Molly Brown's Freshman Days Part 14

"If Frances hadn't done that witch's stunt and said all those malicious things at Molly's Kentucky spread, I don't think I should have minded so much. And do you know, Judy, that the report has spread abroad that she and Molly had prepared the whole thing beforehand, speeches and all and were in league together? You see, Molly was the only one who wasn't hit."

"You don't mean it," cried Judy. "Then, more than ever, I want to spare the child the humiliation she might have to suffer if she went with Frances to-night. Go forth to battle, Nance, and may the saints preserve you."

Nance girded her sweater about her like a coat of mail, stiffened her backbone, pressed her lips together and marched out to the fray. She never told even Judy exactly what took place between Frances and her in that small room, with its bewildering array of fine trappings, silver combs and brushes, yellow silk curtains at the window, Turkish rugs, books and pictures. No one had ever seen the room except Molly the night of the spread, when it was too dark to make out what was in it.

There was no loud talking. Whatever was said was of the tense quiet kind, and presently Nance emerged unscathed from the encounter.

"She made me give my word of honor not to tell what was said," she announced to the palpitating Judy, "but she's writing the note to Molly now; so go quickly and inform someone that Molly has no escort for the ball."

Judy departed much mystified and Nance remained discreetly away from her own room until she perceived Frances steal down the hall, push a note under their door and then hurry back, bang her own door and lock it.

Then, after a moment's grace, Nance marched boldly to their chamber.

Molly was reading the note.

"What do you think, Nance?" she exclaimed with a tone of evident relief in her voice, "Frances Andrews can't go to-night."

"Indeed, and what reason does she give?" asked Nance, feeling very much like a conspirator now that she was obliged to face Molly.

"None. She simply says 'I'm sorry I can't go to-night. Hope you'll enjoy it. F. A.' How does she expect me to get there, I wonder, at the eleventh hour?"

Nance examined her finger nails attentively.

"Perhaps she's seen to that," she replied after a pause.

"Nance," said Molly, presently, "I'm so relieved that I think I'll have to 'fess up. It's mean of me, I know, and I feel awfully ungenerous to be so glad. You see, n.o.body can ever tell what strange, freakish thing she's going to do. Of course she was the witch. I knew it from the conscious look that came into her face when I told her about it afterwards."

"The mistake she has made is being defiant instead of repentant," said Nance. "Instead of trying to brazen it out, she ought to 'walk softly,'

as the Bible says, and keep quiet. She is the most embittered soul I ever met in all my life. If hatred counted for much, her hatred for her own cla.s.s would burn it to a cinder."

There was a sound of hurrying footsteps on the stairs and Judy burst into the room. Her face was aflame and she flung herself into a chair panting for breath.

"What's your hurry?" asked Molly, slipping on her jacket. "Excuse me, I must be chasing along to French. Tell her the news, Nance."

No need to tell Judy news, who had news of her own.

"I tell you, Nance," she exclaimed, "there are times when I think the position of a freshman is one of the lowliest things in life. The first soph.o.m.ore I met was Judith Blount. I did feel a little timid, but I told her what had happened. 'You can tell your friend,' she said, 'that we soph.o.m.ores are not so gullible as all that, and if her nerve has failed her at the last moment, it's her fault, not ours.'"

"Why, Judy," exclaimed Nance, "you didn't know you were jumping from the frying pan right into the fire when you told that to Judith Blount, who has never liked Molly from the beginning. It's jealousy, pure and simple, I think; although there almost seems to be something more behind it sometimes. She takes such pains to be disagreeable. Was anyone else there to hear you?"

"Oh, yes. She was surrounded by her satellites, Jennie Wren and a few others."

The two girls sat in gloomy silence for a few minutes. After that rebuff, they hardly cared to circulate the bit of news any further in the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s, which, it must be confessed, had the reputation of being run by a clique of the most arrogant and sn.o.bbish set of girls Wellington College had ever known.

"Let's go and tell our woes to nice old Sally Marks," suggested Judy, and off they marched in search of the good-natured funny Sally, whose room was on the floor below.

"Come in," she called at their tap on the door, and noticing at once their serious faces, she exclaimed:

"I declare, I am beginning to feel like the Oracle at Delphi. What's the trouble, now, my children?"

