged figure echoed through the room. The owner was a senior who sang ba.s.s in the Idlehour Glee Club, hence the robust tones.

"What is it to be? I don't understand," was whispered about the room.

CHAPTER XIX.-THE GIFTE OF BEAUTYE.

"Oh, I know what this is going to be," Helen Trent informed Jerry under her breath. "It's an old Celtic beauty contest. Away back in the history of the Celts, they set aside one day in the year for games and contests.

Just at sunset came the beauty contest. The Brown Judges, there are always three, who were in charge of all ethical matters, for the Celts had their own ideas about ethics, came down from their writing in the court tower and made this proclamation. All the pretty girls and women in the village would enter it. The judges would take their places on the fiddler's platform and the beauty line had to pa.s.s them three times in slow succession. As they knew everyone in their village, I suppose it wasn't very hard for them to pick the winner! She was accorded thereupon," Helen quoted from memory, "'the acclamation of her people, and, added to the joy of knowledge of Beauty, a silver purse, containing three heavy gold pieces, together with a solemn adjuration to do well, breed no vanity of the mind and say a prayer of thankfulness at even for the gift of Beauty, by the grace of G.o.d.'"

"How pretty," Jerry said softly. "Well, if this is a beauty contest, I hope the judges won't be partial. I know whom I think ought to win it."

"You mean Marjorie?" Helen asked guardedly. "I think so too. Now listen to this charge to the contestants. I know it pretty well. Leila Harper let me take a book on the Celts. She brought it with her from Ireland.

She was born in Dublin and came to this country when she was twelve. She is at the bottom of this and I know why. The clever maneuverer that she is!" Helen laughed, then her face suddenly sobered. She glanced anxiously at Marjorie, who stood not far away, her brown eyes riveted on the three judges. The conditions of the contest were about to be laid down by one of them.

"One makes this charge to winsome maids, not all may win the crowne! All ye who are to Beautye bent have had the a.s.surance long. No mirrore 'flects a fairness back there be no fairenesse there. The twisted eye, the fanged tooth, the loose-lippede mouth, the mottlede skin, the uncla.s.sike nose, the sharpenede chin are not of Beautye's kin. Beare this in mind and venture not 'fore the Judges' critike heighte an ye are cursede with these. Now not too talle, nor yet too lowe; e're be ye pa.s.singe faire. The heighte of man, five feete and nine, is not our favore gainede. Nor is the midge of four feete teyne, more than the olde, olde childe. Of grace we thinke on heavilye and note the free lighte step, the slendyre carriage of the budding flower, whiche she of grace does have. Of frank sweete looke, yet not so bolde, we rank as beautied worth. No countenance is perfecte yet when guile lurkes backe its eyese. So shalle ye rate yourselvese in mind upon our honeste scale, spokyne in hones klaryte to save the injuryede feeling of the s.e.x, and we who judge ye much of vexede delaye and crude annoye. Beare last of all this sacrede truthe, goode Beautye needs no artifyce. The cosmetykes of cheatynge maides are instante knowne to use to be abhorrede."

With this pointed laying down of entrance conditions to the contest, His Honor, the center judge, and the tallest of the three, fell back a little, to allow his companion on the left to speak. With a dramatic wave of the arms he began:

"Upon yon heighte we now shalle stand to sighte ye as ye pa.s.se." A second sweep of the arm designated a small platform profusely decorated in hunter's green, the freshman cla.s.s color, and old gold, that of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s. It stood near the big j.a.panese lemonade bowl and had excited considerable curiosity during the evening, as no one seemed to know its purpose.

The third judge, who had thus far been silent, now called out in a veritable town-crier voice: "Heede ye! Heede ye! Beautye waites her worthynge. Lyne ye single fylinge. Pa.s.se ye once before us! Pa.s.se ye twice before us! Pa.s.se ye thryce before us! Walke ye to slowe measure."

Having delivered himself of these succinct directions, the speaker joined his companions in bowing low to the enthralled a.s.semblage.

Whereupon, all three turned and strode majestically toward the fateful platform. Luckily the builders of the stand had not forgotten to place two makeshift steps of soap boxes, carpeted in green. The august judges had also been cautioned beforehand to tread upon them lightly or run a chance of disgracing their high and mighty personages by an ignominious tumble.

While they were disposing themselves on the platform with as much dignity as a wary ascent would allow, their hearers were fascinatedly considering the proclamation. Hardly a young girl who does not take a pardonable interest in a beauty contest. While she may be honestly sure that she would never be chosen the winner, she has a secret desire to enter it simply because she is a young girl.

From all parts of the gymnasium a subdued murmur of voices now arose, mingled with much soft laughter. Thus far the proclamation was too new to court action. Besides, it took temerity, after hearing the conditions, to walk boldly forth, an aspirant for beauty honors. Finally a knot of juniors, who had been loitering near the Judges' stand exchanging pleasantries with the brown-robed critics, obeyed a mischievous impulse to start the ball rolling. Forming into line, these six, none of whom had a claim to more than fairly good looks, marched solemnly out onto the floor and approached the stand at an exaggeratedly slow walk. A shout of mirth arose, which they acknowledged with wide smiles. The ice was broken, however, and the line began to grow amazingly. At each end of the room, the two pages had now taken up their station in order to direct the progress of the beauty line.

"Catch me joining that line," declared Jerry. "I know just how beautiful I am without any opinions from those three old wigs."