"You ought never to have gone to Judith Blount," she continued after they had unburdened their secrets. But having gone to her, "it would be well," so spake the Oracle, "to sit back and hold tight. The news is certain to spread, and of course only Judith and her ring would believe that Molly sent you out to find her an escort. There is one thing sure: Molly is obliged to go to the dance, not only because she has so many friends, but because she figures, I am told, so largely in 'Jokes & Croaks,' and it would be sport spoiled if she wasn't there when the things are read out. Now, trot along, children, I'm cramming for an exam., and I'm busier than the busiest person in Wellington to-day."

The afternoon dragged itself slowly along. Nance took her best dress out of its wrappings, heated a little iron and smoothed out its wrinkles.

She lifted Molly's blue crepe from its hanger and laid it on the couch.

"It was made in the simplest possible way out of the least possible goods in the least possible time," she informed Judy, who had wickedly cut a cla.s.s and sat moping in her friend's room. "Isn't it pretty? We made it together, and I'm really quite puffed up about the result. It's Empire, you know," she added proudly.

The dress did indeed show the short Empire waist. The round neck was cut out and finished with a frill of creamy lace which Molly happened to have, and there had not been much of a struggle with the sleeves, which came only to the elbow and were to all intents and purposes shapeless.

But the color was the thing, as Molly had said.

"I'd be willing to drown in a color like that," Judy observed. Judy was quite a _poseuse_ about colors and a.s.sured her friends that she could never wear red because it inflamed her temper and made her cross; that violet quieted her nerves; green stirred her ambitions, and blue aroused her sympathies. While they were looking at the dress, Margaret Wakefield and Jessie Lynch, her roommate and boon companion, after rapping on the door, sailed into the room.

"We came to consult about clothes," they announced. "Is this to be an evening dress affair, or what's proper to wear?"

"The best you have," replied Judy, "at least that's what I was told by the oracular Sally below stairs."

"For the love of heaven, don't tell that to Jessie," cried Margaret. "If you give her so much rope, she'll be wearing purple velvet and cloth of gold."

Jessie laughed good-naturedly. She was already considered the best dressed and prettiest girl in the freshman cla.s.s, and it was a joke at Queen's Cottage that she had been obliged to apply to the matron for more closet room, because the large one she shared with Margaret Wakefield was not nearly adequate for her numerous frocks. It had been a constant wonder to the other girls in the house that these two opposite types could have become such intimate friends; but friends they were, and continued to be throughout their college course, although Jessie never could rake up an interest in the U. S. Const.i.tution or woman's suffrage, either.

The two girls really formed a sort of combination of brains and beauty, and it became generally known that Jessie would hardly have pulled through the four years, except for the indefatigable efforts of her faithful friend, Margaret.

Mabel Hinton, a Queen's Cottage freshman, now popped her head in at the door, which was half open. She was a very odd character, but she was popular with her friends, who called her "The Martian," probably because she had a phenomenal intellect and wore enormous gla.s.ses in tortoise sh.e.l.l frames which made her eyes look like a pair of full moons.

"I thought I heard a racket," she said in her crisp, catchy voice. "I suppose you are all discussing the news."

"News? What news?" they demanded.

She closed the door carefully and came farther into the room.

"Gather around me, girls," she said mysteriously, enjoying their curiosity.

"But what is it, Mabel? Don't keep us in suspense," cried Judy, always impatient.

"Well, there is evidence that someone was going to set fire to the gym. to-night," she began, in a whisper. "This morning a bundle of oil-soaked rags was discovered in a closet, and then they began to search and found several other bundles like the first. There was a lot of excitement, and the Prex came over. They tried to keep it quiet, but the story leaked out, of course, and is still leaking----" she smiled.

The girls exchanged horrified glances. What terrible disaster might not have befallen them if the rags had not been discovered?

"Of course it was the work of an insane person," said Margaret Wakefield.

"Of course, but who? Is she one of the students or some outside person?"

With a common instinct, Judy and Nance looked up at the same moment.

Their glances met. Without making a sound, Judy's lips formed the word "Frances."

"Is the dance to take place, then?" asked Jessie.

"Oh, yes. It's all been hushed up and things will go on just as usual.

I'm going to look on from the balcony. I shan't mingle with the dancers, because they knock off my spectacles and generally upset my equilibrium."